We are about to read about the mitzvah of observing Yom Kippur. How does the Torah want us to feel on Yom Kippur.?
And yet, there is an element of joy in Yom Kippur. Why do you think it is important for us to have a joyous experience even leading into Yom Kippur?
Here are some Jewish texts, ancient and modern, about living with joy in an imperfect world. Read them all and chose the one that is most meaningful to you.
1
(7) Go, eat your bread in gladness, and drink your wine in joy; for your action was long ago approved by God.(8) Let your clothes always be freshly washed, and your head never lack ointment. (9) Enjoy happiness with a woman you love all the fleeting days of life that have been granted to you under the sun—all your fleeting days. For that alone is what you can get out of life and out of the means you acquire under the sun. (10) Whatever it is in your power to do, do with all your might. For there is no action, no reasoning, no learning, no wisdom in Sheol, where you are going.
2
In January 1990, the rabbi came to shul as usual to greet the older men who were his morning minyan regulars. One challenged the rabbi playfully: "Aren't you going to wish me happy birthday?".
"Sure, how old are you?" replied the rabbi.
"Oh, I'm forty five today."
"Who are you kidding? You must be at least seventy-five."
"No, today is the day I celebrate my birthday. Forty-five years ago I was reborn when the Allies liberated me from Auschwitz. The gift of life and the gift of freedom are for me inseparable."
3
Happiness is an attitude to life as a whole, while joy lives in the moment. As J. D. Salinger once said: “Happiness is a solid, joy is a liquid.” Happiness is something you pursue. But joy is not. It discovers you. It has to do with a sense of connection to other people or to God. It comes from a different realm than happiness. It is a social emotion. It is the exhilaration we feel when we merge with others. It is the redemption of solitude...
Kohelet eventually finds it not in happiness but in joy – because joy lives not in thoughts of tomorrow, but in the grateful acceptance and celebration of today. We are here; we are alive; we are among others who share our sense of jubilation... And yes, we do not know what tomorrow may bring; and yes, we are surrounded by enemies; and yes, it was never the safe or easy option to be a Jew. But when we focus on the moment, allowing ourselves to dance, sing and give thanks, when we do things for their own sake not for any other reward, when we let go of our separateness and become a voice in the holy city’s choir, then there is joy.
Kierkegaard once wrote: “It takes moral courage to grieve; it takes religious courage to rejoice.” It is one of the most poignant facts about Judaism and the Jewish people that our history has been shot through with tragedy, yet Jews never lost the capacity to rejoice, to celebrate in the heart of darkness, to sing the Lord’s song even in a strange land. There are eastern faiths that promise peace of mind if we can train ourselves into habits of acceptance. Epicurus taught his disciples to avoid risks like marriage or a career in public life. Neither of these approaches is to be negated, yet Judaism is not a religion of acceptance, nor have Jews tended to seek the risk-free life. We can survive the failures and defeats if we never lose the capacity for joy.
Toward the end of his life, having been deaf for twenty years, Beethoven composed one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, his Ninth Symphony. Intuitively he sensed that this work needed the sound of human voices. It became the West’s first choral symphony. The words he set to music were Schiller’s Ode to Joy. I think of Judaism as an ode to joy. Like Beethoven, Jews have known suffering, isolation, hardship and rejection, yet they never lacked the religious courage to rejoice. A people that can know insecurity and still feel joy is one that can never be defeated, for its spirit can never be broken nor its hope destroyed.
4
אני מאמין (שחקי שחקי) / שאול טשרניחובסקי
שַׂחֲקִי, שַׂחֲקִי עַל הַחֲלוֹמוֹת,
זוּ אֲנִי הַחוֹלֵם שָׂח.
שַׂחֲקִי כִּי בָאָדָם אַאֲמִין,
כִּי עוֹדֶנִּי מַאֲמִין בָּךְ.
כִּי עוֹד נַפְשִׁי דְרוֹר שׁוֹאֶפֶת,
לֹא מְכַרְתִּיהָ לְעֵגֶל-פָּז,
כִּי עוֹד אַאֲמִין גַּם בָּאָדָם,
גַּם בְּרוּחוֹ, רוּחַ עָז.
רוּחוֹ יַשְׁלִיךְ כַּבְלֵי-הֶבֶל,
יְרוֹמְמֶנּוּ בָּמֳתֵי-עָל;
לֹא בָרָעָב יָמוּת עֹבֵד,
דְּרוֹר – לַנֶּפֶשׁ, פַּת – לַדָּל.
שַׂחֲקִי כִּי גַם בְּרֵעוּת אַאֲמִין,
אַאֲמִין, כִּי עוֹד אֶמְצָא לֵב,
לֵב תִּקְוֹתַי גַּם תִּקְוֹתָיו,
יָחוּשׁ אֹשֶׁר, יָבִין כְּאֵב.
אַאֲמִינָה גַּם בֶּעָתִיד,
אַף אִם יִרְחַק זֶה הַיוֹם,
אַךְ בֹּא יָבֹא – יִשְׂאוּ שָׁלוֹם
אָז וּבְרָכָה לְאֹם מִלְאֹם.
יָשׁוּב יִפְרַח אָז גַּם עַמִּי,
וּבָאָרֶץ יָקוּם דּוֹר,
בַּרְזֶל-כְּבָלָיו יוּסַר מֶנּוּ,
עַיִן-בְּעַיִן יִרְאֶה אוֹר.
יִחְיֶה, יֶאֱהַב, יִפְעַל, יָעַשׂ,
דּוֹר בָּאָרֶץ אָמְנָם חָי,
לֹא בֶעָתִיד – בַּשָּׁמַיִם,
חַיֵּי-רוּחַ לוֹ אֵין דָּי.
אָז שִׁיר חָדָשׁ יָשִׁיר מְשׁוֹרֵר,
לְיֹפִי וְנִשְׂגָּב לִבּוֹ עֵר;
לוֹ, לַצָּעִיר, מֵעַל קִבְרִי
פְּרָחִים יִלְקְטוּ לַזֵּר.
Credo by Saul Tchernikofsky
Laugh, at all my dreams, my dearest;
Laugh and I repeat anew
That I still believe in man--
As I believe in you.
For my soul is not yet sold
To the golden calf of scorn
And I still believe in man
And the spirit to him born.
By the passion of his spirit
Shall ancient bonds be shed.
Let the soul be given freedom
Let the body have its bread!
Laugh, for I believe in friendship.
And in one I still believe,
One whose heart shall beat with my heart
And with me rejoice and grieve.
Let the time be dark with hatred
I believe in years beyond,
Love at last shall bind the peoples
In an everlasting bond.
In that day shall by own people
Rooted in its soul arise.
Shake the yoke from off its shoulders
And the darkness from its eyes.
Life and love and strength and action
In their heart and blood shall beat,
And their hopes shall be both heaven and the earth beneath their feet.
Then a new song shall be lifted
To the young, the free, the brave,
And the wreath to crown the singer
Shall be gathered from my grave.