There are certainly enough reasons to consume our lives with worry. Parents don't meet our needs fully; children don't quite live up to our expectations. Spouses are all too human.
Beyond these disappointments loom life's larger issues: aging, fears of separation and mortality, the devastation of our environment, the threat of nuclear war. Our inner cities are unsafe; our economy threatens to crumble from within. And on, and on. How, in the midst of all these struggles and disappointments, are we to live? Isn't the rational position one of unrelenting gloom?
Many scholars and philosophers, struck by the apparent pointlessness of life, counsel an emotional withdrawal from the passions of life for precisely that reason. Nothing will change; nothing will improve. We live and we die, without hope of any real breakthrough in human understanding or harmony. Maybe, then, despair is the most rational attitude to cultivate? Perhaps it is. But people are never strictly rational, and life is far too variegated to fit any single approach.
For the religious at heart, life is a constant marvel. Without having asked to live, without doing anything to deserve the gift of life, companionship, joy, we are regularly given these gifts in an abundance that is staggering. Religion helps restore our thanks for everything we receive so effortlessly. Serving God implies an attitude of gratitude, a response of joy to the many wonders of living:
For the miracle that parents and children can spend their lifetimes getting to know each other as people, growing to accept, and appreciate, and love each other as independent human beings, not merely as objects to satisfy their own needs;
For the miracle of being able to build and celebrate community—the joy of sharing in the struggles and rewards of other people's lives;
For the miracle of being able to make this world a little better, a little more caring, a little more humane than it was when we entered it;
For the miracle of being able to cultivate holiness in our daily lives, the miracle of simhah shel mitzvah, the joy of being a Jew and of observing God’s commandments;
For the miracle--perhaps the greatest one of all--of simply being: having an opportunity to think, feel, experience and wonder. Most of the time we take life for granted; we assume we deserve it, that we have it coming to us. At the death of a loved one, that illusion is shattered. At rare moments in our lives, at birth, graduation, bar/bat mitzvah, marriage we see the marvel of life, and for brief spells are able to appreciate both the Giver and the gift.
Parashat Re'eh conveys the centrality of rejoicing when it instructs us to "rejoice before the Lord your God." Judaism has consistently recognized an attitude of joy to be a pious response to God's abundant love. As the prophet Joel exclaimed, "Rejoice and be glad, for the Lord has done great things."
To look at the world and see those great deeds requires eyes trained to appreciate. Rather than taking the obvious beauty of a sunny day for granted, rather than ignoring the sharp tingle of pain, or the salty air of a sea breeze, our tradition bids us to cultivate awareness, and beyond awareness, a thrill of being alive. Our tradition recognizes that smelling the roses can be a religious act. Far from encouraging a withdrawal from the pleasure of the world, Judaism insists, "one who has seen something pleasant and has not enjoyed it will be held responsible." To reject a legitimate pleasure is to diminish the extent to which we truly live, to reject God's most fundamental gift.
Enjoying life is a way to say "thank you."
And in the midst of enjoying the pleasures of living, Judaism bids us to remember those who cannot rejoice without our help.
In the words of the Rambam (12th Century Spain and Egypt), "the Torah sensitizes us to assure the joy of the powerless, the poor, and the stranger." True joy reaches beyond the narrow boundaries of the self and embraces our fellows as well.
Joy cultivates fellowship: with our families, our community, our people, and with God.
It is a great mitzvah to be happy.
Shabbat Shalom