Some branches of Judaism emphasize joy in daily life and practice, and having so much sadness in our history makes it important to cherish true simchah moments

Rabbi Avi Finegold
FOUNDER, THE JEWISH LEARNING LIBRARY, MONTREAL

Rabbi Philip Scheim
BETH DAVID B’NAI ISRAEL BETH AM CONGREGATION, TORONTO

Rabbi Scheim: As we enter Adar, we are reminded of the talmudic injunction to make this a month of celebration. But easily overlooked is the reality that the discussion in Tractate Ta’anit is primarily focused instead on the intrinsic sadness of the month of Av – “Just as we minimize our joy when Av arrives, so too, when Adar arrives, we increase our joy.” Being happy in Adar because of Purim becomes an afterthought in the greater context of the pains and tribulations of Jewish history. 

My years in the rabbinate have taught me that happiness does not come easily to us. We traditionally wish each other at Rosh Hashanah a “shanah tovah” – a good year, rather than a happy new year – because goodness, unlike happiness, is always attainable. 

But the question remains: why do we Jews have such a hard time with happiness? 

Rabbi Finegold: While I acknowledge it certainly appears the way you describe, I often think much of it depends on perspective. 

I would venture to say that your observation does not appear to be true among younger populations, or among different branches of Judaism. I used to joke that in our previous congregation, which skewed much younger than our current one, the two-day-a-year Jews were ones who attended on Purim and Simchat Torah. There is also the fact that certain branches of Judaism – Chassidism, Neo-Chassidism, Jewish Renewal and others – place great emphasis on joy in their daily lives and practice. Having met many of these people, I can certainly say they have no difficulty being joyous. 

In the two dicta you mentioned from the Talmud, the default position is that of joy, not sadness. The Talmud does not instruct us to increase our melancholy in Av and decrease it in Adar. To me this seems to indicate that the authors of the Talmud, and presumably the greater population, might have been quite a happy bunch.

Rabbi Scheim: It is reassuring that there are communities where simchah overtakes sadness, which, I would agree, is in keeping with our tradition. But our happiness is rarely unbridled. Thus the joyous holiday of Purim is preceded by the Fast of Esther, Yom Ha’atzmaut, by Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s Remembrance Day). Likewise, wedding ceremonies include the breaking of a glass.  

I do not criticize these memorials – they are critical to our identity. But having so much sadness in our history makes it incumbent upon us to cherish the true simchah moments, and to seek out the simchah shel mitzvah, the joy of Jewish involvement. I fear that the joy of mitzvah often eludes us. Those steeped in tradition and observance can be overcome by the minute details of the law and miss its inherent joy. 

On the other extreme, many simchah guests sit in synagogue with pained expression, as if longing to be anywhere else. They have not (yet) had the opportunity to experience the joy that comes from involvement, engagement with tradition and serious identification with the holiness of Jewish time and space. 

Rabbi Finegold: You seem to point out that we are good at tempering our joy with a dose of sombre reflection. What if we try to temper our moments of sadness with touches of hope and joy as well? 

People coming to services exclusively for Yizkor could be reminded that we say Yizkor on joyous holidays, and those days should be celebrations as well. The experience of a family sitting shivah and speaking animatedly about the wonderful memories they have of the deceased can be powerful and is, I think, precisely the reason we are compelled to spend the week after a death surrounded by friends and family. 

Imagine if we as rabbis become known as peddlers of joy rather than those who preside over long boring services. A friend of mine is doing just that in Omaha, Neb. Without removing any of the core features of the Shabbat morning service, he tripled his attendance by changing the format of the service to mimic a talk show, complete with monologue about the parshah and a featured guest for an on-the-couch-interview about a timely topic. 

This is not to say we all need to become comedians. But hopefully the mood of our communities can be shifted with us leading by example.