My first car was a silver gray 1969 Chevy Nova. Like so many teens I was thrilled to have my driver’s license granted on the first try and I was equally happy to have a vehicle of any sort. Soon my peers got their “wheels”, and the comparison game took off in earnest. Bigger autos that could accommodate lots of buddies were prized, and those with parents of means rolled up in fancy foreign models, and I swear you could hear the oohs and ahhs all the way from the curb to the schoolyard. Clearly there was envy, and jealousy was overtly expressed.

In this week’s Torah portion called Va’etchanan, Moses recounts the Ten Commandments. The final one was always a topic of deep conversation and debate among the scholars. Lo tachmod–do not covet your neighbor’s house, wife, ox, or anything that belongs to him. (Deut. 5:21 and Ex: 2017) A lot of the discussion of the sages centered around the idea of a commandment prohibiting thoughts, not behavior. Naturally they resolved this perceived difficulty by maintaining that these feelings would lead to devastating decisions and regrettable actions. Interestingly, the mystics had their own meaningful way of understanding this divine directive.

They maintained that the Almighty was trying to convey a message about the importance of inner independence. Do not let someone else’s life be the measure of your own. God is teaching us that to covet erodes your self-worth, you must not believe your joy is related to anyone else’s possessions. Comparisons should not dictate your happiness. Kabbalists taught that the Creator via this Commandment was urging us to notice what is present in our lives as opposed to what is not there.

Moreover, do not covet, is meant to protect your soul from wanting to pursue a different person’s dream. It is the Lord’s permission to stop competing, but rather to focus on a life that is authentic to you. I love the way these commentators summarized this seemingly impossible and challenging last of the Ten Commandments: if you spend your life desiring another’s blessings, you will miss your own.

L’shalom,

Rabbi Jack