May 11, 2026|כ"ד אייר ה' אלפים תשפ"ו What Do People Feel When They Walk Into Your Home? By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

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 30b) teaches, אין השכינה שורה מתוך עצבות, 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.