We’re held responsible for living a happy life amid the bounty that the world provides

“The people were complaining… we remember the fish, the cucumbers… But now… there is nothing”

(Bamidbar 11:1-6)

WE

see later in this parshah that Bnei Yisrael were held responsible for these complaints. Yet where in the Torah do we find a mitzvah to be happy? In parshas Ki Savo, probably the most heart-rending section of the Torah, we find our answer. In discussing the 98 curses that could befall the Jewish People, the Torah states, “Because you did not serve Hashem with simchah and with a good heart, when you had an abundance of all” (Devarim 28:47). Failure to perform Hashem’s mitzvos with a sense of joy brings in its wake the greatest of calamities.

The Arizal observes that the word “b’simchah — in happiness” shares the same letters as “machshavah — thoughts.” Happiness is an attitude, a mindset determined by what we choose to focus on. Being sameiach shares the letters of “sham moach — there is the mind.” What we choose to focus our attention on will determine our simchah. (Rabbi Jonathan Rietti, TorahAnyTime)

“Did you eat your Wheaties today?” My father made his usual quip as we checked in our suitcases before our flight.

I squirmed. Did the clerk even understand the reference to the “breakfast of champions”? Did people even eat Wheaties anymore? Still, that never stopped my father from making the same joke every check-in, probably to distract the clerk from the weight of our suitcases. And it generally worked, but that didn’t make young me any less embarrassed.

How do we achieve this positive mindset? The pasuk discusses a “good heart.” What does this mean? Fundamentally speaking, the first usage of a word in the Torah reveals the essence of that item or trait. The first mention of the word heart is in the context of the generation of the flood: Their hearts were preoccupied with negativity all day long. A mind that is filled with good thoughts is always celebrating life. Someone, however, whose mind is occupied with focusing on the negative in his life lives his days impoverished of life’s beauty.

After finishing the Creation, it says, “And Hashem saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good” (Bereishis 1:31). Few things are referred to by Hashem as “good,” let alone “very good.” If that’s the case of the creation of the world, it must be something very special — and so we’re held responsible for living a happy life amid the bounty that the world provides. Although life inescapably includes misfortune and discomfort, the abundant good is so much greater.

Fast-forward, and I’m married, traveling often overseas, sans my Wheaties. Sure, my suitcases were often overweight, and I’d probably have benefitted from my father’s attempts to befriend the clerks. But I’d forgotten about that whole Wheaties line until that fateful week when I went rushing to the States for my father’s sudden petirah.

Imagine you’re at a close relative’s wedding. You pick up your drinking glass and it shatters, lightly cutting your finger. You’re still at the wedding you’ve anticipated, with the music, company and food. Yet, your finger’s throbbing cannot be ignored.

You have a mental decision to make. Do you choose to allow the pain in your finger to drown out the tremendous simchah? Or will the pain be overshadowed by the abundant good that’s present? The choice is yours.

Shlomo Hamelech says we always have this choice in life. We can decide to live mentally poverty-stricken, focusing on negativity and deficiencies. Or, we can choose to live b’simchah and celebrate life as one long banquet.

Sitting shivah is not something I care to describe. Halfway through, my husband left our kids with neighbors to join me in the States. I was drained and numb as we headed back to the airport after an emotionally surreal week. I still couldn’t grasp my father was gone; I couldn’t imagine a world without him.

My husband was silent, offering me solid support without the need for the many words that had filled up the week. As we approached check-in, he swung our one suitcase onto the belt.

The clerk was a young guy. He glanced at our small bag. “Guess I didn’t need to eat my Wheaties today,” he drawled.

I stared. Who was this guy who even knew what Wheaties was? But I found myself breaking into a smile for the first time in days, thanking Hashem for this hug.

“Hi, Abba,” I whispered.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 797)