The chagim have just ended and, if you’re like me, you’re still bathing in the spiritual afterglow. With one holiday after another, it’s a religious, spiritual and cultural whirlwind experience. Now that Simchat Torah has come and gone, we find ourselves, once more, knee-deep in the mundane world. Whether it’s driving a car full of school-aged children, working at a 9-5ish job or doing endless amounts of laundry, it’s easy to lose sight of the wonderful high we just experienced as we focus on meeting our “real world” responsibilities.
So, perhaps an important question to ask ourselves is how can we sustain the high? How can we continue to feel emotionally and spiritually uplifted as we move ahead into the frozen tundra otherwise known as the months separating joyous hakafot and four cups of inebriating wine?
For those who are religious, one obvious way to avoid a spiritual let-down is to continue going to shul and attending shiurim. There is another answer, however, that applies to (and appeals to) both religious and irreligious Jews alike.
A good friend once shared with me that he was living an Orthodox lifestyle because of the cultural benefits for him and his family. He had grown up Orthodox and, at some point, decided he no longer subscribed to the religious tenets of Judaism. Still, he recognized there were benefits to being part of an Orthodox community and this is what kept him “in the fold,” so to speak.
My friend was referring to the social and cultural aspects to Orthodox Judaism, but the truth is that communities that affiliate themselves with Judaism on any level share many of the same cultural aspects. These include a sense of belonging to something greater than oneself, social support networks, communal events and friendships that evolve as a result of membership within the community.
Participating in the cultural aspects to Judaism, regardless of where one stands religiously, can be a very powerful way to sustain our spiritual and emotional high. This is because such participation draws us away from ourselves and focuses our attention on things much greater and more important than the mundane. People are social creatures by nature and we yearn for meaning that is deeper than the bottom line of our financial statement. This is one reason, for example, why it feels so good to attend a bar or bat mitzvah, a brit or even a communal outing.
When we volunteer our time or expertise to a local agency or institution, when we spend time with family and when we focus on cultivating meaningful friendships, we find ourselves uplifted by a feeling of purpose that is far more gratifying than accumulating physical possessions. This is why, if we want to know the key to emotional and spiritual fulfillment, we need look no further than what occurs at a funeral or when a person sits shiva.
Over the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays), Rabbi Larry Rothwachs (Rabbi of Beth Aaron in Teaneck) shared a sobering observation about the juxtaposition between what we often think is important while we’re alive and what others recount about us after we’ve died. When we’re alive, we often spend much time and effort chasing after prestige, professional accomplishments, and superficial accolades. When we pass away and our friends and relatives speak about us in remembrance, they rarely speak of such things. Instead, they talk about how loving we were as a parent and spouse, how selfless we were in helping others or how learned and pious we were.
It says in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of Our Fathers) that a rich person is a person who is happy with his lot. But, it is also true that a happy person is one who is rich in ways that have little to do with his lot. In other words, happiness and fulfillment have very little, if anything, to do with our physical possessions and everything to do with our state of mind and how we live our lives; and, in the context of this article, specifically how we live our lives in relation to our community.
I am constantly amazed at how people are able to find extra time in the day to volunteer for meaningful causes after working long hours and taking care of large (or not so large) families, as if they somehow have found a 25th hour in the day. My wife (an amazing gourmet cook and all-around wonderful person) derives great pleasure from cooking meals for people in the community (e.g., after someone has just had a baby and is otherwise too busy to cook for themselves, or for someone who is infirmed). In a recent conversation I had with a family rav, the conversation found its way to the importance of davening for others. There’s a good feeling that is very pure and unadulterated that comes from placing another’s needs in the forefront.
In looking back on the chagim we just celebrated, it can be difficult to conceive of a way to not feel a let-down. After all, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot are pretty hard acts to follow. Perhaps even worse than feeling a let-down, however, would be to not even notice that we’ve slipped back into a routine of humdrum drudgery and monotony. Before we know it, our mindset and attitude will have reverted to a focus on the mundane and superficial and we won’t even be aware of the shift.
One very powerful antidote to this is to be actively involved in all that is wonderful and inspiring about Judaism. This way lies the path to lasting emotional fulfillment, spiritual meaning and joyful happiness. Let’s not wait until we’re dead to focus on what is really meaningful and important; let’s start today.
Dr. Gur-Aryeh is a clinical psychologist with a private practice in Saddle Brook, NJ. He works with a wide variety of clients seeking mental health treatment and specializes in mood disorders and addiction in particular. If you would like to contact him, you can do so at [email protected], at 201-406-9710 or through his website at www.shovalguraryehphd.com.
By Shoval Gur-Aryeh, PhD
