The first thing that most people said to us when they received our wedding invitation was, "Cool"You guys have the same middle name!" It's true: my middle name is Meir, and Natalie's is Meira. The second thing people said was, "Josh, your mom's name is Happy?" This is also true: Though my mom's name on her birth certificate is Sheila, she has been known in the family as Happy since she was born.

Coincidentally (or not), the themes of my d'var torah center on both of these words: Light ("or" in Hebrew, the root of Meir and Meira) and happiness ("simcha"). The two are linked in a famous passage from the book of Esther which we read this week on Purim: "The Jews had light and happiness, gladness and riches." I would like to explore both of these themes independently, then discuss their relationship, and then discuss how they are involved with love and marriage.

LIGHT: Symbol of Light, Foundation of Holiness, Parshat Teruma, the portion of the Torah which we read last week, deals with the objects in the Tabernacle"the altar, the menorah, the Ark of the Covenant, and other ritual fixtures. As a natural continuation, this week's parsha, Tetzaveh, is completely devoted to the clothing worn by the priests in the Tabernacle. Well, almost completely. The opening verses of the parsha are not about clothing, but a ritual the priests are to practice:

You shall further instruct the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives for lighting, for kindling lamps regularly. Aaron and his sons shall set them up in the Tent of Meeting, outside the curtain which is over the [Ark of] the Covenant, [to burn] from evening to morning before the LORD. It shall be a due from the Israelites for all time, throughout the ages. (Ex. 27:20-21; JPS trans.)

Before God instructs Moses about how to dress Aaron and the other priests, we get this injunction. What's even more interesting is that this same section is quoted again, almost word for word, in Leviticus 24:1-4.

The seeming out-of-placeness of this passage, as well as its later repetition, calls out for explication by the commentators, who readily oblige. They offer a variety of answers, all of which are very nice, but none of which take us in the direction I want to go. That is, with the exception of R. Meir Simcha HaKohen of Dvinsk, a 19th century Hasid and author of the "Meshech Chochma," who first quotes the 12th century Spanish commentator Abraham ibn Ezra:

According to Ibn Ezra even though we know that God only spoke to Moses during the day, as it is said, "On/In the day that God spoke to Moses," (Ex. 6:28), even so, when the lights [of the Menorah] were lit, it was like day, and God would speak with him even at night. For this reason the verse states, "[they will] bring to you," that is, for you"for a person's ability to understand is clear at a time of light. And it is like the phrase, "There is no light other than happiness" ("Ein orah elah simcha""). It is for this need, for preparation of the soul, that the oil comes: that Moses should speak with God upright and in simcha.

The Meshech Chochma points us towards a relationship between light and simcha. (I am purposefully choosing to leave "simcha" untranslated, since I will argue that it represents a particular kind of spiritual awareness, which I am not sure is adequately rendered into English.) According to this reading, there is something inherent in light that helps prepare Moses for his encounter with the Divine, and there is something inherent in simcha which is necessary for the encounter.

For some further insight, I'd like to turn to a Talmudic passage that records a disagreement between the School of Shammai and the School of Hillel over 2000 years ago. The two schools disagreed about many things, and here their argument is over the text of the blessing we make over the candle during the Havdalah ceremony at the end of Shabbat: Should we bless God as 'bara m'or ha'esh', 'the One Who created light,' (this is Beit Shammai's position), or 'borei m'orei ha'esh', 'the One Who creates lights' (Beit Hillel's version)? The Talmud takes up the case (Brachot 52b):

Raba said: All are agreed that the word 'bara' refers to the past. Where they differ is with respect to the word 'borei.' Beit Shammai maintains that borei means 'who will create in the future,' while Beit Hillel holds that borei can also refer to the past. R. Joseph cited in objection [to Beit Shammai] the verses, 'I form the light and create [borei] the darkness,' (Is. 45:7) and 'He formeth the mountains and createth the [borei] the wind.' (Amos 4:13) Rather, said R. Joseph: Both sides are agreed that both bara and borei can refer to the past. Where they differ is as to whether 'm'or' [light] or m'orei [lights] should be said. Beit Shammai is of the opinion that there is only one light in the fire, while Beit Hillel is of the opinion that there are several. It has been taught to the same effect: Beit Hillel said to Beit Shammai, 'There are several illuminations in the light.' (Soncino trans.)

The Talmud itself acknowledges that the two schools are really arguing about two things, both fascinating questions: 1) Was the 'ideal form' of light created once, in God's original Creation, or is it re-created every time we start a fire? 2) Is a light a single unit, or is it made up of many individual parts? (Particle physicists have been working on this question for centuries: Is light a wave or a particle? Pretty cool that the Rabbis were ahead of Newton by 1700 years.)

For our purposes here, I want to focus on the first question. Both answers are right, of course: Light is a form, but light is re-created every time we light a match or turn on a light switch. Light, the physicists would tell us, is a paradox. But there's even more to it than that: There are only two acts of God's creation that human beings can really replicate, and they are the first and the last things God does: create light, and create other human beings. All of our creative capacity derives from our ability to create fire'light and heat, which allow us to release energy, turn turbines, mold metal, and do all those productive things we do. (The only exception to this I've been able to think of is sound; music, of course, is on another level altogether.) Thus the fact that we light candles to inaugurate Shabbat and festivals'and to end them'is a recognition of God's Creation, and an acknowledgment of our partnership with God in the continuance of Project Earth.

The candles, however, are also a reminder of the commandment which opens this parasha: Aaron's first act, the one he does every morning and every evening, is creating light, and our candles can be thought of in memory of that act. Light is the foundation of life and goodness, just as darkness is the foundation of death and evil. Isaiah gave us the words which we transformed into a blessing we say every day (Is. 45:7): 'I form light and create darkness, I make goodness and create evil'I the LORD do all these things.' The Tabernacle is to be the seat of holiness in the world; therefore death is banished from its confines. The basic act of every morning and evening in the Tabernacle (and later the Temple in Jerusalem) is the creation of light, symbol of life and foundation of holiness.

LIGHT AND SIMCHA: Preparation for an Encounter with God So back to the Meshech Chochma's question: how does light create an atmosphere of simcha to prepare Moses for his Divine encounter? To answer this question I'd like to look at how the word 'simcha' is used in our prayers.

I could only find two mentions of 'simcha' in the main part of Shacharit, the morning service: before the Shema, when we say 'nagilah v'nismicha b' yeshuatecha,' 'We will rejoice and make simcha in your salvation;' and 'Moshe uvnei Yisrael l'cha anu shira b'simcha rabba v'amru chulam: Mi chamocha'', 'Moses and the children of Israel answered to you in song, in great simcha, and they said, 'Who is like you?'' That's all I was able to find.

What do both of these uses of 'simcha' have in common? They are both uttered in conjunction with redemption. In the first instance, simcha describes the state we will be in during Messianic times, when the world is spiritually redeemed. In the second, simcha describes the state of the Israelites during the first redemption'the miracle at the Red Sea.

In fact, if we look at other uses of simcha, we find that throughout the Bible 'simcha' is associated with redemptive moments. One such example is the frequent use of 'simcha' in Esther. In the face of near-annihilation, the Jews are miraculously saved, and the day scheduled for their destruction is changed to a day of 'simcha': ''the fourteenth and fifteenth of the month of Adar were the same days on which the Jews gained relief from their enemies, and the same month which had been turned about for them from sorrow to 'simcha' and from mourning to a holiday'to make them days of feasting and 'simcha,' and sending portions [of food and presents] to one another, and gifts to the poor.' (Esther 9:21-22)

So what is simcha? These uses of simcha point us towards a definition: Moments of simcha are moments when we apprehend redemption in our lives. That is, they are moments when the ideal possibility becomes reality, when this world becomes Eden. This can happen in one of two ways: by a change in reality, or by a change in our perception.

Here's another way to look at it. My teacher Yitz Greenberg pointed out the following equation: satisfaction=outcome/expectation

The level of our satisfaction our happiness depends on the reality (outcome) and the expected reality (expectation). Thus, if we have very high expectations, it will take a very good reality to make us moderately satisfied. If we have low expectations, then even a moderate reality will make us very satisfied. If we are the Israelites in the desert and we expect to be forced into the sea, or if we are the Jews of Persia who expect to be destroyed by Haman, our expectations are low indeed. So when the reality hits us of not just our survival, but our triumph, we are so satisfied as to call the event a 'miracle,' or a 'simcha.'

Of course the problem is that we are not confronted with existential threats all the time, and our reality is rarely shaken to such a degree that we can say something is a bona fide miracle. Yet we are expected to be in a state of simcha during our holidays, at a bris, at a wedding. What then are these simchas?

There is one other method of achieving a great level of satisfaction, and that is to experience an infinite reality over an infinite expectation. While ultimately this equation works out to 1, the unity that it represents comes about through a state of unlimited reality and unlimited expectation: it is the apprehension of the Divine which in kabalistic terms is called the 'Ein Sof,' 'without end.' This is what the Meshech Chochma means when he says that Moses must be elevated to a level of simcha before he approaches God. It is seeing the full possibility of the world played out in the world, transcending this world and bringing God into it at the same time. This is also, of course, the goal of the commandments: our mitzvot exist to turn the mundane into the holy, and to make the holy apprehendable. As Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav, a father of 19th century Hasidism famously said: 'Mitzvah gedolah lihyot b'simcha tamid,' 'It is a great commandment to always be in a state of simcha! .' Mitzvot only acquire their redemptive power when coupled with a state of spiritual awareness'the state of simcha.

SIMCHA, LOVE AND MARRIAGE I did it again: I neglected to answer the question we still have from the Meshech Chochma. We now know that light is a fundamental symbol of holiness and that simcha is a level of spiritual consciousness . So what do the two have to do with one another?

For an answer, I first want to look at another source, this time the opening mishna of the sixth chapter of Pirkei Avot: R. Meir omer:' 'Ohev et hamakom, ohev et habriot; m'sameach et hamkom, m'sameach et habriot (Avot 6:1),' 'Love God and love God's creation; give God pleasure and give pleasure to God's creation.'

The first question we ask here is on the meaning of simcha in this mishna. What does it mean to be 'm'sameach'? Here I think the mishna points to a similar idea as that which we get from the phrase that describes the love of husband and wife: ha-chatan m'sameach et hakalah'the groom pleases the bride. The love between bride and groom is given expression in the infinite happiness of which they are capable together. The love of bride and groom is a love in which two individuals see each other in their infinity, uniqueness, and fullness, as images of God; their ideal forms are made real through love.

The same then is true for the word 'm'sameach' in the mishna's context: to please God is to love God, and to please God's creatures is to love them. Thus R. Meir is really making one statement: To love God is to love God's creation, and vice versa, as each human being is formed in the image of God; and to give pleasure to God's creation is to give pleasure to God, and again vice versa. A relationship with God is inseparable from a relationship with other human beings. This notion is a reflection of [the] two central commandments of the Torah: 'Love your neighbor as yourself,' (Lev. 19:18) and 'You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your means.' (Deut. 6:5) The two loves are really one.

So where's the light? Back to Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel: As we noted, there's a second argument going on within their disagreement: Is there one 'form' of light, or is every light an infinite set of lights? Once again, they're both right: Light is paradoxically a unified beam and a group of differentiated particles at the same time. The first disagreement, about form versus reality, reflected a basic tension of life, between ideal and real. This second disagreement reflects another: the interplay of institution and individual, unity and difference. As Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai show us, light is a nexus point at which unique, individual particles become part of a collective wave.

Of course, the same can be said of marriage: It too is a nexus point at which two unique individuals become part of a collective unit. And one of the great challenges of marriage is to find a balance. At the wedding, we acknowledge and celebrate the imminence of the ideal, through infinite mutual love, in the lives of the bride and groom. Our sheva brachot draw attention to the mythical reality of Eden and the simcha of a redemptive moment, because the wedding is a redemptive moment: it is a moment when two people glimpse the potential for human existence to which we have been trying to return since Adam and Eve ate the fruit.

EPILOGUE: US I like to think that this d'var torah is particularly appropriate for Natalie and me. Our middle names remind us of the infinite, yet finite, light that exists in both of us as individuals and as a couple. Perhaps niftier than that, however, is that if you take our initials'yud, mem, pei; nun, mem, bet'they form the word 'm'bifnim,' or 'from within.' The Ishbitzer, another 19th century Hasid who wrote the Mei HaShiloach commentary on the Torah, writes on the opening verse of Parshat Tetzaveh that the contribution of olive oil by every Israelite was a symbol for the wisdom, insight, and potential that exists within each person. We hope to build our marriage in that spirit, and we pray that each day of our life and lives together will hold moments of redemption and transcendence, of light and simcha.

Shabbat shalom and Chag Purim sameach.

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