Re’eh: The True Meaning of Joy in Jewish Holidays
Liluei Nishmas Ita bas Chanoch Aharon Bistritzky
At the end of Parashat Re'eh, the Torah discusses the Shalosh Regalim, the three festivals when all Jews would travel to the Beit HaMikdash. It mentions the concept of Simcha - rejoicing and being joyous - three times. However, it doesn't split those three mentions of Simcha evenly throughout the three holidays.
Pesach doesn't mention anything about joy. By Shavuot, it mentions Simcha once. Specifically, by Sukkot, it mentions a double portion of joy, mentioning the concept of Simcha twice. Hence, we actually refer to Sukkot as "zman simchateinu" - the time of our happiness.
Now, this seems strange. Pesach would make sense for us to be happy - we've achieved freedom; we went from slaves to aristocracy to Hashem's people. That should make us happy. We should have a mention of simcha there. Shavuot also makes sense - we got the ultimate treasure: Hashem's Torah. That makes sense to be a day of happiness. But what are we celebrating on Sukkot? We are celebrating that we were just wandering for 40 years in the midbar (desert), protected by divine shade or by huts. What triggers happiness in such a scenario? That doesn't seem like a setting of joy.
Yet, counterintuitively, this brings to the forefront what exactly happiness is. Accomplishment and success do not bring happiness. In fact, sometimes, they bring about the exact opposite—a sense of entitlement. Someone who feels entitled to goodness can never be happy about that goodness because "of course, I deserve this." It is a feeling that is the exact opposite of happiness.
In fact, there are studies that show that high-level CEOs are often the most prone to depression. High depression or even suicidal ideation in affluent zip codes is often more common than in lower-class areas.
So what is it that brings happiness if not accomplishment, if not accumulation of wealth or experiences? The answer is nothing brings happiness. Happiness is not a reaction to anything that happens to you in life. It's not a natural reaction to anything that happens to you.
Happiness is like someone at their child's wedding. Their inhibitions come down, they let loose, their walls start coming down, they start being more open and natural, and the ego's walls start coming down.
As Chassidus explains, the key to happiness is bitul, which means gratitude. It means that no matter what life throws my way, I let go of what I expect from life and gratefully accept what life expects from me. The moment I put those walls down, I become a keli (vessel) to actually sense joy and feel happiness.
This is very counterintuitive. In America, we say that everyone has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But the moment I pursue happiness and feel that I have a right to be happy, I automatically feel entitled to happiness. But entitlement is the opposite of happiness. So, if I feel entitled to chase happiness, happiness becomes ever-elusive, and once I think I get it, it starts running away from me, causing frustration and endless angst.
I can't feel entitled to be happy. I need to acknowledge that God's obligation is upon me to be happy. He gave me a life, a precious, infinite, one-time opportunity that we call life. He gave me a mission. The moment I can gratefully accept what He gave me - not what I expect from my life, but what He gave me in my life, the life He gave me, not the life I decided I want for myself - the moment I can let the ego's walls down and just gratefully accept that, now I've become capable of becoming happy.
This is why specifically Sukkot, of all the other holidays, exactly demonstrates what happiness is. Because the scenario of Sukkot is unknown, it's wandering; it's not necessarily good. We're in a midbar; it's hot, it's sticky, but I'm here, God's here with me. I see that very visibly. It doesn't always look pretty, but I gratefully engage in this gift and mission called life, and that's accessible. Someone could be equally happy when things are good and when things are bad.
There's a story of Mendel Futerfas, who was in Siberia and was constantly happy. Some of the other prisoners asked him how he could be happy in these terrible situations in the gulag in Siberia. There were inmates around who just fell into depression and eventually died.
He said, "I'll tell you the difference. These people's lives were about their stature in society. Someone was a wealthy doctor, a wealthy professor, a prominent professor. To come to Siberia, they've lost their soul, they've lost their life. So it's only a bit of time until their body catches up and their body dies, too. Their souls were already dead the moment they lost what their life was about.
"What's my life about? My life is not about accumulation. My life is about service. I serve Hashem. Before I was in Siberia, I served God and davened. Now I daven. I can't daven in the middle of working - they're going to shoot me - so I think davening. But what my life essentially is about still exists and still exists vibrantly." And that's the key to being happy, even in Siberia.
Adapted from Life Talks on the Parsha