.png)
That piece of clothing we bought with little thought, is the very same that someone is saving up in the hopes that one day they will be able to afford!
Dear Friends,
A boss drives up to work in a brand-new Lamborghini. One of his employees, eyes wide, says, “Wow, that’s an amazing car!” The boss, not missing a beat, replies, “If you work hard, put all your hours in, and strive for excellence, I’ll be able to get another one next year.”
It’s a humorous story, but there’s a more profound truth about appreciation—or rather, the lack of it. Too often, we look at success or happiness and think it’s just out of reach, never stopping to appreciate what we already have.
Last week, Oxford University and Gallup published their annual World Happiness Report. Out of 143 countries, Israel ranked 5th among the happiest countries (down just one place from 2023). This is simply incredible! Despite everything—October 7th, judicial reform protests, and a year of difficulty—Israel is in the top five! The report praises the "emotional resilience" of Israelis, especially the younger generation. This impressive feat demonstrates that happiness is less about circumstances and more about perspective. We decide whether to see the blessings or the burdens. Even more so, the art of appreciation shapes a reality where people, even amidst the suffering around them, become profoundly grateful for what they have—for example, hugging their children a little tighter after witnessing the plight of the captives in Gaza.
Similarly, author Bronnie Ware compiled The Top Five Regrets of the Dying based on her experience as an end-of-life nurse. One of the most striking regrets was, “I wish I had let myself be happier.” In reality, so many people seem to work hard at being unhappy, constantly dwelling on life’s imperfections: their relationships, careers, or even their physical appearance. As some of us tell our kids, "Life’s not fair, so get used to it." Or, as one lawyer once remarked, “Life isn’t meant to be fair; it’s meant to be lived.”
A story is told of the Chofetz Chaim (1838-1933), who met a former student enduring hardships. When asked how he was doing, the student replied, “Unfortunately, things are very bad.” The Chofetz Chaim immediately interrupted him, “G-d forbid! Never say things are bad; rather, say they are bitter.” The student, confused, responded, “What’s the difference? My life is terrible!” With compassion, the Chofetz Chaim explained, “There’s a great difference. A bitter medicine is difficult to swallow, but it’s not bad. It’s part of healing.”
Consider how we overlook our blessings daily. That car you take for granted is the very item someone else is saving up for, hoping to upgrade from a bike to a car for deliveries. The clothes you buy on sale may be someone else’s dream purchase that they still question if they can afford. The restaurants you frequent are the once-a-year occasion for others. That piece of clothing we bought with little thought is the very same that someone is saving up in the hopes that one day they may be able to afford it. The 24/7 air conditioning we view as an absolute necessity is a luxury many don’t even dream of. And the healthy body you wake up with is the same body so many others pray to merit.
As the powerful quote goes, “If you can't have what you want, then it's time to want what you have.” Or “Everyone is looking for the City of Happiness, but it’s all in the State of Mind.”
So why are we so hesitant to appreciate what we have? It seems so obvious—especially as we live in the most prosperous and comfortable era in human history. Why do we struggle to acknowledge our blessings?
The answer, I believe, lies in the subconscious psychological discomfort that comes with gratitude. Recognizing the good in our lives would leave us indebted to the source of those blessings—whether it’s Hashem or the people around us. We naturally avoid feelings of obligation. As Shlomo HaMelech wisely said, “The borrower is a servant to the lender” (Mishlei 22:7). There’s a discomfort in feeling we owe someone, and this discomfort leads us to focus on what we lack rather than what we have.
If we fully appreciated our blessings, we would be filled with gratitude, and that gratitude often leads to a sense of responsibility. It’s easier to justify unhappiness if we avoid the feeling of indebtedness to those who have helped us—a parent, a spouse, a teacher, or even Hashem.
This is also why some of the quietest words we ever state are 'Thank you!', we essentially want to get it over with and pay our debt of gratitude off. To that effect, Rav Dovid Kronglas, former mashgiach of Yeshivas Ner Yisrael, explains why it is that the Torah is last weeks Parsha (Ki Savo) is so particular that when we bring the Bikkurim, a Mitzvah of gratitude, we must loudly read the text (Rashi Devarim 26:5). He explains that usually, people scream out loud when they’re in trouble, when they face some crisis. People shout when they need help, when they or a loved one is sick, unemployed, or otherwise in distress. But once the crisis is solved – when the patient is cured, when a job is found, when the shidduch is made, etc. – the “thank you” is often muted. People seldom express gratitude to Hashem as “loudly,” with the same emotion as they pray and cry in times of distress.
The Torah, therefore, commanded, וענית ואמרת – that the farmer must shout “thank you” for all the blessings that Hashem has bestowed upon him and upon the Jewish People. Just as he had prayed with fierce emotion for a successful yield, that there should be sufficient rainfall, and that the crops should grow properly and be protected from harm, so must he say “thank you” with fierce emotion. Our gratitude must be as loud as our cries for help!
This also helps us understand why, after reading the harsh rebuke in the Torah, the reasons for the punishment are given (Devarim 28:47): "Because you didn't serve Hashem your G-d with joyfulness, and with gladness of heart, for the abundance. But no, if we don't serve Hashem, we joy; with the abundance of blessing that we were given, we are essentially shirking responsibility to avoid feeling indebted to G-d - that is unconscionable, and such importance of the trait of appreciation.
As we approach Rosh Hashanah, the message of Hakarat HaTov—gratitude—becomes even more crucial. Soon, we will stand before Hashem as individuals, with no guarantees of life, health, or sustenance. What we’ve had until now doesn’t ensure we’ll continue to have it in the future.
May we all merit a Ksiva Vachasima Tovah!
Sholom S. Mimran