Life is multi-faceted. As much as it saddens us, it also fills us with delight. Because we don’t want our joy to be confined to ourselves, we plan gatherings of happiness, even when it costs us much. We call our loved ones, inviting them: “Come, let us celebrate together.” However, some of those calls to our closest friends bring us the unexpected. The loved one we called, asking them to share in our happiness, abruptly responds: “We need to talk first.” The purpose of this essay is to examine the emotions and implications that follow this sudden condition.

The Swift Shift from Joy to Sorrow

What kind of emotion and question does a friend who says, “Before I share your joy, we must talk first,” instill in us? Without a doubt, your feeling rapidly shifts from the peak of happiness to the deepest sorrow in a matter of seconds. Your relaxed body tightens, and questions begin to cascade. This sudden change in your body and emotion in response to the strange condition placed on your joyful invitation is, indeed, not surprising.

It is clear that if someone sets a precondition to sharing your joy, something unpleasant is at hand. You understand that there is a strong, bitter issue from the other side. Even if we control our anger with great maturity and hang up the phone, the matter continues within us long after the call ends. Once we put down the phone, the issue remains a nagging and distressing burden; countless questions stream forth uncontrollably.

The Anguish of Internal Questioning

If there is an unresolved issue between us, is now the time to raise it? Are past good memories not enough, simply on their own, to share in my happiness? Why is this meeting desired? Is it to discuss, or to accuse? Have I been unknowingly labeled as the offender and the victimizer? If so, why was it held back until now? If the issue weighed so heavily, why wasn’t it initiated sooner? If I hadn’t called, would it have been raised? Was my perspective and pain given no consideration at all? Are we pre-judged—I as the perpetrator and they as the victim? Is the meeting intended to condemn me and justify themselves? Was my act of patiently overlooking the matter counted as a fault against me?

As you dwell on these and similar questions, your heart grows rough, you feel unwanted, and the feeling that you were not valued equally in the relationship begins to creep in. Let us step out of this brooding for a moment and focus on the main point. Does sharing in another person’s happiness truly require a precondition? Can we not share the joy of someone who harbors ill will toward us, let alone someone with whom we once shared good memories? No matter how severely we may have been wronged, should we ever fail to view the goodness in the other person with sincerity?

The Wisdom of Maturity: Unconditional Empathy

No matter how wronged we feel, our heart should not anticipate our former friend’s downfall; nor should their misfortune ever be the source of our happiness. The wise man, recognizing this truth, advises us (Proverbs 24:17): “Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and do not let your heart be glad when he stumbles.” This counsel reminds us that harboring ill will, even if the other person did us wrong, is not the measure of human maturity. If those who lived under the old “eye for an eye” law were expected to be so wise, how much more should we, who are called to live under the law of love—“feed your enemy” and “love your enemy”—excel in goodness? Even amid the sorrow of our pain, the joy of the person who dislikes us can, and should, become our joy.

Expressing unwillingness to share our happiness during a joyful invitation deeply wounds the host’s psyche. It creates the unpleasant sense of, “So, they were waiting for something bad to happen to me.” Even if our friend had patiently waited for a convenient time, being told on our day of celebration that, “You wronged me, so before we share your joy, pay the debt of grievance I’ve been recording without your knowledge,” is deeply hurtful. It angers us that our friend chooses to raise our guilt on our day of joy, seeking to make us the center of accusation.

The Pitfall of Ego-Centrism

Upon sober reflection, we realize that friends who demand we settle a “debt of grievance” before sharing our joy demonstrate an obsession that everything must revolve around them. If they didn’t hold this belief, they wouldn’t find it difficult to share our joy. It is possible to genuinely enjoy someone else’s happiness, even if you feel wronged; all that is required is a little sincerity. This call to “Share my joy” can also become a spiritual strength, enabling us to attribute the wisdom of maturity to God, believing that He prepares a table and satisfies all from His goodness. If we lack this capacity in our dealings with anyone who brings good news, it means our heart harbors a bitterness that does us no good, and it needs healing.

We may feel wronged for many reasons. Sometimes our victimization may be valid in our own eyes, in the eyes of others, or even in the sight of God. But feeling wronged does not mean we sit down with the other person solely to accuse them. The premise or conclusion of our conversation should never be to disparage the other party. Our meeting and conversation must begin from the high place we hold for our relationship. Even if our respect for the other person has been questioned by the events, we should not begin by denying the respect or the place they previously held in our hearts. Therefore, when contemplating the meeting, we must come with a broad heart (open-mindedness), prepared to listen, and to express our own perspective and emotions—the call to talk should emphasize the tune of “Let me listen” more than “Let me speak.”

Forgiveness and the Dangers of Self-Righteousness

What if, before the discussion, we determine our own righteousness, prepare only to receive an apology, and condemn the other person? The outcome will inevitably be destructive. Files that we had forgotten, and that others had closed with forgiveness, will be reopened. To prevent this, let us not forget that none of us is entirely righteous in every matter. Since we are human, let us remember that focusing on the wrongs we committed rather than the wrongs committed against us is what builds character. The childish game of always claiming, “I am righteous in everything,” is useless, so let us abandon it. Therefore, let us yearn to meet for discussion, not for accusation, under any circumstance. Otherwise, we risk becoming like the foolish kisser—we may create further resentment instead of repairing what is broken.

When we find ourselves having wronged one another, let the relationship be the center, not the ego. The more the relationship transcends the desire we call “I,” the easier it becomes to give and receive forgiveness. But what if our hearts do not value the relationship? If we desire the relationship only for show and pretense, then all our interactions become mere acting; we may hurt each other, but we will not mature together. Acting, however, is never suitable or pleasant among close people. Is not friendship and intimacy about seeking authenticity in this deceptive world? If our close bonds do not create a sense of belonging—that we are there for each other—what good are they to us? If that sense of belonging is absent, our relationship becomes self-serving and superficial; such a relationship is common everywhere and is not what we long for. These types of relationships, truthfully, are exhausting.

When our relationship occupies a high place in our hearts, transcending our personal desires, conflict does not frighten us. We desire to talk because we believe that there is mutual healing in listening to and understanding the other person. Therefore, our listening predominates over our speaking. This belief allows us to be compassionate even as we acknowledge that our feelings are hurt. We gain the capacity to grant forgiveness even when unsought.

We do not yearn for discussion simply to explode bottled-up emotions, allowing things to become chaotic. The driving desire must be to renew the relationship, not to disparage or defeat the other person. If the theme of our relationship with another becomes accusation, our positivity gradually diminishes, and the emotional, physical, and mental strength required for the relationship is drained. Our trust in each other also decreases. When trust declines, we begin to hide our true selves. If we recognize this, it may be best to re-examine our relationships and set appropriate boundaries, realizing that perhaps the value we place on the relationship is not shared equally, thereby minimizing further mutual harm.

[1] Given that the article was originally written in Amharic and then translated into English using AI, it’s important to be mindful of potential nuances that might have been lost in translation.