Whenever my birthday rolls around, my daughter Lilah has a habit of asking me what I want for a gift. My wife Stephanie asks me the same thing. To their disappointment, my answer has been simple, I have everything that I need.
I suppose I could say that I want a new set of golf clubs, a new bike, maybe even a boat…. if they were being generous. But I have golf clubs, a bike, and I really don’t need the hassle of a boat. But more importantly, I have a sense of simply not wanting.
“לא אחסר- I lack for nothing,” says the Psalmist (Psalm 23:1). And I feel this too. The Jewish spiritual practice of Mussar labels this sentiment a virtue called “Histapkut.” You might recognize this word; it comes from the root: ס–פ–ק. It means “enough.” It’s related to the commonly used Hebrew word “maspik.” If someone fills your glass with wine, when they pour to the point you’d like, you’d say “maspik,” enough. Histapkut, which is a reflexive form of this word, means to find enough in your life.
On a recent morning bike ride with a friend named David, he shared with me that in moving toward retirement, he gave back a major chunk of the shares of his company to his younger partners, significantly more so than he was expected to. There was nothing financially in it for him. When I asked him why, he shared with me that “I have enough.” Of course, it might seem like a rather noble act, but it was more an act of developing enoughness in his own life than it was giving to others.
The way to find enough, is not the same as seeking out more. Those who constantly strive for more will never find satisfaction; rather, they will perpetually crave a bit more wealth, a touch more extravagance, or a few more possessions, and will never truly find contentment in what they already possess.
Can you appreciate that which is simple? "Adonai is my Shepherd, I lack nothing,” says the Psalmist. Well, what is it that the Psalmist does have? The simple repose of being out in the beauty of green pastures and still waters. When we train ourselves to lack nothing more, we gain a great deal.
In singing the song Dayeinu on Passover, we are singing about this very virtue of being content with the simple. We cry out the refrain over and over again: Dayeinu, it’s enough for us. God if you had given us this blessing, it would have been enough. If you had just given us that blessing, it would have been enough— dayeinu! We can use this word as a mantra for exercising histapkut. Sit, close your eyes, think of what you have, and say dayeinu!
Have you ever felt this sense of having everything that you need? It generally happens when we remove the distractions and find ourselves in a barren place. Of course, this suggests an interesting paradox. That is, the more that we give up, and the more stuff we remove from our surroundings, the more we feel a sense of lacking nothing.
It was in eleventh-century Spain that the Jewish poet-philosopher and rabbi Shlomo ibn Gabirol wrote: “Seek what you need and give up what you do not need. For in giving up what you do not need, you will learn what you really do need.” Do you really need that avocado pitter from amazon, how about a strawberry huller? Of desire, the Talmud says, “Satisfy it, and it becomes ravenous; starve it, and it becomes satiated.” Become happy with what you have. Say “dayeinu,” I have enough. “Who is rich” asks the rabbinic sage Ben Zoma, “one who is content with what they already have.” Those who endlessly crave will not even enjoy what they already have. It’s not that you need nothing more, it’s that you have everything that you actually need.