That feeling is something the ancient rabbis grappled with too, especially when reading scripture. Take Psalm 118:24: "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us exult and rejoice in Him [bo]." The word bo is doing a lot of heavy lifting there, isn't it?
Rabbi Avin, in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, points out the ambiguity. Are we rejoicing in "Him" – the Holy One, blessed be He – or "it" – the day itself? It’s a small word, just two letters, but it opens up a whole world of interpretation.
It's like when you’re having a great day. Is it great because of what happened that day, or because you feel God's presence in it? See, the rabbis were all over this!
Then comes Solomon, the supposed author of Song of Songs (Shir HaShirim), to the rescue! Or at least, the text attributes this clarification to him. “Let us exult and rejoice in You,” Solomon declares. No more ambiguity! He's specifying: our rejoicing is directed towards the Holy One, blessed be He.
But it doesn't stop there. The text digs deeper, unpacking what it means to rejoice "in You." Is it "in Your salvation"? "In Your Torah"? "In fear of You"? It’s like concentric circles of meaning, each one drawing us closer to the heart of the matter. The text references Psalms 2:11, reminding us to "Serve the Lord with fear and rejoice with trembling." Rabbi David Luria notes this connection. It's a paradox, isn't it? To find joy even in reverence and awe.
And finally, Rabbi Yitzḥak offers a beautiful, almost mystical interpretation. He connects the word "bakh" – "in You" – to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, the very building blocks of the Torah. The Hebrew letters beit (ב) and kaf (כ), which have the numerical values of two and twenty respectively, spell out bakh. It's as if the very act of engaging with the Torah, with its letters and its stories, is an act of rejoicing in God.
So, what does it all mean? Maybe the rabbis are telling us that rejoicing isn't just a feeling, but a direction. It's a conscious choice to turn our hearts and minds towards the divine, whether we find it in the grand sweep of history or the simple act of reading sacred texts. And maybe, just maybe, the "what" of our rejoicing matters less than the "who."