It’s more than just a fleeting feeling. It's actually connected to something quite profound.
The book of Devarim, Deuteronomy, tells us, "and you shall rejoice." But it doesn't leave it there. The Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early rabbinic legal interpretations on Deuteronomy, points out a fascinating parallel. This "rejoicing" is linked to another "rejoicing" mentioned elsewhere in the Torah (Deuteronomy 27:7). And that other rejoicing? It’s specifically tied to peace offerings, to bringing sacrifices of thanks and gratitude.
So, what's the takeaway? True joy, the kind the Torah encourages, isn't just about personal happiness. It's intertwined with acts of giving, acts of connection, and expressions of gratitude to God. : the most profound joy often comes when we share our blessings with others.
And speaking of blessings, the Sifrei Devarim continues, "In all to which you put your hands, I shall place blessing in it." This isn’t just about material success, although that can be part of it. It’s about the potential for holiness in every action, every endeavor. It's about the idea that God's blessing can infuse everything we do when we approach it with intention and gratitude. This blessing, we learn, is tied to vows and gifts, to our commitments and offerings.
But what about the way we actually do things? The Sifrei Devarim then takes us back to a time before the Temple in Jerusalem. "You shall not do as all that we do here today" (Deuteronomy 12:8). This verse speaks to a transition in Jewish practice.
Before the mishkan, the portable sanctuary in the desert, was established, things were different. The bamoth, individual altars, were permitted. People could offer sacrifices more or less anywhere, and the firstborn sons often performed the sacrificial service.
Imagine the scene: families connecting with God in their own way, in their own spaces. A more decentralized, perhaps even more spontaneous, form of worship.
But then came a shift.
Once the mishkan was established, those individual altars became forbidden. The sacrificial service became the domain of the Cohanim, the priestly class, descendants of Aaron. Why the change?
The establishment of the mishkan, and later the Temple in Jerusalem, centralized worship. It created a focal point, a place of unity for the entire nation. It moved away from individual expression toward communal observance. This wasn't about stifling personal connection, but about creating a shared experience, a collective identity rooted in a single sacred space.
So, what does all this mean for us today? We no longer have the Temple, nor do we offer sacrifices in the traditional sense. But the underlying principles remain relevant.
True joy is still connected to gratitude and giving. Our actions can still be infused with blessing. And while we may not have a physical Temple, we can still strive to create sacred spaces in our lives – spaces of connection, of meaning, and of shared experience.
Maybe that's something to consider as we move through our day: how can we bring a sense of the sacred into the ordinary? How can we find joy in the giving, and blessing in the doing?