In 1772, a short pamphlet, Zmir Aritzim V’charvot Tzurim was published near Brody, Ukraine. In it were a series of condemnations and edicts against the new Chasidic movement, including an excommunication signed by the Rabbis of Vilna, among them the famed Gaon, Rav Eliyahu. The letters from various communities depicted the Chasidim as people uninterested in Torah study, who sit for hours together singing, smoking, and joking as they get ready for prayer. One letter writes that the Chasidim would say “God forbid, one must not be sad at all, or be pained (in regret) over any sin.” The same author explains “for them, every day is like a holiday…”
Despite the negative tone, these depictions underline how central joy is in Chasidic thought. And, as the letters also make clear, this attitude was dramatically different than the solemn, austere lifestyle of their opponents.
Judaism sees joy as critical to spirituality. One is meant to serve God “with joy and gladness.” Prayer should begin with a feeling of joy; and joy is a prerequisite to prophetic inspiration.
In the late 18th century, Chasidim brought joy back to the center. There are multiple reasons for this new found emphasis. It was in part a reaction to the overly intellectual, ascetic practices of the Rabbinic elite, which alienated many ordinary Jews. It was also a response to dire conditions of Eastern European Jews, who were desperate and downtrodden. But the pursuit of joy was first and foremost a spiritual quest.
A popular contemporary song goes “mitzvah gedolah lihiyot b’simcha tamid” “It is a great mitzvah to always be joyful.” This is a short quote from a leading Chasidic thinker, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov. It is a nice sentiment, but one doesn’t understand its true significance without reading the entire passage:
It is a great mitzvah to always be joyful and to strive with all one’s strength to distance sadness and melancholy. The general principle is that one must exert great effort to always be happy. For human nature tends to draw a person toward melancholy and sadness due to life’s hardships and circumstances, and every person’s life is full of trials and tribulations. Therefore, one must compel themselves with great force to always be joyful.
Joy isn’t automatic or natural; melancholy is. But without joy, one cannot connect to the divine. Therefore, the foundation of all spirituality is the struggle against sadness.
So great is the importance of joy that even empty frivolity is allowed. In another passage Rabbi Nachman explains:
And the main thing is to always be joyful and to bring oneself to joy in any way possible, even through silly things—making oneself like a fool, engaging in silly matters and laughter, or jumping and dancing to attain joy, which is something very great.
Jokes, laughter, and silly dances can help one achieve spiritual greatness. Many Chasidic texts refer to a passage in the Talmud, where Elijah points out two brothers to Rabbi Beroka as uniquely worthy for the world to come. When Rabbi Beroka questioned them to discover what special merit the brothers had, they explained: “We are jesters, and we cheer up the depressed.” Rabbi Nachman of Breslov explains this text succinctly: They “were worthy of unusual merit simply because they made others happy.”
Sometimes silliness is true holiness.
Joy is a very holy pursuit. And no day exemplifies this more than Purim.
Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik points out a dramatic contrast between the obligation to rejoice on Purim and that of other holidays. Maimonides, when writing about the obligation to rejoice on holidays says that “When a person eats, drinks, and rejoices on a festival, he should not be drawn to wine, laughter, and frivolity, thinking that whoever increases these increases in the mitzvah of joy. For drunkenness, excessive laughter, and frivolity are not joy, but rather debauchery and foolishness. However, regarding Purim, Maimonides writes that “One should drink wine until he becomes intoxicated and falls asleep in his drunkenness.”
The difference is striking. On other holidays, joy is meant to be thoughtful and controlled, integrated with prayer and Torah study. On Purim one is meant to simply rejoice until exhaustion, in a manner that would be frowned on otherwise.
Rabbi Soloveitchik explains that other holidays are meant to be divided “half for God, and half for man,” divided between the spiritual and the physical. But Purim is meant to be completely “for man,” without any restraints. And so the rejoicing knows no bounds.
While this explains the difference in practice, one must still ask: Why is Purim different?
Purim is an exile story. God is in hiding. Jews are hated. They are almost destroyed, and just lucky enough to be saved by Esther. After they survive, they are still vulnerable; as the Talmud points out, they are still Ahasuerus’ slaves, and still in exile. Nothing has really changed. New Hamans can, and will, plot against the Jews.
There is much to worry about at the end of the Megillah, which tells of a flawed redemption. But that’s precisely why we need to rejoice more on Purim than any other holiday. As Rav Nachman noted, to find joy amidst tragedy isn’t natural; it requires our full focus.
The joy of Purim is a joy of defiance. We will not let antisemites destroy our spirit; and we will not allow melancholy to rob us of our souls. Joy is simply too holy to give up on. And like the two jesters, we will find joy however we can.
This sort of joy is quite difficult to achieve. If your heart is broken, you can only find comfort in tears. It is painful to smile and laugh. When you get pulled into the public arena, you count the seconds until you can retreat to your cocoon of pain, the only place you feel you belong.
This year, after eighteen months of war, Purim feels like it’s a burden. But we must find a way to laugh, even with broken hearts.
The Purim costumes featured this week in Israeli newspapers remind us that you can celebrate in a time of trauma. Some of the children have dressed as former hostage Emily Damari, with their hands wrapped into the defiant three-finger salute Emily made famous. Others dressed as former hostage Romi Gonen, who loved animal prints. Entire classes at schools dressed in Batman costumes in tribute to the Bibas family.
Even on Purim we have not forgotten those we love, and we have not forgotten the last eighteen months. But we will not let go of joy. The children are smiling in these costumes; and when Purim comes, all of us will celebrate, no matter how difficult it is. As Rav Nachman said:
Therefore, one must compel themselves with great force to always be joyful.
And we will rejoice, no matter what. Just as Jews always have.
Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz is the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York.
