Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

Imagine two people, arrested by the police under suspicion of committing a crime. There is insufficient evidence to convict them on a serious charge; there is only enough to convict them of a lesser offence. The police decide to encourage each to inform against the other. They separate them and make each the following proposal: if you testify against the other suspect, you will go free, and he will be imprisoned for ten years. If he testifies against you, and you stay silent, you will be sentenced to ten years in prison, and he will go free. If you both testify against one another, you will each receive a five-year sentence. If both of you stay silent, you will each be convicted of the lesser charge and face a one-year sentence.

It doesn’t take long to work out that the optimal strategy for each is to inform against the other. The result is that each will be imprisoned for five years. The paradox is that the best outcome would be for both to remain silent. They would then only face one year in prison. The reason that neither will opt for this strategy is that it depends on collaboration. However, since each is unable to know what the other is doing – there is no communication between them – they cannot take the risk of staying silent. This problem, an outgrowth of John von Neumann's game theory, is called the Prisoner’s Dilemma. It is remarkable because it shows that two people, both acting rationally, will produce a result that is bad for both of them.

There are two practices of Chol HaMoed Sukkos that seem diametrically opposed to one another. One the one hand, we have the Simchas Beis HaShoeva, quite literally the happiest sight in all of Jewish history, and on the other, the reading of Kohelet, quite possibly the most depressing and sobering Sefer in Tanach (that doesn't deal with destruction.) But the answer to this problem, is the solution to the prisoners' dilemma.

Simchas Beis HaShoeva

The Mishna (Sukka 51a) describes the celebrations in the Beis HaMikdash during Sukkos:

מתני׳ מי שלא ראה שמחת בית השואבה לא ראה שמחה מימיו... מנורות של זהב היו שם... ולא היה חצר בירושלים שאינה מאירה מאור בית השואבה

One who did not see the Celebration of the Place of the Drawing of the Water never saw celebration in his days... There were golden candelabra atop poles there in the courtyard... And the light from the candelabra was so bright that there was not a courtyard in Jerusalem that was not illuminated from the light of the Place of the Drawing of the Water.

It is curious to note: What were they so happy about? There was no food, no drink. Indeed, all that they had was light – and so much of it that it illuminated the entirety of Yerushalayim! But how is this the source of happiness?

Dovid HaMelech writes in Tehillim (97:11):

א֭וֹר זָרֻ֣עַ לַצַּדִּ֑יק וּֽלְיִשְׁרֵי־לֵ֥ב שִׂמְחָֽה Light is implanted in the tzadik, but the one who is upright of heart is happy.

What is the difference between a person who is upright and a person who is a tzadik?

The Malbim (ibid.) explains:

הצדיק הוא הכובש יצרו, והישר לב טבעו נוטה אל הטוב והוא ישמח כי אין לו מלחמה פנימית A Tzadik is a person who (struggles) and conquers their Yetzer Hara. But the one who is upright of heart is happy – he doesn't have any internal struggle.

Thus he explains: The light that a tzadik experiences is the light of Hashem that shines within them, as they embark on a new challenge. By developing, harnessing and investing in that light, they will eventually reach a point of simcha – of being a ישר לב.

To that end, we must consider that every Jew after Yom Kippur is a tzadik. Not quite ישרי לב – we are still struggling, but tzadikim.

Indeed, the vidui that we recite over and over again on Yom Kippur implies this same:

שאין אנו עזי פנים וקשי עורף לומר לפניך ד'...צדיקים אנחנו ולא חטאנו אבל אנחנו ואבותינו חטאנו We are not brazen enough to say that we are righteous and without sin... but we and our ancestors have sinned.

At no point do we denigrate ourselves to say we are reshaim – or even benonim – Apparently, we are brazen enough to say we are tzadikim! Tzadikim, who happened to have sinned.

So what advice does David HaMelech have for the struggling, (or flailing) tzadik, who does not yet experience the simcha of success? > שִׂמְח֣וּ צַ֭דִּיקִים בַּי״י֑ וְ֝הוֹד֗וּ לְזֵ֣כֶר קדְשֽׁוֹ > – Be happy in Hashem, you tzadikim; And give thanks to His holy name.

The Malbim continues: > שמחו צדיקים בה׳ – כי הוא דבוק עמכם בדבקות אהבה > You, the struggling tzadik – be happy! Hashem is connected to you with bonds of love.

The אור ה׳ that shines on the person in conflict, the person struggling, the person that wants to change is enough to be happy. That was the light of the שמחת בית השואבה.

The Beis Yaakov (בית יעקב הכולל שמחת בית השואבה ד״ה מי שלא ראה) explains similarly, that the light of that celebration was a reflection of the light inside each and every Jew, that enabled them to understand how precious each person is to Hashem.

The Greatness of Knowing Our Worth

But the Beis Yaakov then continues: Hashem made people with the innate capacity to receive from each other. But in a world of where each person is jealously protecting their own value, we cannot give and we cannot receive. But the moment a person understands their own value, that Hashem values them, they will not be afraid to share with others. Ultimately, the pain of exile comes from the stinginess and disconnect between people. The reason we act in a self interested way is that we believe that we need to exert are value. “If I don't stand up for myself, I will be valueless – so I cannot give, I certainly cannot receive.”

But at the Simchas Beis HaShoeva, where everyone felt their own self worth, they could finally give and take. For this reason, the Gemara explains how the Talmidei Chachamim would celebrate – juggling fire, and doing handstands – each one expressing themselves for the benefit of each other.

Hillel HaZaken would enter and declare: אם אני כאן – הכל כאן – If I am here, everyone is here. That is to say, “Look at me, what I have achieved. If I can do it, so can you. Let's help each other to grow together.”

The Value of Koheles

Koheles, written by the wisest of all people, Shlomo HaMelech is a somber tale of the futility of all our efforts. Why do we read it now? Why is this the focus of Shabbos Chol HaMoed? How does it compliment the Simchas Beis HaShoeva?

The Sfas Emes (וילך תרמ”ב) explains:

ויתכן לומר כי שלמה המלך ע”ה חיבר ספר קהלת על שם מצות הקהל שהיא בסוכות, וכשראה שיתבטל בית המקדש ומצות הקהל שנתחדש אז הארת התורה בכל שמיטה, הניח זה הכח בספר קהלת שחיבר על ימי הסוכות

Shlomo Hamelech wrote Koheles based on the Mitzvah of Hakhel (when the entirety of the nation would gather together) to be read on Sukkos. When he realized that the Beis HaMikdash would one day be destroyed, and the mitzvah of HaKhel along with it, he wrote Koheles.

The entirety of Koheles describes the futility of the individuals pursuit. It's a grand mussar shiur on the worthlessness of selfishness. הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים אָמַר קֹהֶלֶת – From the perspective of the Kahal – the Koheles – selfish pursuits are temporal, fickle and worthless.

The Solution to the Prisoners Dilemma is in realizing that Hashem already thinks I'm valuable, and there is no risk in helping another.

And this is the great secret of Sukkos: a life of Koheles; a life of Simchas Beis HaShoeva. May we soon be zocheh to see it במהרה בימינו.