Purim and the Joy That Isn't Outsourced

It's almost Purim. We all know what that means. Firstly, we have the Joy factor. Remember, this isn’t just run-of-the-mill happiness. It's more. And no, it's not just the unbridled revelry of Purim itself, it's all these things that are different manifestations of happiness, and then some. The root of “run-of-the-mill happiness” is “outsourced” by its very nature. And don't get me wrong, there are lots of things that make us happy that are good and even holy. And they each bring a unique quality that ultimately determines the DEGREE of the experience of happiness.

But Joy? That’s different. Joy is quieter. When it happens, it takes root from the inside, and it is a byproduct of what can be a scathingly honest personal review. This microscopic audit might not make us happy in the conventional sense, but it stems from a recognition of the limitations of happiness; typically, it's a turning point in a person's life where they realize that all the happiness seeking is aptly called “Child's play.” The questions we ask ourselves as we outgrow our happiness and try to discover a way to be that doesn't require incessant play vary from person to person. But that is the nature of this highly subjective process. What is it that I’m missing, that is a void that I can't “avoid” any longer?—is the kind of question one asks when seeking Joy. Where are the empty spaces, and how can I fill them in a way that resonates authentically with who I need to be, who I’ve dreamt about being, but only at night in my dreams only to be abandoned each day at the crack of dawn? Joy is the moment that we take a look at what the delayed version of ourselves might look like.

The Purim miracle, lacking any active mention of G-d, might seem lame compared to the grand rescue of Passover, but it is intentional. When G-d or anything outside of us moves us out of danger and carries us on its back, it's great, but it can only take us to happiness. When we feel like we are on our own and have to make a go of it, then we are beginning to flirt with the possibility of Joy.

The enigmatic and highly ironic passage in the Megilah that tells us that it was only on Purim that the Jewish people fully became themselves captures this idea so beautifully. Yes, the Sinai episode was happier, because the entertainment was spectacular. But Purim and the month of Adar, when we are challenged to be OK inside without distractions and entertainment, is the land where authentic Joy goes to be born, the place where we are asked to sit with ourselves, as we are, with acceptance. We wear the mask to mitigate the shame and extend compassion to the neglected self, for taking “two thousand years” to feel OK and safe to be who we are as we were meant to be, without the need to be whatever everyone else thinks we ought to be.