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A: Chatati, Chatati*, I am guilty of the sin of imprecise generalities. Irv, you are
quite correct in pointing out that material wealth, per se, is
not considered necessarily evil in most mainstream Jewish thought.
What I intended to say by "materialism and competition" is more
accurately termed "excessive" or "exclusive" materialism- you
know, the kind of rat race, "keeping up with the Cohens," focus
on wealth, "making it," and conspicuous consumption that can sometimes
leave no room for values like generosity, humility, volunteering
one's time to help the needy, and so on.
This clarification just begs another question: so what IS the
right balance between wealth and generosity? What does Judaism
teach about "how much is enough?"
There are several interesting statements about this problem in
the section of the Mishna called Pirke Avot, the Sayings of the
Ancestors- Judaism's original self-help advice book! For example,
even way back when the teachings of the Mishna were being collected,
around 100-200 C.E., there was a recognition that material possessions
don't necessarily bring happiness: "Hillel taught: . . . more
possessions, more worries. . . !" This is a basic fact for many
people: expensive possessions can cause people to worry about
them- nobody cares if a beat up '86 Honda Civic wagon (like the
one I drove for 10 years) gets scratched and dirty, but if a new
BMW gets dented, that's a disaster!
A comment from the midrashic books (Kohelet Rabbah) picks up on
this theme by stating that a person only achieves half of their
desires in this lifetime. Nachum Amsel, the author of The Jewish Encylopedia of Moral and Ethical Issues, insightfully explains that this refers to the common phenomenon
of always wanting more- if you have a $100, you'd be happy with
$400, but if you had $500, you'd think satisfaction would come
at $1000, and so on, up into the realm of millions. Twice yearly,
Judaism reminds us that happiness comes from freedom and a relationship
with the Holy: on Pesach, we spend a week eating the "bread of
affliction," and on Sukkot, we spend a week living in an open
hut, outside our comfy heated houses, as an experience of letting
God be our true shelter.
Furthermore, of course, helping others with one's wealth is a
primary value in Judaism- whether it is giving money to charity,
inviting guests in for Shabbat or other occasions, donating clothes
or food to those in need, or spending time with the sick or bereaved
(which, after all, takes time that could be used for making money)-
these things are paramount virtues. So why shouldn't one spend
ALL one's time and money doing good?
Well, at first glance there are some sources which seem to suggest
that one should. For example, returning to Pirke Avot, in Chapter
6, the life of a Torah scholar is described as consisting of eating
a bit of bread with salt, sleeping on the ground, and generally
living a poor and humble life totally devoted to study and good
deeds. Yet the text also says that the table of a Torah scholar
is greater than the table of a king, and a Torah scholar has true
happiness. Perhaps this is because, as the text says earlier in
chapter 4:1, the truly happy person is content with their portion.
I don't think this means that everybody is commanded to sleep
on the ground and give up everything to study and perform mitzvot
all day- in fact, Maimonides explicitly states that Torah study
should be combined with honest labour. (Misnah Torah, Laws of
Torah Study 3:10) Rather, I think these texts are trying to get
us to think long and hard about where true happiness and satisfaction
comes from; it's not so much that one MUST sleep on the ground
and eat bread with salt to study Torah (i.e., live a life exclusively
devoted to holy purposes) but rather that one must be prepared
to see what the truly important goals in life are, and not be
distracted by the unimportant things (like expensive designer
pillowcases).
The same point is made is a different way by the idea that money
spent on tzedaka, on righteous causes, is "permanently" in one's
credit ledger in a way that other money isn't- there's a story
that the wealthy banker Rothschild pointed out in an accounting
book all the donations he had made to worthy causes, and proudly
proclaimed that property values rise and fall but these (donations)
could never be taken away or lose their value.
So all of this adds up, as Judaism so often does, to keeping a
balance. Yes, Abraham had a lot of camels, but he's famous to
us as a man of faith, whose tent was always open to the stranger
in need. Yes, Rashi was a businessman and winemaker- but that's
just a footnote to his greatness. Yes, it's wonderful to have
a beautiful house- but a home that flows on the joys and rhythms
of the Jewish calendar is better. Wealth is neither good nor bad,
inherently, but the temptation to acquire more of it can lead
people to evil, as is common knowledge, and yet a wealthy person
who recognizes that with money comes great responsibility to share
it wisely is considered meritorious and honorable.
Therefore, I would reframe the question "how much is enough,"
to be, "when does enough become too much?" It's too much when
it distracts one from Torah, from prayer, from humility, from
reverence, from ethical living, from honoring and caring for others,
and from acts of generosity and justice. Until then, if a person
can be wealthy and reverent and ethical and good, classic Jewish
sources seems to think it's OK to get rich.
NJL
*Chet= sin, or missing the mark. Chatati literally means "I have
sinned," and could be part of a ritual confession of mistakes
and misdeeds.
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