The Blessing of Enough

By Rabbi Scneider | Parshah Naso: Numbers 4:21-7:89

Earlier this week, we stood once again at Sinai. Shavuot brought us back to that sacred moment when our ancestors received the Torah, a gift that continues to guide our lives with wisdom and meaning.

The Ten Commandments are among the most famous teachings of Torah — big, bold statements about how to live: Honor your parents. Keep Shabbat. Don’t steal. Don’t murder. Don’t lie. These commandments shape how we behave in the world, how we treat others and how we connect with God.

But one commandment stands out. One speaks not about what we do, but about what we feel. The tenth commandment: Lo tachmod — do not covet. Don’t be jealous of what your neighbor has.

It’s striking, isn’t it? Judaism is usually more concerned with action than emotion. We’re not judged by our thoughts, we’re judged by how we live. So why, in this list of ten foundational laws, do we find a rule about desire? About inner feelings?

I believe the Torah is telling us something profound: jealousy, if left unchecked, can unravel our lives. We might think it’s just a feeling, but it doesn’t stay contained. Jealousy becomes resentment. Resentment becomes bitterness. And bitterness breaks relationships.

You don’t have to look far to see it. In the very first Torah stories, envy leads to tragedy. Cain envies Abel and kills him. Sarah envies Hagar. Jacob tricks Esau. Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery, fueled by jealousy.

It’s a pattern. Jealousy isolates us, breaks families apart and darkens the heart.

But then we get a different picture. In this week’s Torah portion, Naso, something beautiful happens. The Israelites are ready to dedicate the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary they will carry through the wilderness. And in that moment, each tribe brings a gift.

And what do they bring?

Exactly the same thing.

No more, no less.

Now, let’s be honest, this could have gone another way. It could have turned into a competition: “Our tribe brought more! Our gift is better!” But that didn’t happen. Somehow, the tribes worked together. They coordinated. They avoided envy. They chose unity.

 And because of that, the dedication of the Mishkan became a moment of peace and joy, not ego and rivalry. Everyone gave. Everyone shared. Everyone celebrated.

Friends, we live in a culture that constantly pushes us to compare. Social media, advertising, even casual conversations can make us feel like we’re not measuring up. Someone else is always more successful. More put-together. More admired. More something.

And in that environment, jealousy becomes almost a reflex.

But Torah calls us to something higher. Pirkei Avot asks, “Who is rich?” and answers: “The one who is happy with what they have.” (4:1)

That doesn’t mean we stop striving. We should want to grow spiritually, ethically, emotionally. But we don’t need to grow by beating others. We grow by learning from others. By being inspired, not envious.

It’s been wisely said: When it comes to material things, look down to see how much we have. And when it comes to character and wisdom, look up to see how much we can still become.

That’s the message of Lo tachmod. Not just “don’t be jealous,” but be grateful. Be content. Be whole. The Torah doesn’t want us to suffer from the ache of “not enough.” It wants us to know the blessing of “enough.”

So may we let go of comparison.

May we learn to celebrate what others have, without feeling diminished ourselves.

May we be rich, not in things, but in gratitude.

And may we bring our gifts to each other and our community, not to compete, but to continue to build something holy together.