“And what if a man isn’t blissful? What should he do about it?” Raizele cracked another egg
“And then he told me I don’t really want to be an architect — I just want to be happy.”
“He’s got a point there,” Raizele said, looking up from the mixer bowl. “It sounds like he’s no ordinary watchmaker.”
“He said that Hashem created us to take pleasure in living, to be fulfilled. He is the essence of love and mercy, and He created man in order to give him the utmost bliss.”
“And what if a man isn’t blissful? What should he do about it?” Raizele cracked another egg, checked it, and slid the white into the mixing bowl.
“He talked about that too,” said Yanky. “I had the same question, but before I had a chance to ask it, he said, ‘You were created in order to be happy, but what if you’re wandering around confused, not knowing where to find the happiness you were created for? What if you start thinking that a profession, money, or success will bring you that bliss? There might be times when you feel so unhappy that you don’t want to live anymore….
“ ‘To help you stay on track, the Borei gave you eitzahs. He gave you the holy Torah, and in it He wrote 613 eitzahs, 613 pieces of advice on how to be happy. He knows you, and He knows the world, and He knows that following these eitzahs leads to happiness. When a person carries out these eitzahs, his soul learns to experience true bliss. And whether he’s an engineer, a doctor, or a street sweeper, he will find happiness.’ ”
It had been months since Raizele saw Yanky look so animated. But still, something made her balk at the idea he was expressing. “I know lots of people who do all the mitzvos and aren’t happy at all!” she protested. “In any building in any frum neighborhood, you’ll find a few people who have all kinds of complexes and emotional problems.”
“Then they’re not doing the mitzvos right,” he answered immediately. “I learned that back in cheder, in seventh grade: ‘If one finds his suitcase too heavy, then it’s a sign he’s not carrying it right.’ ”
“Could I have that orange liqueur I asked you to buy?” said Raizele. “I mean, I want to hear what you’re saying about suitcases and happiness, but first I want to start whipping these egg whites.”
“Orange liqueur? Oy, I forgot. I was so focused on the watchmaker, and then I went to learn with Weinberger, and I completely forgot I was supposed to buy the liqueur. I’m so sorry…. So how can we solve this? Maybe we have something at home. How about cherry brandy — would that work?”
Raizele shook her head. “No, not for this recipe. And I don’t want to leave it for tomorrow — I already separated the eggs, and the bottom layer is in the oven already.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll run out to one of those 24-hour convenience stores. There’s one by the Davidka, and if they don’t have it, I’ll try somewhere else. Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you somehow.”
It was a quarter past eleven when he stepped into the shop by the Davidka, pointed to the liquor shelves, and asked for a bottle of orange liqueur.
“Sorry,” said the sales clerk. “It’s after eleven.”
“What?” said Yanky. “Isn’t this a 24-hour operation?”
“Yes,” said the clerk. “But there’s a law against selling alcoholic beverages after 11 p.m.”
