— Talmud, Tractate Ta’anit 29a
Dear Family of Friends,
Jewish commandments are generally about actions, not feelings. For instance: we consider giving to the poor to be an action of tzedakah – from the Hebrew word “tzedek,” meaning justice, rather than an act of charity, from the Latin word caritas, meaning love. For a Christian, giving is ideally an expression of an internal emotional state. For a Jew, giving stems from an intention to do the right thing. We can have a nice conversation about how it makes us feel, but the essential part is the mitzvah – the commandment, the action – not the feeling.
And so it seems somewhat out of place when we are commanded to “love God with all our heart,” or to be happy during the month of Adar, in which Purim is celebrated. How can we be commanded to feel a certain way? We don’t tend to experience joy and sadness as actions — as things we do, events within our control. On the contrary, we experience them as happening to us — as responses to our circumstances. If being happy were as simple as giving tzedakah, we wouldn’t need SSRIs and light boxes for Seasonal Affective Disorder – we’d just be happy when anyone reminded us to “cheer up!”
Some Jewish authorities explain that this is a misunderstanding of the commandment. No one is telling you how to feel, they argue. In the weeks leading up to Tisha b’Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, many Jews abstain from joyous events such as weddings and live music. So too as Purim approaches, one should intentionally seek out joyous events and activities.
Others insist that the emotion commandment is real and followable. The 19th-century Hasidic Rebbe Nachman of Breslov took this further, saying that “it is a great mitzvah to always be in a state of happiness.” Nachman himself was prone to dark moods, and it’s clear he did not mean people should simply act happy regardless of how they felt. What he advocated was a profound spiritual practice, which he explained by way of a metaphor:
Sometimes a group of people happily dancing together take hold of someone who is standing miserable and depressed on the outside. They pull him into the dance circle despite himself, forcing him to rejoice with them.
Similarly, when a person is happy, their pain and sadness may move to the sidelines. But a higher level is to pursue the sadness itself and “pull it into the dance circle,” turning it into joy. (Likutey Moharan II, 23)
Certainly, there are real reasons for us to be unhappy, both in our personal lives and over the state of the world. Rebbe Nachman is suggesting that the best way to approach these challenges might be through an intentional practice of joy. This is why I find it worthwhile to step out of my comfort zone on Purim—dressing up in silly costumes, singing goofy songs, and taking a break from taking the world and myself so very, very seriously.
~Reb Josh
