12 May WHAT DO PEOPLE FEEL WHEN THEY WALK INTO YOUR HOME?

Human beings are
naturally drawn to joy.
We gravitate toward
people who radiate
positivity, warmth, and
happiness. A smiling
face, an encouraging
word, genuine enthusiasm—these qualities
make us feel safe, uplifted, and energized.
Psychologists often speak about “emotional
contagion,” the idea that emotions spread
from person to person almost invisibly.
Spend a few minutes with someone anxious,
angry, or chronically negative, and you can
feel your own mood begin to sink. Spend
time with someone hopeful, upbeat, and
emotionally generous, and you often leave
feeling lighter yourself. Researchers have
even found that happiness tends to ripple
outward through relationships and social
networks, influencing not only close friends
and family, but entire communities.
Anyone who has walked into a tense room
has experienced this instinctively. Before a
word is spoken, you can feel the heaviness.
The opposite is equally true. There are people
whose very presence changes the atmosphere.
They smile, they greet warmly, they laugh
easily, and somehow everyone around them

breathes easier. Human beings are drawn
toward light. On the other hand, constant
negativity, criticism, anxiety, and pessimism
push people away. Nobody seeks out
someone whose presence leaves them
emotionally drained or burdened. No one
says, “Can we grab a cup of coffee, I’d love
to spend time absorbing some negativity.”
We instinctively avoid environments filled
with heaviness and despair, while we are
pulled toward people and places that make us
feel alive.
What is true for human relationships is true
spiritually as well. The Gemara (Shabbos
,אין השכינה שורה מתוך עצבות ,teaches) b30
the Divine Presence does not rest amidst
sadness. Hashem does not dwell where there
is chronic bitterness, hopelessness, or
emotional darkness. If we want to feel
closeness to Hashem in our homes, our
communities, and our lives, then those spaces
must become places of simcha. Joy is not
merely a personality trait or emotional
preference; it is a condition for hashra’as
haShechinah. The presence of Hashem is
found where there is warmth, positivity,
gratitude, and happiness.
Of course, Hashem and His Torah don’t deny

pain, sadness, or struggle. There are
moments in life when sadness is not
only understandable, but
appropriate. People experience
loss, disappointment, illness,
loneliness, anxiety, and heartbreak.
Some carry burdens that are
invisible to everyone around them.
There is room in Torah life for
tears, for grief, for feeling
overwhelmed, and for
acknowledging emotional pain
honestly and compassionately.
Simcha does not mean pretending
everything is fine or forcing artificial
happiness onto genuine suffering.
But while sadness may sometimes be part of
the human condition, it is not meant to
become the permanent emotional posture of a
Jewish life. The overall direction, the default
setting, and the aspiration should still be joy,
hope, gratitude, and emotional light. Even
when life is difficult, we try not to allow
darkness to define the atmosphere of our
homes or the spirit with which we encounter
others. The goal is not perfection. The goal is
to keep finding our way back to simcha.
Maybe this is one reason we always read
Parshas Bamidbar before Shavuos. The
opening pasuk of our Parsha tells us that
Hashem spoke to Moshe “B’midbar
Sinai,” in the wilderness of Sinai. Chazal
famously explain that only a person who
makes himself “like a desert” can receive
Torah. What does it mean to become like
a desert?
A desert is barren and empty. It is not a

place of luxury, arrogance, or self-
importance. There is no ostentation in the

desert. The desert strips away distractions
and forces simplicity. Spiritually,
becoming a “midbar” means approaching
Torah with humility. A person who is
consumed by ego, who believes they
already possess all the answers, cannot
truly receive Torah. Instead of allowing
Torah to shape them, they attempt to
reshape Torah into whatever already fits
their worldview. To receive Torah
authentically, a person must become
open, humble, and receptive, like an
empty landscape waiting to be filled.
But the Noam Elimelech, Rav Elimelech
of Lizhensk, points out a danger in this
metaphor. A desert is not only humble; it
is also dry, lonely, and empty. A person
can hear the call to humility and
mistakenly fall into sadness or emotional
depletion. One can begin to feel small in
an unhealthy way, leading to heaviness
and despair. The Noam Elimelech warns
that this feeling ultimately becomes a
major obstacle in avodas Hashem.
Depression and hopelessness weaken
spiritual life because the Shechinah rests

only where there is joy.
That is why the pasuk describing Hashem
talking to Moshe “B’midbar Sinai,” continues
with the words “B’Ohel Moed.” The Noam
Elimelech explains that a “moed” is a festival,
a Yom Tov, a time of celebration and
happiness. The Torah is teaching that even
after becoming a “midbar,” a person must
immediately transform their life into an
“Ohel Moed,” a tent filled with joy. Humility
must never become sadness. Selflessness
must never become despair.
Our homes are meant to be Ohel Moeds.
They should feel filled with life, warmth, and
simcha. One of the greatest responsibilities
spouses have to one another is creating an
atmosphere of joy in the home. Children
flourish emotionally and spiritually in homes
where there is smiling, encouragement,
music, warmth, and positivity. Of course, life
contains stress, pressure, disappointment,
and struggle. People come home exhausted
from work, overwhelmed by responsibilities,
and weighed down by worries. There are
seasons when joy feels distant and difficult.
But even then, the aspiration—even the
obligation—remains to create spaces that
ultimately lean toward light rather than
darkness.
Sometimes the smallest things create this
environment. A cheerful greeting when
someone walks through the door. Speaking
kindly instead of critically. Music playing in
the background. Bringing positive energy
into a room instead of tension. When you get
home from a difficult day, pause at the door
or even sit in the driveway for a few moments
to let go of the tension and stress and to focus
on being joyful and positivity. A person
should walk into a home or a shul and feel a
certain lightness, a sense that this is a place
where people are genuinely happy to be.
As we prepare for Shavuos to receive not
only the Torah anew but also the presence of
Hashem, remember, the prerequisite for this
presence is to be positive, happy and joyful.
Be a midbar, humble and open. But at the
same time do so without remaining barren
and emotionally empty. Turn your home and
your heart into an Ohel Moed, a place of
celebration and joy.