The Ancient Secret to True Joy: What They Never Taught You - Rabbi Zamir Cohen (AI)

Shalom and warm greetings. Judaism presents a fascinating demand. Serve God with joy. This means that every Jew is expected to be joyful at all times. In the book or sadikim, paths of the righteous. A powerful question is raised. How can you demand of a person not to fear if he's genuinely afraid? How can you demand of a person to be happy when in reality he feels anything but that? There are many actions you can ask of someone. Concrete behaviors that are within their control. But emotions, how can someone be commanded to feel something, be happy, don't be afraid? Every person wants to achieve these emotional heights. And yet, Judaism takes this demand so seriously that there's even a strong rebuke in the Torah for failing to serve God joyfully. As Mymones explains regarding the verse, because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and a glad heart, this failure can lead to severe consequences. Interestingly, there are only two times a year when we're told to adjust the level of our joy. When the month of Av enters, we reduce our joy. Note, it doesn't say to be sad, just to dial down the joy. When the month of Adar enters, we increase our joy. This raises an important and pressing question, especially in difficult times. When someone is going through personal suffering, hardship or distress, when the Jewish people as a whole are in crisis, how can anyone be expected to feel joyful despite everything? The sadikim explains, "God wants the Jewish people and humanity as a whole to live with joy. Serve God with joy is not a demand for God's own benefit like some cruel ruler seeking power. No, God is a loving king who desires the well-being of those he created. Everything he asks of us is for our own benefit. He says, "Serve me with joy because I want you to be happy. I want you to know that all of this is ultimately for your good." So, how can we truly be joyful even in difficult times? With God's help, let's examine the deeper meaning of joy, music, dancing, and laughter from a Jewish perspective. To achieve joy, we need to understand that there are two main paths we can take. One is mental, the way we think. The other is practical, the actions we take. Through both, a person can awaken and cultivate feelings of joy. The book explains that although we cannot simply command someone to feel an emotion, don't be afraid, be happy. We can guide a person to use their mind and thinking to generate those feelings. With the right mindset, the intellect can guide the heart. When your approach is healthy, your emotions can follow. Let's consider this from a psychological perspective. Is a human being naturally sad and needs a reason to be happy? or is he naturally happy and only needs a reason to become sad? When we look at adults, it seems that the default is sadness and that happiness takes effort. But that's actually not how we came into the world. When we examine children, we see something else entirely. In fact, it's the complete opposite. When you observe children, you'll see that their natural state is joy and they need a reason to be sad. If something bothers them, they cry intensely. But as soon as the problem is resolved, they return to their joyful state, completely forgetting they were sobbing just moments ago. This tells us something deep. The natural state of the human soul is to be joyful. So what happened? Over time, as we go through life, something begins to disrupt our inner systems, especially our natural connection to joy. Let's ask, what actually makes a child feel happy? What are the inner emotions that generate joy for a child? The answer is simple and powerful. A child feels that he is the center of the world. He has no worries. Everything he needs is taken care of. There's always someone to turn to, someone to rely on. He knows he may not always get what he wants, but the feeling inside is one of deep security. He feels loved, central, safe. And this leads us to something profound the sages taught in the Talmud, tractate Sanhedrin. Why was the first human being created alone? just one person. Unlike all the trees and animals which were created in multitudes, God wants the world to be filled with people. The Torah says he did not create it to be empty. He formed it to be inhabited. So why not create many humans right from the start? The answer is astonishing. The Mishna says, "Therefore, man was created as a single individual." Why? One reason is so that every person would recognize their own unique worth. So that each person can know there never was and never will be another person like me. This idea is so strong that the Talmud says, "Therefore, every person must say the world was created for me." At first glance, this might sound arrogant or self-important. But that's not the message. The Torah constantly teaches us to be humble and considerate. So what does the world was created for me really mean? It means that every person must understand their own value. Even if you were the only human being alive all alone on earth, you would still be worth creating the entire universe for. That's how valuable your life is. What proves this idea? When God created the world, how many people did he create? One. And from that one, all humanity emerged. In other words, you are as spiritually significant as Adam, the first human from whom an entire world came forth. You too have the ability to influence creation, to uplift it, to repair it. Adam through his actions had the potential to transform the world and so do you. In the eyes of God, you are not just one more person. You are central. You matter. The sages further explain that this is why no two human beings look exactly alike. We take this for granted that people have different faces. But think about it. If humans were like coins minted in a factory, wouldn't they all come out the same? Adam and Eve came from one body, same DNA. So logically, their children should have looked identical, but in reality, no two humans are alike. In the United States, a person can be convicted based on a fingerprint. Why? Because those tiny swirls at the tip of your finger, they are completely unique. There never was and never will be another set exactly like yours. Even triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets. They may look similar, but their identities are different. Even if others can't tell them apart, their mother knows exactly who's who. This is an astounding system, a divine fingerprint on creation. Only the creator could design a world where every single person is one of a kind. The Talmud offers several reasons why God designed such a complex system. One in which no two people are exactly alike. Of course, for God, creating such diversity isn't difficult at all. But from our human perspective, it's an awe inspiring wonder. One reason the sages give is so that a woman can recognize her husband and a man can recognize his wife. If all human beings had the same face, imagine the confusion. Someone could walk into a home and say, "I am your husband." And how would anyone know the truth? The uniqueness of every face, every person protects our identities and our relationships. Moreover, the Talmud explains why our thoughts are also hidden from others. Just as our faces are different, so are our opinions, our inner worlds. Why? Because if every person thought in exactly the same way, imagine the consequences. Let's say someone won the lottery or found a suitcase filled with diamonds. Now imagine a thief, someone dishonest, thinking, "If I were him, where would I hide it? on the top shelf, under the blankets. If everyone thought identically, he'd know exactly where to look. There would be no privacy, no individuality, no soul level uniqueness. So the Talmud teaches that God made us different, not just in appearance, but in thought, so that each person would recognize their own unique value and identity. When you say a simple blessing over a glass of water, blessed are you by whose word all came to be. You're repairing your specific spiritual path in the universe. Your blessing fulfills something only you can accomplish. Your friend's blessing is not your blessing. He can't fix what you can fix. You have a dedicated spiritual path. When you put on to fillin, that moment belongs to you and no one else. Rabbi of Voljin writes in Nephesh Hakim that every single day is a unique moment in creation, a pathway that exists only once. The tofillin you put on yesterday fulfilled one mission. Today's Tilan is a different mission entirely. It's like a ruler. All the markings may look the same, but each is in its own exact place. You are living now in this exact moment of history. And that means only you can fix what needs to be fixed today. Rabbi Haim writes something profound. A person living today can repair something in creation that even the greatest of our ancestors, Rabishimon Barhai, Moshe Rabenu or Abraham Ainu could not. How is that possible? Are we greater than they were? Of course not. But they lived in their generation and we live in ours. They fulfilled their tasks. But they aren't alive now. They can't fulfill today's mission, we can. That is the greatness of the human being. Just like a child feels, I am the center of the world. And from that comes joy, safety, and confidence. So too, the adult must learn to internalize this spiritual truth. For the child, this feeling is instinctive. He doesn't yet have full understanding. But the adult should reach this same clarity through awareness and faith. There's another reason children are naturally happy. They don't worry. They're not afraid of war, of financial stress, of how they'll pay the bills. They don't lie awake wondering if the paycheck will arrive. The child simply trusts there's someone who takes care of me. And in the same way, a person with true faith and trust in God can also say, "I have no worries. There's someone who takes care of me." As the sages say, "The one who gave you life will also give you sustenance." In Jewish tradition, we celebrate the holiday of Sukkot when we commemorate not just the booths we lived in, but the miraculous clouds of glory that surrounded and protected the Israelites in the desert. It was a daily miracle, a divine embrace. But that raises a question. Why don't we celebrate the mana and the water as separate holidays? After all, those were miracles, too. Every single day, mana fell from heaven, enough to feed millions in the desert. The well of Miriam, a rock that flowed with water, traveled with them. It's not simple to feed an entire nation in the wilderness day after day. Yet they would go out each morning and gather their food from heaven. Researcher Yahosua Etsion in his book, The Lost Bible, points to archaeological findings in the desert that support these traditions. This research was presented in the first part of the biblical archaeology book. It includes photographs of structures discovered in the desert, structures with no roofs. Based on their form, it's clear that they were likely covered with branches or foliage. Archaeologists found it puzzling. How could people live in such a place for an extended time? The buildings show signs of long-term habitation, but there is no water in the area. Yet among the artifacts unearthed in excavations were Egyptian items, including pestals and grinding tools, indicating that people prepared food there. The late Yahosua Etsion, a respected non-religious scholar, wrote in his book that in his view, there's no doubt these structures were the original Sukkot booths built by the Israelites after the Exodus from Egypt. According to Jewish tradition, Miriam's well, a miraculous source of water, traveled with them. They had food, mana, they had water, and they were surrounded by clouds of glory. All miracles in the desert. But that raises an important question. Why do we only celebrate the clouds of glory with the holiday of Sukkot? Why isn't there a holiday for mana or water, which were daily miracles that sustained millions, feeding an entire nation in the desert every single day? That's no small feat. And yet people would go out each morning and gather the mana. They ground it. They cooked with it or ate it raw. Each in their own way. It was a great miracle. So why do we only celebrate the clouds? The answer is profound. Food and water are necessities. If God takes you out into a desert, then yes, he must provide them. It's a basic need. But the clouds of glory, that was luxury, comfort, extra. We could have survived without them, but he gave them to us anyway. So we set aside a special holiday of gratitude for the extras to say, "Thank you, God, not only for what I need, but for the kindness beyond what I deserve." And this isn't just a lesson for the Israelites in the desert. It's a message for all of us. Each person should say, "God created me. He wants me to live. He'll help me earn a living. Yes, I need to make my effort. But if things aren't working out, I shouldn't fall into fear or despair." As the sages said, the one who gave you life will also give you sustenance. Let's read the words of Sadikim on this exact point. One who truly believes in God and trusts him wholeheartedly. This is a muna faith. This is beton trust to rely on him and feel inner peace. A person like that will not fear anything bad because he knows that the one who created everything rules over nature, protects him and provides for him. He continues, such a person will never feel enslaved to another human being just to win their favor. Yes, you can be polite, express gratitude, show respect, but you don't need to twist yourself or change your essence out of fear of anyone because you know they are not God. They are just a channel. The true provider is the creator. Your boss, he's just a pipe through which the blessing flows. He doesn't own you. He doesn't control your fate. Do not rely on people. Don't live as though your salvation will come from another human being. As the verse says, do not trust in princes, in a human being who cannot save. And the book concludes with this powerful idea. Even if people criticize you, mock you, or belittle you. If you are doing what's right, don't be ashamed. Don't back down. As the prophet said, "The Lord God will help me. Therefore, I will not be humiliated. When a person lives with this kind of faith and clarity, they walk through life with true freedom. One of the greatest causes of sadness in a person's life is the feeling of being enslaved to others opinions. What will people say? How do I come across? What do they think of me? That constant pressure from the gaze of others kills joy. But when a person reaches the clarity to say this is who I am. Yes, maybe I'm heavier or thinner. I have this kind of face or that. But I'm not dependent on people's approval. I don't live to impress anyone. The only one I seek favor from is God. And the only one I truly rely on is him. That mindset restores a person to the joy of childhood. But now in a healthy adult form, not like a naive child who doesn't understand life, but like someone mature, grounded, and spiritually centered. You recognize that in God's eyes, you are central to his world. You have someone to lean on. You don't live with fear. You know what's happening in the world. You're informed, but you're not overwhelmed by it. You know there's a higher power guiding everything. That clarity brings a person to inner peace and sustainable joy. This is the first key. A proper mindset. A shift in thought can lead to lasting happiness. Now let's explore a second path to joy giving meaning to everything you do. We've touched on this idea before, but now let's look at it from the lens of simatim. The joy of life. Imagine a wealthy philanthropist visiting Israel from abroad. He's taken on a tour of the country's defense industry. At one facility, he sees three men sweating as they each drive a bolt into the same missile, let's say into a nuclear warhead. He walks up and asks the first man, "What are you doing?" The man replies, "I'm tightening a bolt." He asks the second man, "And what are you doing?" I'm building a nuclear bomb. Then he turns to the third and asks the same question. This man answers, I'm defending the state of Israel. Same action, same bolt, but vastly different experiences based entirely on how each one interprets his work. The same applies to the everyday roles we often take for granted. Take a mother changing her baby's diaper. Ask the first woman, "What are you doing?" She replies, "Gh, I have this fussy baby who cries all day. What can I do? I have to change him." Ask the second. "I'm changing my son's diaper." Ask the third. "This baby is helpless. Without me, he could get sick or even worse. I'm saving his life. I'm raising a human being. Yes, he happens to be my son, but my mission here is sacred. I'm giving someone the care they need to survive. Same action. Three different experiences. Perspective creates joy. Even a simple fruit vendor can live with joy or not. One man wakes up in size again with the vegetables, crates, noise, stress, workers, mess. But another wakes up and says, "Today I get to supply fresh, healthy food to the people of Israel. Instead of eating junk, they'll get vitamins, minerals, better health for kids, for families." He walks into the same shop, opens the same crates, but with a sense of mission. That mindset transforms the experience, and from that meaning comes joy. Another major factor that weighs heavily on a person and harms their joy in life is personal suffering and hardship. A person may say, "All of this sounds nice in theory, but in practice, I'm facing real struggles. For one person, it's health problems. For another, it's difficulties with children. Someone else may have been trying to get married for years and it just hasn't worked out. Each person carries their own burden and feels my joy in life is damaged. They try to stay positive. They try to see the good. But deep down they're struggling. How am I supposed to find joy while I'm dealing with all this? Let's look again at the words of Zadikim, the ways of the righteous in the chapter on joy. He writes, "Even when a person experiences suffering, he should still rejoice." And the sages said, "Suffering is beloved." What does that mean? Suffering is beloved. If you love something, you value it. The Pelleoets, another classic ethical work, writes something striking. He says, "If we truly knew the spiritual benefit we gain from suffering, from the hardships we endure, instead of asking God to take it away, we would actually ask him for a little more." Why? Because suffering purifies a person. It refineses them. It elevates them and gives them a completely different perspective on life. When people have money, abundance, and physical pleasures, they can become consumed by materialism, losing themselves in physicality. But when a crisis hits, an accident, an illness, a financial collapse, suddenly they begin to see life differently. All the nonsense of the world shrinks in importance. Priorities shift. Clarity emerges. As Rabbi Eleza once said, "It was for my own good that the leg of my cow broke." He saw the hardship not as a curse, but as a gift in disguise. I've personally heard people say this. People who went through serious hardships and later said, "I thank God for that painful wakeup call. It elevated them to a higher spiritual level. It changed their view of life. It was painful, but it was worth it. And if we focus just on this one aspect that suffering cleanses a person from sin that it purifies and elevates then even suffering becomes a source of meaning. The sages said suffering is beloved and a person should train their lips to say this too is for the best. In the Talmud tract, we read about a sage named Nahumshamu whose motto was Gamu Ltova. This too is for the best. No matter what happened to him, that's what he said. And eventually the phrase became so associated with him that it became his name because he had truly internalized the belief that everything God does is for the good. Another sage Rabi Aka would say, "Call Davidid Rahmana latav avid. Everything that God does, he does for the good." This is not just a mindset of blind optimism. It's a deep faith that transforms even the hardest moments into stepping stones for spiritual growth. And from that faith comes unshakable joy. There's a well-known story from the Talmud about Rabbi Aka which illustrates his famous saying, "Everything that God does, he does for the good." Rabbi Aka was once traveling with three essential items. A rooster, which served as his alarm clock. In those days, people would wake with the sunrise, and the rooster's crow would alert them. a donkey which was his mode of transportation and a candle which he used to study Torah at night since there was no electricity back then. He was going from town to town teaching Torah and collecting charity for the poor. He was the spiritual leader of his generation. One evening he arrived at a village and asked for a place to stay but no one would open their door. He could have said, "This is how they treat someone who came to help." But instead, he calmly said, "Everything that God does is for the good." He went out to sleep in a nearby field. That night, a wind blew and extinguished his candle, so he couldn't study. Then, a fox came and ate his rooster. Moments later, a lion attacked and killed his donkey. Now imagine what most people would say in his situation. What's going on? Why is everything falling apart? But not Rabbi Aka. He repeated the same words. Everything that God does is for the good. The next morning, he approached the town and saw smoke rising in the distance. Bandits had raided the entire village during the night. They burned it down, looted everything, and killed everyone inside. Rabbi Aka immediately understood. Had he been inside one of those houses, he would not have survived. Had his candle been burning, the robbers would have seen the light. Had his rooster crowed or his donkey braided, they would have heard and come for him. He said, "Thank you, God, for extinguishing the candle. Thank you for taking away the rooster and the donkey. You removed everything that could have harmed me to protect me. Sometimes we see God's kindness immediately like Rabbi Aka did. Sometimes it takes months or even years until we realize what a painful moment saved us from. The Talmud in tractate need tells another story. Two men were scheduled to board a ship. as one was about to step on a thorn lodged in his foot and he had to go to the hospital. He was furious, cursing his day. He was hoping to travel for business and now he'd miss everything. He thought the delay was ruining his plans. But weeks later, he heard that the ship had sunk and everyone on board had died. He suddenly realized that Thorne had saved his life. Sometimes we realize the good right away. Sometimes it takes a lifetime. And sometimes only after we leave this world do we finally see the big picture. But if a person teaches themselves, trains their heart to trust and say whatever God does, it's for the good, they can live with deep joy even in life's hardest moments because they know there's a divine plan. Life is not random. No one can truly harm me unless God allows it. God is the artist and I am his creation. No one gets to scribble over his masterpiece. If he allows something to happen, it must be for a reason and ultimately it's for the good. We humans tend to think life starts at birth and ends at death. That's why we fall into sadness, disappointment, and anger. But when we understand that there's life before this world and after this world, that this world is just a corridor leading to a greater destination, we begin to receive life differently. We stop resisting. We stop panicking. We gain peace, perspective, and a lasting joy that nothing in this world can take away. A person who views this world as the main purpose of life. Who thinks we came here for material pleasure will often feel frustrated and disappointed. Why? Because this world can be deeply disappointing. But when someone knows the truth that this world is only a corridor, a preparation, everything changes. He asks himself, "What am I truly taking with me today? I put on to fillin. That's why I came to this world. I kept Shabbat. I gave charity. I did an act of kindness. I smiled at someone. I honored my parents. That's the reason I was born. Everything else, that's just noise. So, what if things didn't go my way today? I lost some money. Someone insulted me. It's okay. I evaluate life based on this one question. What does God want from me right now? As long as I'm aligned with God's will, I'm building myself. I study Torah to understand what he expects of me. I grow, attend classes, read books, improve, and I reach my spiritual potential. A person who lives like that is filled with deep lasting joy. Now, let's look at some practical tools for joy. So far, we focused on mindset, but there are also experiential paths to happiness. In the book Hutzoen the code there's a deep teaching in our tradition singing music and sacred melodies can uplift a person and bring them real joy. Our sages say the following. When the musician played the hand of God came upon Elisha the prophet. 2 Kings 3:15. The Jerusalem Talmud tells a story about Yona son of Amiti. The prophet Yona, the one we read about on Yumkapur, he wasn't born a prophet. He was an ordinary man, one of the pilgrims who went up to Jerusalem for the festivals. But something incredible happened. He came to the holy temple during the festival of Sukkot during the celebration known as Simhadashiva, the water drawing celebration which the sages describe as the greatest joy imaginable. So great they said whoever never saw the joy of Simhutiva never saw joy in his life. Men and women stood on separate levels. Holy music, dancing and light lit up the entire city of Jerusalem. Yorna entered that atmosphere of joy. And through the dancing, the music, the singing, he reached a state of spiritual elevation so pure that he merited divine prophecy. That's what the Talmud means when it says the divine presence rests only upon a person who is joyful. Why is that? What's the logic behind it? Each one of us, every man and woman has a soul that is spiritual. But most of us don't hear the voice of God. We don't feel that spiritual connection. Why? Because there's a barrier. And that barrier is called the body. God says, "No human can see me and live." The body is heavy, physical. It separates us from higher awareness. When a soul leaves the body after death, it suddenly sees and understands things with clarity. But during our time on earth, our spiritual essence, the soul, is cloaked inside a physical form. And yet when a person experiences spiritual joy, joy that comes from purity, from holiness, from a mitzvah, something amazing happens. Music, singing, and sacred melody have a way of piercing through the barrier of the body. They reach the deepest parts of the soul. They awaken the spiritual self. When someone dances with joy during a mitzvah, sings with holy passion, or connects through music to something higher. For a moment, they're not just in a body. They feel like they're above the body. No temptations, no distractions, just a soul yearning to connect to its creator. That's why in the temple in that joy, Yona became a prophet. Because true joy is a gateway to prophecy, to clarity, to purpose, and to God. Music has the power to touch the most sensitive strings of the soul to the point that a person can still be inside a physical body and yet feel as if the body isn't even there. This is what happened to Yonas of Amiti. At the height of the singing and dancing in the temple, he reached such a level of the spiritual connection that he no longer felt the weight of his body. No urges, no temptations, just one desire to cleave to God. And at that moment, he was filled with divine inspiration. He became a prophet. He could see what was happening in distant places. God spoke to him because although he was still in a physical body, he had risen above the the limitations of the physical world. We see something similar with the prophet Elisha. At one point he wanted to receive prophecy, but he was angry. Even though his anger was justified, a wicked king had approached him alongside a righteous king. He couldn't receive prophecy in a state of emotional disturbance. So what did he do? He asked for a musician. And as the music began to play, the verse says, "When the musician played, the hand of God came upon him." 2 Kings 3:15, "The Talmud presents a seeming contradiction in the words of King Solomon. In one verse, he says, "And I praise joy," implying that joy is a wonderful thing. But elsewhere he says, "About laughter, I said it is madness. And about joy, what does it accomplish? So which is it? Is joy good or bad? Our sages resolve this beautifully. I praised joy. That refers to joy connected to a mitzvah. And what does joy accomplish? That refers to empty joy. Joy that's disconnected from purpose. The lesson. True joy. The kind that invites the divine presence only comes from meaningful joy. Not from sadness, not from laziness, not from foolishness, not from small talk or frivolity. Only from the joy of a mitzvah, from our higher purpose. That's why it says, "And now bring me a musician." And as the musician played, the hand of God came upon him. Music has a powerful sacred force. It goes straight to the soul. There was a fascinating study conducted in the United States. Researchers discovered how deep music's effect can go, especially for people with uh and chronic pain. Many patients who suffer from constant pain are forced to take in strong painkillers. Some even resort to controlled substances just to function. But these medications come without serious side effects and long-term damage. So researchers tried something new. They told patients, "When you take your painkiller, when your body begins to calm down, listen to the music you loved most before your pain began." Maybe you were 17, 15, or 20. Try to remember what music made you feel most alive before the accident, before the illness. Make a playlist of those exact songs. Even if you haven't heard them in decades, then listen to those songs every time you take your medication. Do it consistently. What they found was extraordinary. Over time, the brain began to associate the music itself with the relief of pain. Eventually, patients could listen to the music without the medication. and still experience relief. Why? Because the brain had been trained to connect those melodies with comfort, safety, and calm. That is the power of music. To reach into the soul, speak to the mind and command the body to relax. Even when the pain is physical, a melody from the past tied to a feeling of peace can a heal. This discovery is something that should be shared because it can genuinely help people. Music is not just entertainment. It's medicine for the heart, for the mind, and for the soul. And when used with purpose, it can bring people relief, healing, and even spiritual elevation. Let's read a beautiful insight from the book Live Nath. Why does the soul feel such pleasure when a person hears music? What is it about melody that moves us so deeply? The author explains, "The soul comes from the bundle of life, from the higher realms. Before entering the body, the soul existed in the upper garden of Eden where it was constantly surrounded by the songs of angels praising the creator. So now, even while inside the body, when the soul hears a melody, it recognizes it. It feels a deep familiar comfort, a spiritual delight that reminds it of where it came from. And when that musical pleasure is elevated with holiness, it can even bring down the spirit of God just like in its original state above. This explains how music can awaken within a person a longing for closeness to God, a powerful spiritual yearning and connection. The Maharal of Prague writes that true joy brings a person to spiritual completeness and through joy the divine presence rests upon them. It's in this elevated state that a person can merit ruahhes divine inspiration. The great cabalist Rabbi Khim Vital teaches, "If a person rejoices in every mitzvah he performs as if he just received a reward of a thousand,000 gold dinars, it is guaranteed he will attain ruak hakadesh." These words aren't poetic metaphor. He means it literally. But what's the condition? He says, "Train yourself to rejoice in every mitzvah as if you had just received an unimaginable treasure because the actual reward for a mitzvah, it's far greater than a th000,000 gold coins. Imagine this. You wake up in the morning and head to synagogue to pray, just like every day. But today, to your surprise, the entire street is filled with tables. You count them. 1,00 tables and on each table is a pile of 1,000 gold coins. You're stunned. The sunlight glimmers off the coins. You ask the guard, "What's all this?" He replies, "The moment you finish putting on your tofillin, these are yours." Then he adds, "And if you put on your head terillin as well, look down the next street. There's another 1,000 tables waiting just for you. Now imagine how you'd feel during that prayer. Would you dance while putting on tilin? Would your heart be filled with overwhelming joy? That's the point. Rabi Vital says this is how you should feel every time you do a mitzvah because the actual reward in the world to come is infinitely greater. There's a profound principle in Kabala that physics has only recently caught up to. From a small amount of matter, you can unleash enormous energy. That's the concept behind a nuclear bomb. It might be the size of a table, but its energy is devastating. Cabalists say the same is true with mitzvot. You gave five shekels to charity. It seems like a small act, but in the spiritual world, it creates massive energy. You overcame a temptation. You avoided anger. You kept Shabbat. You just generated immense spiritual light. A woman goes shopping and chooses a modest outfit. It may seem small, but in heaven, the reward is enormous. And this brings us to something else. The phenomenon of dance. Why do humans naturally dance? We all see it at weddings, at joyous celebrations, it feels so natural, but think about it. If we asked the best dancer in the room to get up and perform right now with no music, he'd probably say, "Are you kidding? That would be insane." So why is it that with music we feel free to move, to leap, to dance? Livnat Hasapir explains, "When a person hears music, the soul remembers. It remembers the melodies of heaven, the songs of angels. Even though it's inside a body which is heavy and governed by gravity, the soul begins to move. And as the soul moves, it takes the body with it. Sometimes it even jumps upward as if trying to return to that higher place." So dance too is not just physical. It's the sole yearning for its source. A physical expression of a spiritual longing. That is the power of music and mitzvot to lift us out of the mundane. To connect us to eternity and to fill our lives with joy, holiness, and purpose. Why is it that when music plays, people suddenly feel free to move in ways they'd never do otherwise? If you ask even the best dancer to perform without music, he might say, "What am I crazy?" But the moment music begins, everything changes. Even alone in a room, people can dance. What is the secret? According to the teachings of the great cabalist who authored Livnat Hasapir, this phenomenon is deeply spiritual. He explains, "The soul originates from the bundle of life above and is accustomed to hearing the songs of angels. Now, even while enclosed in a physical body, when it hears a melody, it finds peace and pleasure because it remembers that spiritual music from its heavenly source. The real you is your soul. Your body is just a temporary container. It's heavy. It's bound by gravity. But when the soul hears a melody, it stirs. And as it begins to move, it moves the body, too. This is the essence of dance. A physical expression of the soul's longing to return upward. The soul wants to ascend, but gravity pulls it back down, so it jumps again. That's dance. Dance at its root is a soul reaching for heaven. There's a powerful spiritual principle. This opposite that whatever exists in holiness has a counterpart in impurity. So music can elevate or it can degrade. Some music awakens holy emotion. It brings joy. It inspires. It uses pure sacred words. It can connect you to your creator. But other music it can do the opposite. It carries destructive energy, coarse lyrics, crude beats, and it dulls your soul. It causes confusion, noise, distraction. It pulls you into chaos, where deep reflection is replaced by impulse. Music is power. That's why it can move us so deeply and why we must be selective about what we let into our ears and hearts. Here's a curious thing. People often idolize singers, think logically. Why do we admire singers so much? Some of them in their personal lives are angry, abusive, dishonest. Yet on stage they are adored. Why? Because they produce sound from their throat. Air, vibration, rhythm. And suddenly people elevate them like gods. This teaches us something profound. Music touches the soul. So when a person hears music that stirs their heart, they can transfer that feeling onto the performer. But we must be careful. We must monitor our admiration. Who do we look up to? Who do we model ourselves after? A popular singer or actor may be idolized here, but in the next world, no one may want to be within a 100 miles of them because of the moral destruction they caused. So don't be swept away by pop culture. Look at life through a true lens. Don't let the noisy world around you drown out what really matters. And what does bring deep lasting joy to the heart. As King David wrote, "The commandments of God are upright. They bring joy to the heart. Learning Torah brings true joy. But there's a challenge. The evil inclination constantly tries to distract. Watch the news, eat something, go for a drive, watch a movie, anything. Just don't open that book of Torah. But just like the body needs daily meals, even when you're busy, the soul also needs its daily nourishment. Open a page of Talmud. Study Jewish law. Read books of ethics. Listen to a Torah lecture. Even if it feels hard at first, over time the joy will awaken. At first it may feel like a struggle. But then the light breaks through. As the verse says, those who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Suddenly Torah starts making sense. The language becomes familiar. You feel uplifted. And as that spiritual world opens before you, you begin to feel real joy. The kind that fills the soul. Let us dedicate this message to the protection of the people of Israel and the soldiers of Israel wherever they may be. May God guard all those who are learning and listening with us wherever they are and bless them with long life and peace. Amen.