This year, I'd like to focus on the theme of joy. Purim falls in the month of Adar, a month in which we are supposed to make an extra effort to feel joy. The Talmud says,
משנכנס אדר מרבין בשמחה
As Adar enters, joy increases (Taanit 29a)
(As a side note, this verse has been put to music in the form of an incredibly jaunty tune that was stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this blog post. The. Entire. Time. Listen here!)
Although the Talmud does not prescribe exactly how one is supposed to increase one's joy during Adar, it's generally accepted that one is supposed to find a way to feel extra happy during this month.
Which brings me to The Challenge: Joy.
If you asked me for a list of emotions I associate with myself, joy would probably not make the cut. My eating disorder was deeply entangled with clinical depression, and even from my position in recovery, I still go through periods when my mood dips low. It's fair to say that even when I'm feeling generally positive about life, I just don't tend toward the extreme end of the happiness continuum. I often feel content, and I am easily delighted, but...joy? No. Mandated joy is not going to be something I can connect to, and indeed, I think this is one of the main reasons why I am not a huge fan of Purim: all the gaiety and revelry is just a little bit much. And, as someone who does not readily experience joy, there are few things I find more alienating than watching everyone else experience joy, leaving me to wonder, "What's wrong with me, that I don't feel like everyone else?"
So, I asked a friend and teacher of mine about the joy theme, and she said that if I was interested in different Jewish views of joy, I should look to Kohelet (Ecclesiastes). At first, I thought she was joking, because Kohelet is not what I would call a joyful book (perhaps this is why I actually really like Kohelet). But I took her suggestion and reread Kohelet, and I noticed that interspersed among the cynicism there actually was a fair amount about joy. It wasn't what I would call, "Purim Joy," but it was a joy that felt much more palatable to me:
"I have observed the task which G-d has given the sons of man to be concerned with: He made everything beautiful in its time; He has also put an enigma into their minds so that man cannot comprehend what G-d has done from beginning to end.
Thus I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and do good in his life. Indeed every man who eats and drinks and finds satisfaction in all his labor--this is a gift of G-d." (Kohelet 3:10-13)
I love this.
This, in fact, is how I experience joy: marveling at the beauty and order of the natural world; feeling fulfilled after doing a good deed; being satisfied when I have worked hard at something and it all comes together. What I learn from Kohelet is that "joy" doesn't have to be full of loud exclamations of glee; instead, it can be a quiet but deep sense of appreciation for everything good that is in one's life...and a recognition that all of it comes from Hashem. It's a more subtle version of joy, but it's one that resonates with me...and I like the idea of Adar being a month when I make an extra effort to feel it.
However, I am still acutely aware that even that more nuanced version of joy sometimes feels out of reach, and the pressure of being "ordered" to feel it can be a bit overwhelming. If that's true for you, then start small. Find one thing in your day, or in the world around you, that you can appreciate and that makes you feel grounded, grateful, or satisfied. If you're someone in the position of caring for a person who feels far from joy, know that all your attempts to connect and bring light into that person's world are not going unnoticed. When I was battling depression, my family and friends never stopped asking me to do fun things with them--even when I repeatedly turned them down. They knew that at some point, I would be ready, and they wanted me to know I was always invited. That small act of faith and love on their part made a huge difference in my feelings of connectedness and security...and I bet it's the same for your loved one. This Adar, take your cues from the great authority on joy--Eeyore--and his buddies:
So, I asked a friend and teacher of mine about the joy theme, and she said that if I was interested in different Jewish views of joy, I should look to Kohelet (Ecclesiastes). At first, I thought she was joking, because Kohelet is not what I would call a joyful book (perhaps this is why I actually really like Kohelet). But I took her suggestion and reread Kohelet, and I noticed that interspersed among the cynicism there actually was a fair amount about joy. It wasn't what I would call, "Purim Joy," but it was a joy that felt much more palatable to me:
"I have observed the task which G-d has given the sons of man to be concerned with: He made everything beautiful in its time; He has also put an enigma into their minds so that man cannot comprehend what G-d has done from beginning to end.
Thus I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and do good in his life. Indeed every man who eats and drinks and finds satisfaction in all his labor--this is a gift of G-d." (Kohelet 3:10-13)
I love this.
This, in fact, is how I experience joy: marveling at the beauty and order of the natural world; feeling fulfilled after doing a good deed; being satisfied when I have worked hard at something and it all comes together. What I learn from Kohelet is that "joy" doesn't have to be full of loud exclamations of glee; instead, it can be a quiet but deep sense of appreciation for everything good that is in one's life...and a recognition that all of it comes from Hashem. It's a more subtle version of joy, but it's one that resonates with me...and I like the idea of Adar being a month when I make an extra effort to feel it.
However, I am still acutely aware that even that more nuanced version of joy sometimes feels out of reach, and the pressure of being "ordered" to feel it can be a bit overwhelming. If that's true for you, then start small. Find one thing in your day, or in the world around you, that you can appreciate and that makes you feel grounded, grateful, or satisfied. If you're someone in the position of caring for a person who feels far from joy, know that all your attempts to connect and bring light into that person's world are not going unnoticed. When I was battling depression, my family and friends never stopped asking me to do fun things with them--even when I repeatedly turned them down. They knew that at some point, I would be ready, and they wanted me to know I was always invited. That small act of faith and love on their part made a huge difference in my feelings of connectedness and security...and I bet it's the same for your loved one. This Adar, take your cues from the great authority on joy--Eeyore--and his buddies:
Image found on tom2tall.com
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