The French writer Leon Bloy wrote that the only true sadness is not to be a saint.

       We know that Christian Joy is something sublime, one of whose characteristics is that it can only be achieved indirectly. It cannot be attained by those who look for it; it is not even licit to ask for it or to desire it directly. And that is why it is rightly said that Joy belongs not to those who seek it but to those who find it.

       But, having clarified this important point, it must now be recognized that Jesus Christ does advise His disciples to try to obtain it indirectly. The precept, at first glance a simple one, is rather complex and profound: Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full (Jn 16:24). Note, however, that it is not a matter of asking for full or complete joy; it is a matter simply of asking: in order that, through the procedure of asking in order to receive, one may attain that joy.

       And this can open the way to a series of rather interesting questions. Once it is established, according to the Lord's own words, that Joy is the direct consequence of the fact of receiving, what then is the exact object of the request? Or, to put it another way: what is it that the disciple should ask for? Given that Joy, as has been said repeatedly, is the most direct consequence of Love, what does the fact of asking mean, when the person truly in love thinks only of giving or surrendering? We must not forget that there is more joy in giving than in receiving (Acts 20:35), according to a phrase of Christ Himself.

       However, the precept stands, clear and precise: Ask and you shall receive, that your joy may be complete. The answer to the question is also provided, as always, by Holy Scripture: The bride in the Song of Songs also asks for something (Sg 1:4), and something very significant which maybe she sees as essential to attaining the delight of perfect joy:

                               Draw me after you; let us run.

                               Bring us, O King, into your chambers,

                               We will exult and rejoice in you,         

                               We shall praise your loves,

                               More sweet than wine. . .

       The text, as can be seen, is sufficient in itself to provide the key to the apparent paradox.  But the definitive solution is given by our Lord Himself when, talking precisely about prayer, He tells His disciples: Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it shall be opened. What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent? … or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him? (Lk 11: 9-13). So according to this, the object of the request, or what one wants to obtain, is precisely the Holy Spirit. Or, to put it another way, the Love of God. Which is equivalent to saying, simply All; and with the All who is Love, Perfect Joy.

       Exactly what the bride of the Song desires; for the only thing she seeks is intimacy of love with the bridegroom –Bring us, O King, into your chambers—whereby she will attain the perfect Joy that she yearns for and which only Love can give her –we will exult and rejoice in you. Which makes it all so clear: it is a matter of asking for and desiring not so much perfect Joy but Love; for that Joy comes of its own accord, as the most immediate fruit of Love (Mt 6:33; Gal 5:22)

       It is interesting to note that, seen from this angle, which moreover is the only proper approach, all other things distinct from Love take on a secondary importance compared to it. Of course the disciple can and should ask for good things (Lk 11:13); although, as can easily be seen from the very structure of the Gospel narrative, always as something implicit; he who possesses Love, because he is with the Bridegroom, possesses in Him all other things. The dialectic of God or things, proposed as a choice between one or the other, is just another of those lies the Devil uses to deceive the unwary. The true approach is that of God and things, or Nothingness: Through Nothing to All, as St. John of the Cross said (Mt 10:39).

       Yet we need to understand this well: in no sense does it mean that things have no importance; no one knows their value better than a disciple in love, even if only because they can be offered to the Bridegroom, to prove and affirm his love. And everything that takes the form of a love-gift is important to the degree that it serves, not just as a proof or manifestation of that love, but also as the only way to make that love real, in the sense that where there is no surrender there is no love.

       That is why the bride in the Song says so enthusiastically (Sg 7: 12-14):

                   Come, my beloved, let us go to the fields.

                   We will spend the night in the villages,

                   And in the early morning we will go to the vineyards.

                   We will see if the vines are budding,

                   If their blossoms are opening,

                   If the pomegranate trees are in flower.

                   There I shall give you the gift of my love.

                   The mandrakes yield their fragrance,

                   And over our doors

                   Are the most exquisite fruits;

                   The new as well as the old.

                   I have stored them all for you, my love.