GEN1271 … Do not hanker for the table of kings, for your table is greater than theirs… Pirkei Avot VI:5  On one thing philosophers, thinkers and writers seem to agree: Pursue happiness as a goal, and it will elude you. And the more intense the search, the more bitter the disappointment.  If happiness comes at all, it arrives by chance, as a byproduct. When our own Patriarch Jacob left home as a young man, in flight from Esau, to join an uncle he did not know in a land he had never seen, all he asked of the Almighty was “bread to eat and clothing to wear”; it would be enough to survive.   When he returned home from Laban, he was the wealthy owner of “oxen, donkeys, manservants, and maidservants.” Genesis 32:6  Wheatever happiness riches could bring—at the least, freedom from want—Jacob gained without particularly seeking it. Later in life, “Jacob dwelt (literally,, sat) in the land of his father’s sojournings”: Genesis 37:1 Jacob sat, expecting serenity in his later years. He looked forward to the happiness of peace and quiet, after a life filled with tribulations enough. Came the disappearance of his beloved son Joseph, sold into slavery by his other sons, and he knew greater grief than ever before. When our Patriarch asked for bread, he attained riches. When he sought ease and rest in leisure, he found tribulation and sorrow. How sane and sound, then is the counsel of this perek.   If you are fortunate enough to study Torah, do not seek the happiness of a royal table daily set for a banquet, or a regal crown of honor and might. With or without Torah, such goals are highly uncertain. If you gain them, they may prove disastrously hollow. Be content even with a crust of bread and salt, a bit of water, and a place on the ground to sleep. Is this a way to happiness? Yes, but not a happiness that this world knows.   Bear in mind that “your Employer can be trusted to pay you the reward for your work” – in a world of eternal bless: “Know … that the Lord God, He is God, the trustworthy God who keeps the covenant and loving-kindness for those who love Him and keep His mitzvot …” Deuteronomy 7:9. Let this be the leitmotif that runs through your life, and you will never go astray. The pious Hafetz Hayyim [Rabbi Israel Meir HaCohen Kagan, 1839-1933 - AJL] wrote a number of volumes to instruct his people in the ways of devotion. Wanting to publish some, he discovered that in his country no one could issue a book without the formal approval of an official censor. The censor for Hebrew books was a man named Steinberg, so to him the Hafetz Hayyim went.  This Steinberg had studied Torah in his youth and was quite learned. But to achieve his position he had cast off every trace of his ancestral religion and learned to toady to government superiors.  When the Hafetz Hayyim entered his office, Steinberg looked up in surprise.   “Yisra’el Me’ir!” he cried. “Do you remember me? We started studying Torah together in that little schoolroom in back of the town. Well now,” he continued smugly, “look at you, and look at me: I am quite rich, I have a position of importance, a magnificent home, liveried servants … And you – with all your Torah, what have you? You are poor. Your overcoat is worn. And you must come to ask me ever so politely to let you publish your books! Where is your wisdom? Learn from me: live the way I do!”   For a moment the Hafetz Hayyim was silent. Then gently he said, “As I was walking into your office, a man drew alongside in a handsome coach drawn by magnificent horses, and he offered me a seat beside him.  Perhaps I should have accepted eagerly. But I rather asked him where he was going. He and I were headed in quite different directions; and I declined his offer. But then, you and I are also going in different directions --- and I must equally decline with thanks your offer to take me along. You see, I am headed toward a different destination, and I intend to get there.”   SINAI3 322-3