| Being Grateful Even When It’s Messy Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday; a time when we celebrate and express gratitude for our freedom. American Jews have celebrated Thanksgiving since its inception and have been grateful to have found a relatively safe (until recently) haven where we have been able to live in with equal rights and protection. Being grateful is an essential Jewish trait. In Hebrew Jews are called Yehudim; we get our name from Judah (Yehuda), who was named by his mother, Leah, who wanted to express her gratitude after giving birth to her fourth son, so she named him Yehudah, which is from the root hoda’ah, which means gratitude to G-d. As such, it behooves us to focus on the topic of acknowledging the good we possess. Here are two marvelous stories told recently by Rabbi Elchonon Jacobovitz. A mother told me that she passed by her daughter’s room one morning, a few minutes after her daughter had gotten into a massive fight with her brother. Then, she heard her daughter saying Mizmor L’todah, (Psalm 100), A Song of thanks. She went into the room and she asked, “Why Mizmor L’todah? (Why are you grateful?) Didn’t you just get into a massive fight?” Her daughter replied yeah, Ma, I did get into a fight but I was thinking — I have a friend who’s an only child and she’s dying to have a brother. So, I decided that I’m going to say Mizmor L’todah; thank you, Hashem, that I have a brother to fight with.” Later that same week, I was driving and the car in front of me, a religious Jew, got into a massive crash. I got out of my car, ran over to help, and helped the driver get out. He was bloody and bruised but he seemed okay. We called an ambulance and I invited him into my car to wait until the ambulance arrived. When he sat down in my car, I heard him reciting Mizmor L’todah (Psalm 100), A Song of thanks. I was thinking, “Why Mizmor L’sodah? Didn’t you just get into a massive crash?” But then I overheard heard him saying to himself. “Thank you, Hashem, it’s just the car. Thank you, Hashem, it’s just a bruise, just some blood. Thank you, Hashem, I’m basically all right.” The basic takeaway from both stories is that when someone is looking to find ways to be grateful, there will be numerous opportunities. Instead of complaining about a brother who (she perceives) is a jerk, the situation can be transformed into a chance to be thankful—and so too for the guy who wrecked his car. But there’s another takeaway, one that is extremely helpful when we feel depressed or worthless due to poor choices or ‘curve balls’ such as sickness or other misfortunes thrown our way. Some people say, “I never thought this is where I’d be at this point in life.” What advice might we offer to that person? Every day—multiple times a day—we have a (sometimes massive) fight going with our inner voice telling us to do the wrong thing. That voice is called the yetzer hara, and it begins with telling us to sleep late— “so you’ll be a bit late to work, don’t you deserve a break? The voice gives us bad advice that can put us in compromising situations such as remaining in an emotionally abusive relationship, petty theft (“no one will miss a ream of paper from the office, and I need some at home”) or a married person being overly flirtatious at an office party. At the moment, it’s convenient and sometimes enjoyable but many times marriages, careers, and lives are ruined. As the saying goes, play stupid games, win stupid prizes. But here’s a message of encouragement to all who have fallen, people who have done things for which they can’t forgive themselves: be thankful you are still alive and still in the game. Yes, your foolish or impulsive action has ruined something in your life and perhaps has caused damage to someone for whom you care, but you can be thankful that you are still alive and can move on. At that moment, you have a choice. You can kvetch about what went wrong or do we break out in a song of thanks that you are still in the game. You still have your physical and mental health and can bring value to many people—that’s something to sing about. Take King David’s example, when he wrote (Psalm 104:34) I sing to Hashem that I’m alive; I sing to Hashem that I’m still here. As long as I’m here, I’m able to fight another round. There’s still hope, much hope—as long as there’s hope, there’s a future and I’m going to make the choice to rejoice. And perhaps that is the real meaning of Thanksgiving — not just a day to say “thank you,” but a reminder that gratitude is not something we feel after everything works out. Jewish gratitude is something we practice while we are still in the struggle. We sing even when life is messy.Leah named her son Yehudah before her life was perfect. That’s why we are called Yehudim — because we were never meant to wait until all the pieces fall into place to express gratitude. We say thank You, Hashem even when we still have questions. We say thank You even when the road ahead is unclear. That is perhaps the greatest Jewish strength: the ability to sing from inside the challenge — not just after we’ve overcome it. So, this year, may we be truly American — and deeply Jewish — by living up to our name: Yehudim. May we thank Hashem not only for the light — but also for the fight. May we see, even in our imperfect lives, the invitation to begin again. And may we all have the strength to proclaim: I’m still here. I still have a mission. And I choose to rejoice. |
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