We Think We Need Something New, But We Really Need To Make What Matters Feel New Again (Chanukah)

Ever notice how quickly we jump to the next thing—new job, new podcast, new scroll—without finishing what’s in front of us? We chase novelty as if the cure for boredom lives just over the horizon. But what if the real fix isn’t finding something new, it’s learning to make what matters feel new again?

We unpack the honest reasons people leave: the job that lost its spark, the marriage that feels routine, the study that no longer stirs the heart. Instead of shaming those impulses, we trace them to burnout and a preview-first mindset shaped by endless feeds and constant options. Then we pivot to a different practice: renewal. Drawing on the spirit of Chanukah—rooted in chinuch, dedication and beginnings—we explore how to re-dedicate commitments so they stay alive. That means meeting work with purpose, nurturing relationships with simple daily rituals, and approaching learning as if it’s being given today.

Through historical lessons about what happens when service turns rote, we highlight the cost of “meh” and the power of youthful zeal grounded in worth. Renewal isn’t hype; it’s clear-eyed value that energizes action. You’ll hear practical ways to revive meaning: finish more often, set small constraints that focus attention, re-anchor goals to people you serve, and light figurative candles that mark fresh starts. This is a roadmap for those who feel the drift and want their commitments—career, love, or faith—to glow again instead of dimming into habit.

If this resonated, follow the show, share it with someone who needs a reset, and leave a quick review to tell us where you’ll begin again today.

Chapters

• 0:02 Why We Walk Away
• 0:50 Naming The Burnout
• 1:02 The Case For Renewal
• 1:23 Chanukah As Fresh Beginning
• 2:29 When Service Turns Routine
• 2:51 Choosing Zeal Over Meh

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:02

Why do couples get divorced? Why do promising young business executives suddenly change courses in their profession to seek new adventures? Why do young, promising Torah prodigies suddenly close their Gemaras to go seek fame and fortune out there in the real estate world? Why don't we finish certain talks or songs that we listen to or finish chapters that we're reading when we're scrolling through social media? But why do we have to go on to the next thing to see what lies just ahead? It's often the very same answer. It's just burnt out. The job isn't very exciting anymore. My marriage isn't what it used to be. The learning, I just don't feel it. So we want something new. But perhaps the problem isn't that we want something new, but it's in fact that we lack the commitment to keeping our objectives and our lives new and fresh. See, Khanukkah brings with it a certain excitement. The word chanukkah itself actually comes from the word chinuch, which means a new beginning. Chanuch. Kinuch Lenar. Begin the child. Chanuukah. It's an instituting, an inauguration. Chanukah is in the middle of the cold and dark winter, and we celebrate a new beginning. In fact, the Torah coaxes us to keep our relationship to Torah new and fresh. It should be every single day as if the Torah had been given. Wake up with a modahani with an excitement. So maybe yes. One is not faulted for wanting to keep his 50th anniversary as fresh as Hashanah Rishona, or his business to be his most exciting thing, or his Torah to be like his very day of his upshare, and when he just met the Olif base. The goal is to keep it like that, as much as possible. The ultimate tragedy that began to befall the Jewish people, the Hellenistic approach, it all started to fall apart because, says the Bach. Sayyidina Maharam. The His rashulba'a voda. Back then, the service became melancholy. Our service of Hashem became habitual by rote. It was just blasé, it was just meh, it was bland. The Matazio and his sons. They were Moister Nefesh because they understood the worth, and it was new, it was fresh, so they went out and said, This is something worth fighting for. A youthful exuberance. I'm not burnt out. But I understand the Erich, the depth of what it means to live as a Jew, and I understand why everyone wants to take it away from me. And why the Aetzahar tries so hard, and the Romans and the Greeks have all tried to remove my Jewish spirit.