If only we were more successful, more comfortable, or more respected, if only we had a perfect bill of health, less to worry about, and more to look forward to, then we would most certainly be happy. Or so we think. We tend to see happiness as a result of our circumstances, relegating it to the distant realm of “if only, then...,” leaving us with little we can do to influence its actualization.

Accordingly, the word “happiness” is derived from the Middle English word “hap,” as in happenstance or haphazard, implying random chance or luck. If you were lucky enough to be born into ideal circumstances, you have the conditions needed to be happy. If not, it seems there isn’t much you can do to impact your sense of satisfaction in life.

On the other hand, b’simchah, the Hebrew word for being in a state of happiness, shares the same letters as the word machashavah, thought.1

Judaism views happiness as a way of thinking, which is something that we can consciously direct, as opposed to a state of being that results from a specific set of circumstances outside our control.

From this perspective, happiness does not derive from our objective state of affairs but from our subjective state of mind. Put simply by Plato: “Reality is created by the mind. We can change our reality by changing our mind.”

Meaning, it isn’t luck or happenstance that ensures our attainment of happiness; rather, it is the way we think about and process the circumstances we encounter along our path.

This simple idea has huge implications. It means that we can instantly achieve the happiness we seek by adjusting the focus of our thoughts.

This deceptively simple idea reveals that the greatest obstacle to our happiness is the mind’s tendency to fixate on the limitations of our circumstances and to regulate and take for granted the myriad good things we experience every day.

Each time we have a positive experience, we raise our expectations, sometimes exponentially, constantly needing more and more stimulus to achieve the same level of satisfaction.

In the words of our Sages: “He who has one hundred wants two hundred, and he who has two hundred wants four hundred.”2

As a result, we never reach the satisfaction we seek, and happiness remains an endless pursuit, a never-ending hedonic treadmill, always just beyond our reach. From this perspective, fulfillment becomes a frustrating illusion that never materializes.

Judaism’s solution to the “happiness problem” is to view happiness as a thought, making it an infinitely renewable resource, always at our disposal, rather than an existential lottery ticket.

All it requires is a minor investment of mental energy and an enhanced awareness to stop thinking only about what’s missing in our lives and focus instead on what is present. In the words of the Mishnah: “Who is wealthy? He who is satisfied with his lot.”3

True satisfaction in life comes not from having the things we want, but from wanting the things we have. To this end, there is a Jewish practice of reciting at least one hundred blessings each day, to seek out every opportunity to remember and verbally acknowledge our gratitude for the basic amenities of life. For in life, the only things we truly have are the things that we appreciate.

The letters that make up the word simchah also spell shemachah, which means erasure, teaching us that a key component to happiness is our ability to live fully in this moment, erasing, at least temporarily, any painful thoughts about the past or anxious thoughts relating to the future. Now is where true happiness is found.

The Baal Shem Tov taught that: “You are where your thoughts are.”4 Meaning that one’s true location is where their mind is focused. The letters of the word samei’ach, happy, also spell sham moach—the location of one’s thoughts. When we do not recognize that we are in control of our own happiness, we live in a near-constant state of anxiety and discontent, and that becomes a defining feature of our lives.

But when we realize that we have the capacity to choose and change our thoughts at any moment, we come to appreciate that the key to enduring happiness lies entirely in our hands.

The Big Idea

Happiness is a product of our subjective state of mind rather than our objective state of affairs.

It Happened Once

A man once came to R. DovBer, the Maggid of Mezritch, with a question.

“The Talmud tells us that ‘a person is supposed to bless G‑d for the bad just as he blesses Him for the good.’ How is this possible? Had our Sages said that one must accept without complaint or bitterness whatever is ordained from Heaven, I would be able to understand. I can even accept that, ultimately, everything is for the good, and that we are to bless and thank G‑d also for the seemingly negative developments in our lives.

“But how can a human being possibly react to what he experiences as bad in exactly the same way he responds to what he experiences as good? How can a person be as grateful for his troubles as he is for his joys?”

R. DovBer replied: “To find an answer to your question, you must visit my disciple, R. Zusha of Anipoli. Only he can help you in this matter.”

R. Zusha received his guest warmly and invited him to make himself at home. The visitor decided to observe R. Zusha’s conduct before posing his question. Before long, he concluded that his host truly exemplified the Talmudic dictum that so puzzled him. He couldn’t think of anyone who suffered more hardship in his life than did R. Zusha—a frightful pauper, there was never enough to eat in R. Zusha’s home, and his family was beset with all sorts of afflictions and illnesses. Yet, R. Zusha was always good-humored and cheerful, and constantly expressing his gratitude to the Almighty for all His kindness.

But what is his secret? How does he do it? The visitor finally decided to pose his question.

“I wish to ask you something,” he said to his host. “In fact, this is the purpose of my visit to you—our Rebbe advised me that you can provide me with the answer.”

“What is your question?” asked R. Zusha.

The visitor repeated what he had asked of the Maggid. “You raise a good point,” said R. Zusha, after thinking the matter through. “But why did our Rebbe send you to me? How would I know? He should have sent you to someone who has experienced suffering...”5