When Beethoven composed his Ninth Symphony in 1824, he had been completely deaf for nearly a decade. This monumental work, culminating in the famous “Ode to Joy” chorus, was created by a man who could never hear it performed. At the symphony’s premiere in Vienna, Beethoven stood on stage to conduct, but the orchestra had been instructed to follow the lead conductor instead. When the piece concluded, Beethoven continued conducting, unaware that the music had stopped. One of the soloists had to turn him around to face the audience so he could see the thunderous applause he couldn’t hear.
This moment captures the profound paradox at the heart of Beethoven’s creative life. His deafness—the most devastating affliction imaginable for a composer—became the very condition under which he created his most transcendent work. The “Ode to Joy,” that universal expression of human exultation, emerged not from a place of perfect happiness but from profound struggle.
Today, we stand at a similar threshold of contradiction. On one hand, we celebrate Poon Paregentan—a joyous carnival honoring God’s magnificent creation and boundless love. On the other, we prepare for the Great Lent, closing our altar curtains and turning toward Matthew’s Gospel, which speaks not of feasting but of almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. Why would our church calendar place these seemingly contradictory observances side by side?
The answer lies in the fundamental nature of authentic human experience. No perfect career arrives fully formed. No marriage exists without challenges. No friendship flourishes without occasional misunderstanding. The things that truly matter in life don’t descend from heaven in neatly wrapped packages. Instead, they must be carved and crafted through daily effort—shaped through perseverance, built through trial and error, and refined through disappointment.
Our moments of joy often stand directly alongside our deepest sorrows. Our most profound blessings frequently emerge from difficult circumstances. When we open our hearts to love, we simultaneously make ourselves vulnerable to loss. When we commit ourselves to meaningful work, we risk failure alongside success.
This mixed reality isn’t a flaw in creation’s design but its very essence. The Armenian church acknowledges this truth by placing celebration and penitence together. The feast reminds us of God’s goodness; the fast invites us to recognize our dependence on that goodness. Poon Paregentan celebrates abundance; Lent cultivates gratitude for what we too often take for granted.
If we wait for perfect happiness, unalloyed joy, or complete peace to arrive in their purest forms, we will wait forever. God meets us not beyond life’s complexities but within them—teaching us to discover light in darkness, hope in despair, and resurrection in the midst of death.
As we move from celebration to contemplation this week, may we embrace both as essential aspects of our spiritual journey, finding in their paradoxical pairing a reflection of life itself—beautiful not despite its contradictions, but because of them.