The Wealth of Wanting Less: Sukkot’s Ancient Answer to Modern-Day Joy

A few months ago, I quit a stressful job that was not serving my professional needs or my desire to help out others with data and analysis. I put the vast majority of my possessions in a storage unit. I went to go visit a friend out West I had not seen for six years. We were able to catch up and create new memories. I then went to Peru for a month and now I find myself in Buenos Aires celebrating the Jewish holidays. I have spent the past few months living out of nothing but a duffel bag and a backpack. It is as minimalist as I could be without living on the street. Yes, I have learned a number of life lessons since I quit my job. One of the most resonating lessons is how few possessions I actually need. I am not a particularly materialistic person. I mostly own books, clothes, and dishes. I do not even own a car. This nomadic experience helped me realize that less is more. So what does this have to do with the Jewish harvest festival of Sukkot? 

The Sukkah as a Teaching Device

The world is unstable, unfair, unpredictable, and filled with things or people that can cause harm.  Humans have a propensity to control because we think it will bring us security. I am not an exception because relinquishing a need to control at such a level is part of my teshuvah process this High Holidays season. We accumulate because we think it makes us happy or it provides a sense of security.  The sukkah, which is the temporary dwelling during Sukkot, challenges that concept. During Sukkot, Jews leave their secure homes for a flimsy sukkah that is open to the sky and exposed to the elements of Mother Nature. This holiday is called "a time of our joy." We are meant to find joy in having less, not more. 

Material Excess Causes Problems

This claim that material excess causes problems is going to make some heads spin. We are bombarded with advertisements that hammer the idea in our heads that happiness is buying a bunch of material possessions. Unless we have the latest iPhone, car, or article of clothing, advertising does its darnedest to condition that we are not enough. It lends itself to social comparison, making us feel inadequate or that others are better off. What societal conditioning teaches us is that buying more can ward off that comparison or not feeling like enough. It teaches that joy has to be bought or earned in order to be experienced. 

While it is tantalizing, Jewish tradition teaches us "the more possessions, the more worry" (Pirke Avot 2:7). This one could use some explanation. There is a Midrash that teaches that if you put 50 plagues on one side and poverty on the other, poverty outweighs them all. There is something to be said about having one's basic needs covered, such as food, clothing, and shelter. Once you surmount poverty, then it gets trickier. 

Yes, money is a means to fulfill certain dreams. I would not be able to travel around Latin America if I did not have money. One study shows that while more money improves life evaluation (which is how people think about their life), emotional well-being levels off at around the $75,000 figure in 2010 dollars (Kahneman and Deaton, 2010), which would be about $111,000 in 2025 dollars. In other words, money does not make your day-to-day emotions significantly better once your basic needs are met. 

On the other hand, there is a reason why the U.S. Declaration of Independence says we should have "life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness," and not happiness itself. Science shows that there is a negative correlation between materialism and well-being (e.g., Li, 2025; Teng et al., 2022; Górnik-Durose, 2019), whether that is lower life satisfaction, higher anxiety, or increased depression. As one accumulates more possessions, one has to guard and protect them due to fear of loss (Bartenura, commentary on Pirkei Avot 2:7). This sort of fear, anxiety, and attachment to material possessions can erode spiritual life (Maharal). 

Social comparison also reduces happiness and well-being because it breeds envy, lowers self-esteem, and creates a sense of scarcity (e.g., Liao, 2021; Liu and Wang, 2016; Hagerty, 2000). There is also the classic study comparing lottery winners to paralyzed accident victims (Brickman et al., 1978) in which the respective events affect happiness, but eventually hedonic adaptation kicks in and what used to feel like "enough" becomes the new norm. In Ecclesiastes (2:10-11), King Solomon acquired mass wealth and still called it a vanity because of this hedonic adaptation. 

Modern-day science affirms the Jewish assertion that abundance of material wealth and focusing on that material wealth bring anxiety, clutter, and the pressure to maintain an image. 

What Works Instead of Materialism

If buying a bunch of stuff is not the answer, then what is the key to happiness? Remember that bit about "more possessions, more worry"? The second half of that portion in Pirke Avot 2:7 provides an antidote: "If one has acquired Torah, one is increased in wisdom; if one has acquired a good friend, one is increased in good; if one has acquired a good neighbor, one is increased in peace." You do not have to be Jewish to understand this concept. It is about improving one's wisdom, one's sense of ethics, and improving interpersonal relationships, or in short, the intangibles. This concept lines up with studies showing that experiences typically provide stronger more lasting happiness than material wealth (Kumar et al., 2020; Weidman and Dunn, 2016; Van Boven and Gilovich, 2003).

Pirke Avot gives us another antidote (4:1): "Who is rich? One who rejoices in their lot." Richness is not about wanting more of what you do not have. It is in part wanting less, but more importantly it is about accepting and appreciating what you do have. Rabbeinu Yonah's commentary suggests that one could have a multitude of material possessions but never feel satisfied. This is not to say that rich people are unhappy, but that material possessions do not guarantee happiness. To quote Ecclesiastes 5:9, "He who loves silver will not be happy with silver." 

This is not a piece saying that all material possessions are bad, that money is evil, or that the only way to be happy is to live with bare bone essentials. It is about shifting one's perception of wealth from what one has (or does not have) to defining it by one's capacity to appreciate what one does have. It means saying "more would be nice, but it is not a prerequisite for joy." It means being satisfied with your lot, not someone else's. Sukkot invites us into that mindset each year: to step away from a false sense of permanence and into simplicity. It helps us rediscover how little we actually need to feel whole. 

Traveling with merely a duffle bag and a backpack, I have not had so few material possessions on hand during my adult life. Yet I have a sense of personal and spiritual fullness that I have not felt in years. It does not mean that I will donate all my possessions when I get back to the United States and go all minimalist. It means that I measure wealth differently and that I appreciate the non-tangibles a lot more, whether that is a meaningful conversation, helping out others or a good, long laugh with a friend. That sort of richness does not fade or break. Perhaps that is the truest form of joy out there.