Speaking personally? Itâs not that itâs not talked about to outsiders, itâs that itâs not always talked about explicitly.
So, like... if you follow a bunch of jumblr bloggers and notice us going absolutely feral passing around some pictures of pomegranates? Thatâs Jewish joy. When you see our pictures of sukkot and chanukiyot and shabbat tables? Thatâs Jewish joy. Delightedly âyes-and-ingâ each other about speculative halacha? Thatâs Jewish joy.
More privately, part of our morning daily liturgy -something that, in many communities, is part of the âat home and waking upâ daily prayer routine as opposed to the âin synagogue and functionalâ daily prayer routine (although itâs usually still said in shul, at least in the spaces Iâm familiar with) is called âNissim BâChol Yomâ - (literally âMiracles in Every Dayâ), in which we express gratitude and wonder at the mundanities that theoretically shape our existence. Also in that âat home and waking upâ section are a prayer called âElohai Nâshamaâ in which we express gratitude for our souls, and âElohai Nâtzorâ (also said after using the restroom) in which we express awe at how wonderful it is that the human body works.
And to take that further, we have prayers of joy and wonder for surviving dangerous situations, but also for seeing mountains for the first time [ever/in a while] or the ocean or particularly beautiful people. There is so much joy and awe and wonder for the amazing world we live in, and that we are part of it, and it spills into so much of what we do.
When weâre jumping around going âYES AND THAT PERSON/TRADITION IS JEWISHâ -thatâs not âhey, notice usâ (okay, itâs sometimes âhey, notice usâ or âhey! please remember we existâ); itâs something we do in our own spaces too, and itâs an expression of joy -communal responsibility means that we arenât just shamed by each otherâs failings, but that we reflect the glow of each otherâs successes.
Ever been in a shul during a celebration, when we reach a lull and pelt the celebrants with candy while singing congratulations to them at the top of our lungs? Or watched the dancing spill out into the street as a community welcomes a new Torah? Heard the mood shift during the High Holy Days as we begin Ki Anu Amecha? Seen the look on a childâs face on their first day of school when you give them a honeystick and then start the lesson?
I had a rabbi growing up who dressed as Elmo for Purim every year so small children wouldnât be frightened by all the noise going on when we boo Haman, and every year, especially as it got late, he wound up with a whole bunch of children arrayed around him while he/the chazzan/various other congregants read the megillah; often holding a small child and pointing things out. In the synagogue I currently belong to, the Hokey Pokey is part of the Simchat Torah dance lineup so that even the smallest, least Jewishly-knowledgeable children will have something they are confident that they know and can participate in wholeheartedly. My bânai mitzvah class (I teach Sunday school) will launch into the Torah service at the top of their lungs with the slightest provocation because they think itâs fun to sing.
I wouldnât say that itâs about joy -not everything in Judaism is joyful, and something does not become less Jewish for not being joyous. And there is an unfortunate reality that often, when there is joy, itâs shaded together with sorrow or defiance. The broken glass at weddings, the spilled drops at the seder, the counting of the Omer, because we have so many things to never forget.
And beyond that there is so much longing written into Judaism. So many what-ifs. So many places where too many died. So many places where people still do. So many somedays and maybes. Musaf. Leshanah HaBaah. The way many people will fall silent near the end of Birkat HaMazon. And so much of that is hopeful, but at the same time, so much of it still commemorates tragedy.
But... well. Itâs not that we donât talk about our joy. We do. A lot. But I suspect itâs harder to immediately comprehend and recognize for people who want to learn but donât have the cultural context to do so. And I feel like portraying us as joyless and miserable and archaic and so caught up by the burden of historical suffering (not of our own making, for the more charitably minded) that we can and never will be free of it even if we want to (but we donât want to because thatâs how we manipulate people, for the particularly hostilely minded) is... a very efficient way to dehumanize us? Because people, writ large, experience joy. Experience a broad range of human emotions. So if âthose peopleâ donât? Well... thereâs probably something wrong with âthem.â Or at the very least weird about âthem.â To acknowledge our joy means to acknowledge that weâre people. That weâre still here, that weâre surviving, that weâre continuing to grow and change.
And there are a lot of people who are very threatened by that idea. Not just our joy, of course -this is a conversation Iâve had before with friends of other minority backgrounds. And on top of that... trauma can sell, and if you can convince the intended audience that it wasnât really that bad or give them a hero fantasy where they wouldâve helped, it can sell really well. Let them say âit couldâve happened to meâ and clutch their pearls, because they didnât quite empathize before. Let them walk away able to sleep soundly, secure that it wouldnâtâve been them as the victim, and if it had, someone wouldâve come to the rescue, because someone always does, because these are stories, not people. Let them sleep soundly, having not even considered that they wouldâve been the bad guys because those are characters and they know better.
And when all you know of a people is their pain, and you learn to define them by it, it becomes very difficult to see that thatâs not necessarily how they see or define themselves.
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
titsay
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
stormborns
