My Readers Are High Status And Rich

Against Aspirational Materialism

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Yes, You Are

The high-status, wealthy subscribers of this Substack don't click for trivial fashion tips, financial advice, or something to be outraged about. You are sophisticated, intelligent, discerning humans who appreciate real substance. Good for you! Over here, we are pretentious only about our fear of G-d.¹

I Tried Materialism, And It Didn't Work

Confession: I was tempted into materialism this past Sunday. My friend and I (and our respective one-year-old babies) drove to New York to do our Passover shopping and eat out.² My husband did not have to worry. I wasn't going to buy the $700 ergonomic chair that might definitely going to fix my posture. It wouldn't fit into my car, anyway.

I did buy the artisanal avocado toast on sourdough at Hava Java, which was definitely going to make me feel cooler, healthier, and more put together. But did all this make me feel fresher, healthier, and picture-perfect? (No. I am exhausted.)

What Is Materialism?

Materialism isn’t as obviously shallow as it looks from afar. It’s about the belief that you can buy a superior life… for a price (which is always measured in money).

The illusion of materialism looks like solving all your problems with more money:

• Feeling socially awkward? New jewelry will make you more confident!

• A luxury vacation will erase all your stress (even if you’re traveling with children!)³⁴

• A carefully curated video of your parenting will impress people so much that they’ll ask you to teach classes.⁵

But then there’s something even more deceptive and dangerous than regular materialism…

Aspirational Materialism: The More Sophisticated Trap

I worry a lot more about aspirational materialism than plain, shallow, self-limiting materialism. At least when someone buys a designer purse, they admit they just want a fancy purse. You can only use one purse at a time. You can only eat one meal at a time.

Besides, I don’t read secular newspapers or magazines, only religious ones. I’ve noticed that in newspapers that cater to a religious crowd, they tend to avoid straight up, overt materialism. They’re not going to outright say, “Buy this car, and you’ll achieve spiritual success.” They won’t even say, "Buy this car, and you'll be considered a top family in the community.”

Instead, the aspirational materialism I observe is more subtle—it implicitly suggests that dressing your children a certain way, having a more prestigious job, or making fancier meals will somehow make you a more admirable, put-together person. You know what I mean. “Buy this car, and you'll be calm during carpool, able to do everyone favors, and feel respectable”.

(And personally? I really do want to be a more admirable, put-together person! If only a car could accomplish that!)

Aspirational materialism convinces us that the right purchases won’t just make us happy—they’ll make us better, more enviable versions of ourselves. This attitude leads to compulsive shopping.

But What’s Wrong With Optimizing Life and Comfort?

If you’re not sinning, who cares?

That’s where Naval B'reshus HaTorah comes in.

Naval B'reshus HaTorah: A Scoundrel Within the Letter of the Law

In Jewish thought, there’s a concept called naval b'reshus haTorah—describing someone who very meticulously follows the letter of the law but completely misses its spirit.

Imagine how the naval b'reshus haTorah learns Torah:

He enters his specially designated “Torah Sanctuary,” where the bookshelves are lined with beautiful, leather-bound volumes in classic colors, each with a tiny brass plaque displaying the name of the bookbinder (and its resale value—so guests can admire his “investments”).

There is only one chair and table, with space only for him—and a small dais.

Once seated with his book, he begins studying with performative flair, pausing occasionally to murmur, “Brilliant” or “Such insight” (while subtly checking to see if anyone is listening).

What is he doing wrong?

This concept of naval b'reshus haTorah reminds us that a life led by materialism—even within the bounds of religious observance—can still lead to moral and spiritual decline. This kind of person can carefully check all the boxes—praying, giving charity, keeping kosher—but still be consumed with wealth and status. They may not breaking any rules, but they’re missing the point. Nachmanides teaches that being holy isn’t about doing the bare minimum and calling it a day; it’s about rising above and beyond basic observance.

True holiness means keeping our indulgences in check—even the “permissible” ones—before they start running the show.

A real G-d-fearing life demands more than just ticking off boxes; it calls for mindfulness, restraint, and knowing when to ask,

"Yes, this is technically kosher, but is it really my aspiration?"

Why It’s So Hard to Avoid Today

Everywhere you look—from billboards to social media feeds—there’s a message that you’re not enough until you buy, upgrade, or become better than others. This ongoing comparison game steals your natural happiness.

Let’s be honest—no one’s posting selfies of themselves making dumb mistakes, arguing over who’s taking out the garbage, or feeling too exhausted to socialize.

And no one can know about the personal connections that bring real joy—the quiet moments of kindness, the shared laughter, the simple presence of those we love. The joy of giving, of doing one's duty. These are the moments that fill life with meaning.

We’re all rich, even if we don’t feel it. Years ago, people lived in filth and wished for clean water. Now advertisers take clean water for granted. Their bottle of water is marketed as a transformative liquid possibly taken from the well of Miriam⁶ which guarantees energy and health in a climate-friendly bottle.

I want to feel grateful for my sink water every day. Even if I also want the Impossible Burgers.

What About You?

What do you think about aspirational materialism? Do you agree with my thoughts on it? Have you been disappointed with a purchase? Please comment!

1. This is a little off topic, so I'm going to put it in a footnote. I like to be a little condescending to people who eat healthy things like acai, muesli, and impossible burgers —but only very subtly, of course, since impossible burgers from Pure Cold Press in Boston are what manna would taste like to me.

2. We went to a store called Bingo, which is like Costco, but for kosher food.

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6. The Well of Miriam (Be’er Miriam) was a miraculous water source that accompanied the Jews in the desert during their 40 years of wandering. It is associated with Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron, and is said to have provided water in her merit.

According to tradition, the waters of Miriam’s well had healing properties. Later Jewish legends suggest that the well did not disappear entirely but was hidden, with some believing it resurfaced in the Sea of Galilee, where its waters still carry healing power.

Ironically, my friend's name is Miriam and she's a doctor.