fbpx

Accepting our own limits: Laziness or happiness?

[additional-authors]
November 10, 2010

We are taught early and often in life that we should shoot for the stars, dream high, aspire for greatness, and at any rate to never rest on our laurels. And there’s no question that we’ve gotten to where we are today by taking this advice to heart, and that the world is a better place because so many others have done similarly.

Yet we are also taught that the one who achieves happiness in life, is the one who is happy with his lot. Which is to say that there is a point at which wishing for more that we already have, or reaching for more than we’ve already achieved, will generate only frustration, unhappiness, or even despair. Of course we naturally hate the idea of accepting limits on what we can do. We resist the idea that we may not be as talented or smart as others are, or as we wish we ourselves could be. But there is apparently a time for stopping and doing exactly this, a time for counting one’s blessings. Not only because it is virtuous to do so, but also because this will keep us emotionally healthy and sane. 

Two teachings, two directions. Figuring out where to walk between these two grand pieces of advice, can be a wrenching process.

Like you, I find myself reflecting fairly often on the things that I’ve not yet achieved in life. Sometimes these periods of reflection yield new motivation, a renewed determination. Just as often, they produce frustration and unhappiness, for which the only antidote – and it’s an effective and satisfying one – is to count my blessings, to count the things that I have been able to achieve. And to remember that all of these achievements are the result of God’s gifts and guidance to me, which makes my unhappiness a form of ingratitude. Yet, even at the times when I think I’ve succeeded at counting my blessings and being happy with my lot,  the voice that views this whole idea with deep suspicion, buzzes by just within earshot. Am I just giving up too easily under the guise of being appreciative of what I have?

I had the great blessing this week of hearing my friend Rabbi Ari Leubitz speak at the bris of his newborn son. He spoke openly and movingly about the fact that he and his wife had prayed for this child for several years –  for several long unanswered years. They had been blessed with two children toward the beginning of their marriage, and desperately desired to continue building their family, but number three just wasn’t coming. Rav Ari, his eyes dampening, went on to describe the way that he and his wife eventually turned their attention to counting their blessings, and to appreciating and loving their two children even more deeply, to fully internalizing how blessed their family already was,  and to recognizing the goodness that God had already bestowed upon them. And then, as things turned out, just as they were doing all of this, their original prayer was answered. As if in the merit of learning how to rejoice in the lot they already possessed.

For everything there is a time and a season. A time to demand more from yourself, and a time to accept personal limits and count one’s blessings. And I guess there is also a time to wonder whether there is some great mystical interaction between these two things, one which brings new opportunities just when you learned how to be happy even without them. 

 

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

The Beat Goes On

While so much of the world seems obsessed with and consumed by its hatred of Israel and Jews, Israelis continue to build, create, work, celebrate, argue, raise families, and plan for the future.

Viral AI Video Targets Jewish Comedian

“The biggest concern is that people now have a pathway to shut down Jewish voices through complete falsities that people will believe. … For the future of Jewish entertainment, it’s very scary.”

Yiddish Historians: Writing in Their Own Language for Their Own People

Mark Smith has compiled an important anthology of Jewish history using 49 works by Yiddish historians to recreate or at least open the door to a world of Jewish thought that was once almost mainstream, but which no longer exists, except in the minds of too few specialists.

The Everlasting Melody

Most Jews who have sung “Eitz Chaim” over the past half-century probably never knew Portnoy. They did not know when he wrote the melody or how young he was when he composed it. They simply knew the song.

Who’s Really the Victim?

Those who would revel in Israel’s demise are claiming victimhood on every front and denying attacks on us in the same breath.

Biblical Deterrence

After Oct. 7, the sentiment in Israel toward the Iranian leadership was unequivocal: You went medieval — so we will go biblical.

How Sukkot Makes Us Whole

This year, I bless us that we open our eyes to truly see the beauty and the holiness of the world, and of the person before us at each and every moment, and to see the godliness of their aspirations and their fears.

The New Ushpizot

Ushpizin invite us to “welcome in our ancestral constellation and dwell amongst them.” This year, it’s Ushpizot, for the women. It’s the year of the Feminist Visitation.

Macklemore, Or Less

In between his songs, he proclaimed, “Free Palestine,” which is fine, asserted that opposing Israeli military actions is not antisemitic, which is accurate, and accused Israel of apartheid and genocide, which is offensive, untrue and hateful.

The Rokeach’s Remarkable Sukkah

To Rabbi Eleazar ben Judah of Worms (1176-1238), the medieval German pietist known as the Rokeach, the sukkah symbolized Jewish military might.

The Sukkah and the Power of Endurance

They can destroy our Temples, demonize us in social media, shower us with hate, but they can’t destroy a spirit that never stops building. That enduring spirit is the power of the sukkah.

NY Mag’s Habibi City

A satirical response to Zaina Arafat’s erasure of Jews in her New York Magazine article “Habibi City,” written as Zaina Arafat.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.