My son, Lev, who is 11 months old now (I cannot believe it), has a book he loves called Grumpy Monkey. In it, a monkey named Jim Panzee is feeling down for no clear reason, and all the other jungle animals are trying to cheer him up. Everyone has advice on how to feel better, which only makes Jim feel worse. Finally, he sits down with a friend of his, who is also having a bad day, and they don’t try to make each other feel better, and after a while, Jim starts to feel a little better.
In the Jewish calendar, we are in the month of Adar. The Talmud says, “When Adar enters, joy increases (Mishenichnas Adar marbin b'simchah).”
When I first heard this phrase, I honestly felt averse to it. Like our protagonist Jim Panzee, I didn’t want to be told how I should feel, and I didn’t want to feel judged if I didn’t feel joyful.
But in the same teaching from the Talmud, before we read about joy increasing in Adar, we read first, “When Av enters, joy decreases.” In the month of Av, we traditionally commemorate and mourn the destruction of the Temple. It’s a time in our calendar that invites us into sadness and grief. (Predictably, when Av comes around, I also don’t like being told how to feel, but that’s for another time).
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about joy this past year since reflecting on it at Malkhut’s Kol Nidre services. I think when our sages tell us, Mishenichnas Adar marbin b'simchah, they are inviting us to do two important things:
One: they are inviting us to cultivate balance in our hearts, minds, and bodies. If we have an opportunity to increase joy to balance out the grief, it can be beneficial and healthy to do that. On the other hand, if we are too wrapped up in pleasure and not aware of the suffering of the world, we need to bring balance to our awareness in this respect as well, and allow ourselves to notice the suffering in us and around us so that we can be moved to take compassionate action.
Two: they are inviting us to notice that feelings come and go. Sometimes we will feel joy, and sometimes we will feel grief. But no feeling stays around permanently. Our calendar’s invitation to increase or decrease joy doesn’t have to be taken as a mandate, but as a reminder to notice that our joy increases, and it decreases, and it increases, and it decreases, and this is how it is to have a human heart.
As Adar enters and we celebrate Purim, may we be blessed with awareness of the impermanence of feelings, and with a healthy balance of pleasure and compassion that can help us to navigate the joys and the sorrows of life.
