What Jewish Joy Really Means
When you search for “Jewish joy” on Instagram, a few scrolls brings you book covers, challah glamour pictures, videos of camp talent shows, and at least in my case, memes that have whimsical slogans like “jOY vey.” There are also a number of posts that say Jewish joy is resistance, set against empowering backdrops.
When you tell people in serious Jewish settings that you’re centering and prioritizing Jewish joy as an educational imperative, you tend to either be met with nods of affirmation, or, more likely, some pushback. No one is against Jewish joy. But there are many who will say that Jewish joy is the fluffy, light, nice window-dressings of Jewish life, which they hold as being in juxtaposition with the serious, rigorous learning, social experiences, and immersive moments that are held in high esteem. The serious moments, of course, are central to a lifelong journey of Jewish learning and living. But Jewish joy, rather than being the “cute” or at best “nice to have” parts of Jewish life, is its own educational imperative, to be treated with care, intentionality, and, as we look to the new year, prioritization.
Jewish joy is found in quiet moments, and in peak experiences. It’s something to be experienced when it happens naturally, and at the same time is something to be cultivated and pursued as a core component of a meaningful Jewish life. There are times when the rhythms of the Jewish year explicitly tell us we’re meant to prioritize joy, and commandments to rejoice in certain acts. And this season, as we begin the chaos and warmth of the holidays, is a time to explore the centering of joy.
Often, joy through a contemporary perspective is thought of as something that should be easy, and personal. Joy is something that many of us see as meant to be in service of us, our happiness, and our overall well-being. And while the moments when joy shows up in our lives are wonderful, joy as a practice calls for something deeper, and certainly more intentional. Jewish joy when practiced allows for choice and agency to inform how we access our identities. Through this framework, joy is both an input and an output, something that we intentionally cultivate and then are subsequently able to put out into the world.
As we enter into the new year, and the period of reflection that accompanies it, a framework for a serious exploration of Jewish joy allows us to express our agency as members of the Jewish people. We ask, what are the aspects of Jewish life, identity, and learning that I want to tap into, and in making those choices, we cultivate Jewish practices that are reflective of our values as individuals, and as a community.
Jewish wisdom, ritual, and tradition give us numerous entry points into Jewish joy as a lived expression of our identities.
Ritual. Rituals are stories told through actions instead of words, and can be used to evoke emotion, visceral connection, and to create meaning-making. We can use ritual to create moments of presence, and to intentionally pause. When we pause, and allow the cacophony of the world to quiet, in the silences that we create, we open up spaces for connection, reflection, and joy to fill.
Text. Jewish texts give us the tools to challenge the idea that joy is frivolous. While we may push back against certain constructs that the Torah creates around joy, particularly joy as an obligation, when we wrestle with the idea of joy as a commanded feeling, we also get to engage with joy as serious and meaningful. Joy is not recreational; it’s part of our spiritual renewal and fulfillment.
Dayenu. Each year at the Passover seder, we recite and repeat the word dayenu: enough. These days, an embrace of enoughness is countercultural in many ways. In a world that is constantly in pursuit of more, to the point where we’re so often left unsatisfied, what happens when we stop measuring our progress by what it missing? Naming when we are and have enough can transform us into a state of abundance, and with the contentment that comes with it, joy.
Left to its own devices, joy can be fleeting. But a pursuit of Jewish fulfillment that is grounded and rooted in the stories we tell, the ways that we practice, and the lenses through which we see the world has the power to transform not just ourselves, but the future we will create in the coming year. In a moment of Jewish polarization and a future that can seem uncertain, we aren’t looking to joy as the “easy way out” when it comes to Jewish education and living. Rather, joy is something we choose to pursue even more because of the hard moments. The way we find the light in them is how we create the reality of who we will become. Joy is meant to be noticed, created, shared, and ultimately, chosen.