In 1927, a banker who worked for the Lehman Brothers company was quoted in that year’s edition of the Harvard Business Review as making the following astonishing remark about his vision for the future of business in America: “We’ve decided that we must shift America from a needs- to a desires-culture. People must be trained to desire, to want new things, even before the old have been entirely consumed.”
As we all know, this plan was wildly successful. American culture was indeed transformed. People went from focusing on what they needed to focusing on what they desired. Even though we all have what we need, we always want more. We were all perfectly content with an iPhone 2 once upon a time, but now we can’t imagine using such a “primitive” device.
This transformation in our consumer culture was great for business, but it proved toxic to our brain, to our souls.
Actually, it has turned our lives into “garbage.”
A pasuk in Tehillim, which we recite in our Hallel service, says about Hashem:מקימי מעפר דל מאשפות ירים אביון – He lifts the poor person from the dust and from the “trash heap.” The Gaon of Vilna noted that this pasuk uses two different words to refer to a poor person – דל, and אביון. He explains that a דל is somebody who truly is poor, who does not have his basic needs filled. An אביון, by contrast, is somebody who is constantly תאב, who always desires more. An אביון is somebody who has what he needs, but always craves more. He is never satisfied with what he has.
Life for such a person is אשפות – like living in “garbage.” It’s terrible. It means living in a constant state of discontent, of never being able to experience happiness no matter how much one has, and always feeling miserable.
איזהו עשיר, השמח בחלקו. This famous Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot teaches that one is “wealthy” only if he is happy with what he has.
The happiest people in our community, as far as I am concerned, are those who spend within their means, without putting themselves in debt to live beyond their means. The happy people are those who wake up the morning after their child’s bar-mitzva or wedding without an enormous debt weighing on their shoulders that will take them years to repay. The happy people are those who go only on the vacations that they can reasonably afford, and who buy only the kind of clothing that they can reasonably afford, and are ok with that. The happy people are the ones who earn $100,000 a year and spend not a dime more than that. They’re content with what they have, and do not feel the need to extend beyond what they have.
How do we acquire this vital trait? Especially living in a “desires culture,” in which we are wired to constantly feel dissatisfied and always looking for what’s available that we don’t yet have, how can we achieve a feeling of joy and contentment?
Strategy 1: We Have More Than We Think
The first way is to realize that we have far more than we think we do.
The Hatam Sofer noted that the Mishnah teaches us to rejoice בחלקו – in our “portion.” What this means, he explains, is to recognize that everything that we think we have is just a חלק, a small portion of what we really have. We have been trained to think that we have very little, when in truth we all have so much. We are so accustomed to focusing our attention on what we don’t have, that we forget what we do have. How many of us even remember that we have sturdy houses that protect us from the elements? How many of us are cognizant of the fact that we have washing machines to wash our clothes for us? How many of us realize that we never experience hunger for lack of food – something that was a major problem for the vast majority of the world’s population for millennia, until maybe one or two centuries ago? How many of us even realize that we have running water and electricity twenty-four hours a day, every day? And what about our families, our cars, our freedoms, our safety, our healthcare? We have so much more than we think, and realizing this is the first critical step to experiencing contentment.
Whenever I meet with couples before their wedding, I tell them that the wedding itself is really not important. This might sound like a shocking statement, but it’s true. What’s important, I tell them, is day 2. If they are happy on day 2, and truly love each other on day 2, then this is an auspicious beginning to the marriage. Couples – and their parents – need to realize that the wedding is just four or so hours, a very small חלק of the couple’s marriage. People get so caught up with the flower arrangements, the entrees, the tablecloths, the gowns, and all the other fine details that they forget what’s really going on. The important thing is what happens for, please G-d, the 80 or so years after the wedding. Not too many guests will even pay attention to the flowers, and those who do are very unlikely to remember them in another week. The couple, however, will need to work to make each other happy and to care for each other a week after the wedding, and fifty years after the wedding. This is what’s important.
And this is true about life generally. We need to stop looking at our old car as defining our lives. We need to stop looking at our backyard as the only yard on the block without a pool. We have so much more than we think we do, and the more we focus on that the happier and more content we will be.
Strategy 2: We Have Exactly What We Need
Sometimes people wonder, why did Hashem make the world this way? Why is it that the number on the bank’s computer next to our name has such an impact on our lives? Why does life work this way, that we are limited by our financial means?
The Hafetz Haim explained by way of a brilliant analogy to a man who was hired to chisel the rocks in mountains. He was given a large pickaxe, and he would strike it against the stone to produce rocks. One day, somebody came over to him and offered him a state-of-the-art diamond cutter. The diamond-cutter was a far more expensive and luxurious item than the old rusty pickaxe the man was using, so the stranger thought for sure that the stonecutter would prefer it.
Of course, the stonecutter laughed. The diamond cutter was quite impressive, but it would not help him do his job. It was far too small and delicate to be used for cutting rocks from the surface of a mountain.
The Hafetz Haim explained that the same is true of our lives. Hashem has given us precisely the “tools” we need to do our unique job in this world. No two people have the same role to fill, and so no two people have the same financial status. If we have less than our neighbor, this is not because we are any worse than him. It is simply because we have a different job to do, and our job requires a less expensive “tool.”
This awareness can spare us so much grief and aggravation. If we understand that we have exactly what we need to have, no more and no less, then we will stop fretting over our financial limitations, and we will stop fretting over what other people can afford which we cannot. Hashem has given us exactly what we need – is this not a good enough reason to feel happy and content? Is this not a good enough reason to stop worrying about what other people have and to start enjoying what we have and using it the right way?
This might be why Hashem created the world as He did. We have financial limitations precisely to remind us that we depend on Him, that we have only what He gives us. If we were able to obtain whatever we wanted, then we would not recognize that He gives us what we have, and that it is all given to us so we can each fulfill our purpose. We have only a limited amount of money so that we realize that Hashem gives us everything what we have.
Indeed, if somebody would be offered $200,000 a year in exchange for nothing, simply as charity, or a respectable job that paid him that amount, I imagine the vast majority of people would choose the latter arrangement. People would rather work and feel they’ve rightfully earned their money than enjoy doing whatever they want and feel that everything they have was given to them for free. We want to feel the pride of earning, of achieving what we have. It is not a comfortable feeling to know that we are just the beneficiaries of somebody’s generosity. Hashem therefore gives us financial limitations so that we remember where our livelihood comes from, and realize that we did not earn it ourselves.
I recall once meeting with the owner of a local gas station – a wonderful, G-d-fearing Jew who lost a significant amount of business when another gas station opened nearby. This meeting was an inspiring lesson in emunah. The man told me that he had no complaints and no concerns. He acknowledged without any hesitation that every dollar he earns is a gift from Hashem, and that if Hashem arranged that he would now be earning less, it’s because he needs less. We could eliminate so much jealousy, so much anguish, so much frustration and so much aggravation if we learn from this gas station owner, and truly believe that Hashem always gives us precisely what we need.
Strategy 3: It All Depends on Perspective
My father used to tell me this over and over again, and I never believed him. But now I realize how accurate it is. Happiness depends not on what’s happening in a person’s life, but how he perceives what’s happening in his life.
The story is told of an elderly retiree who used to spend a large part of his day sitting outside on the front porch of his house, which was situated by the entrance of the city. One day, a visitor from a different city came and asked this elderly fellow what this city was like.
“Well,” the elderly man said, “why don’t you first tell me about your city?”
“It’s awful,” the man said with a grunt. “The weather is dreadful – it rains so often, and the temperature is either freezing cold or blisteringly hot. The people are rude, the houses are ugly, the streets are poorly maintained, the service in the stores is very poor, and wherever you go it’s crowded.”
“This city is exactly the same,” the elderly man said, shaking his head in pity.
The next day, another visitor came along, and he, too, saw the elderly resident as soon as he entered the city and asked what the city was like.
“First tell me about the city you came from,” the elderly man said.
“Oh, I love it!” the fellow enthused. “The people are so nice. The weather is beautiful. There are so many great places to shop. People there have everything they need, and the service is great. There’s always plenty of room for everybody, and the roads are maintained very well.”
“This city is exactly the same,” the elderly man said.
As it so happened, there was another man walking along the street on both days, when these conversations took place. Stunned, he turned to the elderly man and asked how he could give such contradictory descriptions of the city.
The man smiled and said, “It doesn’t depend on the city. It depends on how a person looks at it. If somebody thought the city he came from was terrible, then he will think our city is terrible, too. And if he thinks the city he came from is great, then he will think that our city is great, too.”
This is what the Mishnah means when it tells us that one is wealthy only if he is “content with his lot.” The size of one’s “lot” does not determine one’s level of happiness, and his feeling of being wealthy. It all lies in his attitude and perspective, whether he focuses on what he has and what is good about his life, or if he focuses on what he does not have and what he does not like about his life.
Let’s put it this way. Imagine the following two people. One person needs to drive the best car, to have the perfect dream home, plus the perfect vacation home, to buy the best suits, and to have the best furniture. The other guy does not really care much about all this. He doesn’t mind driving an ordinary car, living in an ordinary home, with ordinary furniture, and wearing ordinary suits. Which of these two men is happier? I think it is safe to assume that the second fellow lives a much happier and calmer life. The first fellow is constantly under pressure, never satisfied, and always anxious about keeping up with his standards. The second fellow, however, can relax and enjoy life. He views what he has as adequate, and so he does not feel the constant pressure to “upgrade” and to buy something better. Doesn’t he live a happier life than the one who always needs things to be perfect?
Two people can have the exact same life, but one is happy and content, and the other frustrated and miserable. It all depends on their outlook and perspective.
Strategy 4: Stay Focused on the Goal
Before I began working as a Rabbi and teacher, I studied in kollel for about ten years. It’s no secret that learning in kollel entails a significant financial sacrifice. Other than those in exceptional situations, kollel students are forced to live on a meager stipend, and cannot enjoy comforts and luxuries that gainfully employed people have. And yet, my peers in kollel seemed much happier and more content than many people I know with large incomes. Why would that be?
Rav Eliyahu Dessler explained that the way we achieve the ideal of שמח בחלקו, feeling content with our lot, is by focusing on our purpose, on the goal of life. A person who chooses to devote all his time to Torah and spiritual growth does not make material luxury his top priority. His priority is Torah, so once his basic needs are cared for, he feels content with his material condition. But when somebody focuses on money and materialism, viewing it as an end unto itself, rather than just the means to something loftier, then he is naturally dissatisfied and discontented all the time.
In order to feel satisfied with our lot, we need to change our priorities. We need to focus on a higher purpose for which we are here, on the mitzvot that we do and for which we were brought into this world. We need to define “success” not in terms of the amount of money in our bank account, or the size of our house, but in terms of our connection to Hashem. If we focus on loftier goals, we will find ourselves much less troubled by our financial situation, and much less interested in what other people have.
The Spies’ Mistake
In Parashat Shelah, the Torah tells the tragic story of the spies. After their excursion in Eretz Yisrael, the spices persuaded the nation that they could not enter the land, that the people who lived there were too strong, and that the land was not worth conquering anyway. In response, Hashem severely punished the people, decreeing that the entire generation would perish in the desert, and only their children would enter the Land of Israel and experience its greatness.
It has been explained that the scouts decided to discourage the people because they felt the people were not prepared for life in Eretz Yisrael. In the desert, the nation lived a miraculous existence, fed by manna and provided water from a supernatural well. In Eretz Yisrael, however, they would have to live naturally, working to sustain themselves, and the spies felt that Beneh Yisrael were not yet ready for that. They believed that Beneh Yisrael still needed the holy existence of the desert.
Their sin was so severe because they were trying to be smarter than Hashem. Hashem told Beneh Yisrael that they should enter the land and live a natural existence. The spies felt they knew better than Him what the people needed, and this is a grave mistake.
This is the kind of mistake we make every time we complain about our situation, and every time we feel we need more. If we’re not שמח בחלקו, if we are not satisfied with what we have, then we are in effect saying that Hashem has not given us the right “tools,” that He has not given us what we need to do our job. A happy life requires the faith that Hashem knows what’s best for us, and that He always gives us exactly what we need.
The Yeshivah That Took 57 Years to Build
A beautiful example of this kind of faith is a story told of the Ponevizher Rav, Rav Kahaneman, who built the Ponevizh Yeshiva in Bnei-Brak. On the day the foundations of the yeshiva were laid, Rav Kahaneman sat on the stone and cried for a long while.
The next day, he explained to his students why he cried.
“I cried,” he said, “because the foundation of this building was laid not yesterday, but 57 years ago.”
He told that 57 years earlier, he was a young boy living with two older brothers in Russia, in a state of utter destitution. Once, on a snowy, bitterly cold winter night, the family had only one jacket and one set of boots for everyone. The mother turned to the boys and asked which of them wanted to go to yeshiva the following day. Because of the weather, and because there was only a single coat and pair of boots, only one would be able to get to yeshiva the next day. All three said they wanted to go. The mother said she would do a raffle to decide which one gets to go.
The next morning, the mother came in very early in the morning to the oldest boy’s bed to wake him up.
“Come,” she said, “I am taking you to yeshiva.”
“You mean I won the raffle!” he said, excitedly.
“No,” she replied. “I won the raffle. Come with me.”
The mother put on the boots, had the child climb on her back, and covered them both with the coat. She went out the door, and trudged in the snow to bring her son to yeshiva, and then came back.
She went to the second child, and said, “Wake up, I am taking you to yeshiva.”
“You mean I won the raffle!”
“No,” she replied. “I won the raffle. Come with me.”
Once again, she had the child climb on her back, covered them both with the jacket, brought him to the yeshiva in the bitter cold and snow, and then returned home.
Finally, she went to the youngest, who would become the Ponevizher Rav, and woke him. Like to the others, she told him he was going to yeshiva, and he enthusiastically assumed that he won the raffle.
Once again, the mother said, “No, I won the raffle.” She brought him to yeshiva the way she brought the others.
As she carried him on her back, Rav Kahaneman recalled, he heard her singing about how fortunate she was, how fortunate the family was, that they had three boys learning Torah.
“At that moment,” Rav Kahaneman said, “I said to myself that I needed to build a yeshiva on her sacrifice. As I stood on that stone, I remembered my mother’s sacrifice.”
Let us imagine for a moment that none of this happened, that the Kahaneman family lived comfortably in Russia, and had boots and jackets for everyone, so that the mother that morning would have just bid her children farewell as they left to yeshiva, like all parents do. This young impressionable boy would never have learned this priceless life lesson. Who knows if he would have grown to build a Torah empire if he had not had this remarkable educational experience?
Hashem gave the Kahaneman family exactly what they needed to ensure that the Ponevezh Yeshiva would be built 57 years later.
And this is true of our lives, as well. Hashem always gives us what we need to do what we are supposed to do. We should rejoice over everything we have, without every worrying about what we don’t have. If we live this way, then we will live with genuine joy and contentment, each and every day, and will never feel the desire to exchange our life for anyone else’s.