Beneath the Bottom Line

Beyond bills, budgets, and back accounts, the rabbanim see a problem that cuts to the heart of the core values of our community, and threatens its very foundations.

On the empirical level, the pressure to overspend poses profound risk of dramatic, practical repercussions to the family and individual. “Putting aside the ruchniyus aspects of this materialism, let’s talk Olam Hazeh,” says Rabbi Eliezer Gewirtzman, a rav in Lakewood’s Coventry Square neighborhood. “People are spending money they don’t have in the hope of buying happiness, and all they are getting is misery.” The stress of making the grade tears fissures in homes, families, and marriages.

But far more worrisome are broad, unseen shifts occurring in the consciousness of our community as a whole. Rabbi A. points out that the desperate need to live a wealthy lifestyle is triggering a miscalibration of our internal barometers. “It’s causing a dramatic change in what our young generation aspires to be,” warns the rav. “The fundamental understanding of what defines a successful person has changed on the deepest level. While the pinnacle of achievement, the role model for all our youth, was and should be the quintessential talmid chacham, it now includes material wealth.”

The rav deals intimately with hundreds and hundreds of bochurim on a daily basis. “Today, normative bochurim from mainstream frum homes view a 30-to 35-year-old making $250,000 a year while being kovea itim l’Torah for several hours a day, raising a family and living an erliche life… as an abject failure.”

“For some people, it’s not ‘enough’ to be a talmid chacham, which is the pinnacle of our community,” agrees Rabbi Shraga Malinowitz, rav of Khal Sheorim b’Tefillah in Jackson, New Jersey, and founder of Toraso B’umnaso. “Now, they want Torah u’gedulah, Torah greatness along with material wealth.”

It’s a seismic shift in thinking. “It’s shaking the very foundations of our way of life,” Rabbi A. warns.

Flush with Crash

The underlying issue isn’t a lack of income. In many cases, it’s quite the opposite. “Part of it started when it became more common for people to make a lot of money,” says Rabbi Malinowitz. “It’s become quite common for someone to quickly move from poverty to wealth, without the slow, hard work that used to be necessary.”

“The standards keep rising — there’s no end to the mishugas people will come up with,” explains Rabbi Gewirtzman. “You keep putting hot air in the balloon and it goes higher and higher. Florida used to be a fancy midwinter vacation, but you can’t do that anymore. Now you have to go to Puerto Rico, Cancun, or the Dominican Republic.”

He describes a pervasive pressure to “portray a certain image,” even for those who cannot afford it. And he points out that this isn’t about simple indulgence; it’s a perceived necessity. “People say, ‘all my friends are going to Eretz Yisrael for Succos, what choice do I have? Even if I can’t afford to rent an apartment in Shaarei Chesed and all the attendant expenses, I have to do it.’ ”

The result is people spending vast sums not out of joy, but out of a desperate need to stay relevant. This pressure is not limited to a minority of people. “Except for the few guys who are living very well, everybody else is bleeding to death,” says Rabbi A.

Rabbi Gewirtzman was the first to publicly blow the whistle on the issue. A private shiur he gave to a group of women in Coventry on the topic several years ago quickly went viral, and has been heard by over 100,000 people. “It’s not because of my speaking style,” he says wryly, “but because well more than half of the tzibbur are suffering.” The mega-wealthy don’t necessarily suffer from their spending, and there certainly exist many frum families who are very disciplined and intentional in maintaining a simpler lifestyle, but he gauges the issue as affecting well more than half the local frum population.

Rabbi Malinowitz, who counsels people both in his shul and in the workplace through his office chavrusa program, sees it daily. “It’s very, very, very common,” he says. “Every day people tell me that it’s impossible to meet today’s standards because of the tremendous pressure.”

He notes that even those making what would have been considered an excellent living a few years ago are struggling to keep their heads above water. The goalposts haven’t just moved; they’re at full gallop, and the community is in a constant state of pursuit.

Bleeding to Debt

What’s causing the average family to emulate a lifestyle that’s completely beyond their means? The cycle of expansion can be broken down to the actions of three distinct groups: the wealthy, the wannabe, and the trapped.

A small number of objectively wealthy people engage in a high level of living. For example, there’s Moish, who takes his extended family to Europe for Yom Tov every year. He’s making a nice living, but feels pressured to do something “stand-out” for each event. His current solution is to rent a luxury villa estate for the entire Yom Tov, fly in a private chef to cook all the meals, and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on high-end food.

Just the meat order this year topped $30,000. And it’s not your average brisket. Last year, he had the manager set aside thousands of dollars of veal for him. For this year… he had to stand out again, and ordered squabs. These bite-sized baby pigeons are a specialty item; at $65 each, he took a hundred.

While they question the necessity or healthiness of the extreme spending, many rabbanim don’t fault the true gvirim for living on a higher level of affluence; their spending is not fiscally irresponsible for their means, and they are very generous when it comes to tzedakah and klal responsibilities. “It’s fair to say that they deserve to indulge a little bit,” Rabbi Gewirtzman says. “You can’t expect them to live as if they were earning a basic salary.” Rabbi A. does note that many have lost control.

The disconnect is when the gvir lifestyle is erroneously portrayed as normal for a regular person.

That’s where the second group, the wannabes, come in. Hoping to appear in the same league as the wealthy, they ape the opulence they’re seeing, and create a false public presumption of a new “standard.” This is where the danger lies. These wannabes’ unwise choice to spend beyond their means does not end with them. Not only do they suffer the consequences of their own excesses; they commonize the wealthy standard of living, establishing it as the new normal.

Through overspending, they make it widespread enough to force the largest group — the “trapped” — to meet the newly established “normal,” even though hardly anyone can actually afford it. The cycle repeats itself, pushing standards to levels in which one has to spend $25,000 on a vach-nacht and $40,000 on kiddush; upgrade to custom suits and get all the kids new shoes four times a year — just to avoid living in the schlepper doghouse.

“It’s a phantom level of prosperity that very few can actually afford, but so many feel pressured to chase,” Rabbi A. explains. Like a balloon that keeps inflating, people are finding their wallets stretched ever thinner — and feel they’re about to burst. “There’s a tze’akah ad haShamayim, a cry reaching the heavens,” he reports. “The tzibbur is screaming for help. This is by far the biggest issue facing Klal Yisrael today.”

The rabbanim emphasize that the majority of people are not suffering from a self-inflicted lack of maturity, fiscal irresponsibility, or spoiled habits. They are legitimately under tremendous pressure to match what appears to be normative in their peer group.

“There’s no question that everyone is affected by their environment,” says Rabbi Malinowitz. “These things are not assur, and it takes tremendous strength to stand up to the pressure of one’s community and forego fitting in.”

Take Mordy, who splurged on new luxury amenities for his business in Brooklyn. His friends in the industry told him it was worthwhile to invest in the appearance of being really “geribben.” It would drive up business, they said, establish him as a “real player,” and enhance his workers’ productivity and loyalty. But now he can’t make payroll, and this keeps him up at night.

As a community that prioritizes the success and happiness of our children above our own peace of mind, we face tremendous pressure to make sure our children fit in. Even a parent who possesses discipline regarding their own expenditures will crumble when it comes to their children. “It’s human nature for parents to want to make sure their children fit in,” says Rabbi Gewirtzman, “and kids are especially conscious of their image. In many cases, if a person would ask his rav about a purchase, he may indeed be told that it is justified — because your children can’t be left behind.”

Gvir in the Headlights

Several trends have converged to create this breaking point.

“There were a lot of people who made money coming out of Covid,” Rabbi Gewirtzman notes. “The government was printing money, real estate kept going up. Your average guy was suddenly able to buy a building with no money down and flip it for a large profit.” The sudden, dramatic inflation spikes ratcheted up expenses even more.

Rabbi Malinowitz adds that wealth is no longer reserved for the few families that build generational affluence, but is often “easy come, easy go” money — fueling a fiscal culture that approves quick spending, even for clear excesses. “There’s no question that there is far more available wealth than ever before. I sit with people all the time that are making $300,000 to $400,000. That was unheard of a few years ago.”

But even for those who don’t quite have the means, it’s become easier to procure money — or at least credit — and pay anyway. There was a time when if you didn’t have it, you couldn’t spend it. Today people can leverage a lot of money — whether through credit cards, mortgages, refinancing, gemachim, or simple finagling — that will come back to haunt them much later. “Historically, people understood that a gvir was a gvir, and everyone else couldn’t spend what they don’t have,” Rabbi Gewirtzman says. They didn’t strive to be or maintain appearances of being something they weren’t. Today, it’s very different.”

Is the frum community particularly vulnerable to extremes in social spending? Rabbi Gewirtzman points out a unique feature of the frum community in which people are not classed or socially structured by their income. “Because of our demographic, we all have to live together,” Rabbi Gewirtzman explains. Unlike secular society, in which peer groups and neighborhoods are often stratified by economic class, in the frum community, the millionaire balabos and the cheder rebbe live on the same block and sit next to each other in shul. While admirable in its own right, this causes the lifestyle of the very wealthy to become a visible standard for others. “We all take our standards of living from our neighbors,” he says.

Rabbi Malinowitz offers a positive perspective, defending even the middle group who are chasing the appearance of wealth. He frames the issue as a misdirection of an innate craving to excel. Jews, he explains, are a mamleches Kohanim, a priestly kingdom, imbued with a desire to stand out and make a difference. That energy is meant to be channeled into spiritual growth. “When someone does not become a leader in ruchniyus, he looks to make an impact, to be perceived as special, in other ways. When a person is not focusing on their growth in spirituality… it can end up being growth in everything.”

“Yidden have big neshamos,” Rabbi A. agrees. “We are bnei melachim, we have a big taavos for ruchniyus — which can end up as big taavos for gashmiyus.”

Culture Change

What can be done to ease the pain and pressure? As a public problem, it will require a public shift. “We need to start the conversation, to raise public awareness,” says Rabbi A. “Let’s get people talking about it around the Shabbos table. That is the first step toward changing the culture.”

About 30 years ago, a coalition of rabbanim signed a series of takanos aimed at reining in wedding spending. The rules themselves ultimately faded, but the underlying priority — raising awareness and sparking a reconsideration of the culture — was successful, Rabbi Gewirtzman points out. Takanah wedding packages have been widely instituted and accepted in frum areas, as a respected and feasible option for many. “These takanah weddings today cost about the same as weddings did back then,” he says, “despite the sharp inflation across the board.”

Similarly, a public discussion might puncture the illusory balloon of “but everyone can afford this.”

“If people would realize that eighteen kids out of a class of twenty-five are dealing with the same sh’eilah, there wouldn’t be that kind of pressure,” Rabbi Gewirtzman adds. “It gives people a reason to say no, something to hang their hat on.”

Rabbi Gewirtzman hopes people will begin to put more thought into their spending decisions. Even smaller, seemingly minor expenditures contribute to the crushing total. “The Mesillas Yesharim teaches us that one of the biggest tools of the yetzer hara is to get people not to think,” he explains, “because when people think, they tend to do the right thing.”

“I’m not against iced coffees  — I’m not an extremist — but an iced coffee every day adds up to another thousand dollars a year,” Rabbi A. advises. “Constant eating out, and girls going to coffee shops with friends, and a son in Eretz Yisrael living the high life… these things pile up to five, ten, fifteen thousand that can make the difference at the end of the year.”

Fight the Splurge

Beyond the public sphere, what can the individual do? Right now, each person can contribute by throttling back on their purchases just a little bit. Every decision to not buy, to buy simpler, or to resist the drive to conform — within the range of acceptability — is a win and helps change the overall narrative.

Those blessed with real wealth have the opportunity to make an appreciable dent, too. Rabbi A. relates that a well-off man asked what he could do to help. “Just downgrade your car one notch,” he answered. “That will allow everyone else to drive something normal, instead of high-end.” That suggestion is not about punishing the wealthy, he clarifies, but about asking them to lead by example and give breathing space to everyone else.

That’s the path taken by Yisroel Schwartz. When he was ready to build his dream home, he wanted to do it right. He had plans drawn up for an enormous, 7,000 square-foot mansion in Toms River. Just before going ahead, he consulted with his rav.

After extensive conversations with daas Torah, he came to understand that the blueprints were for a home three times the size he actually needed, and his intentions were less about functionality than something more insidious. Although he could well afford it, he decided to recalibrate and build on a much smaller scope.

“I’ve never looked back,” he says. “It’s clear to me as I get older and watch houses going up around me, that I spared myself unimaginable heartache this way. I wouldn’t have been any happier in a bigger home, and I’m grateful for my menuchas hanefesh.”

Rabbi Malinowitz encourages people to find innate sources of validation, without having to resort to overspending to feel worthy. “Talk to your mentors and take a really good look in the mirror,” he says. “Do some introspection on your value as a person, how much good you do in the world, and how much you give. If we would realize how meaningful and fabulous our lives are, we would feel good without having to keep up with the Schwartzes.”

Rabbi Gewirtzman emphasizes the need for every couple to take a look at their finances and evaluate how much of their spending is necessary, and how much is discretionary. “I think if people would realize how much of their spending is unnecessary, they would be in for a tremendous jolt.”

He is confident that people can easily identify what outlays are discretionary. Despite the pressure to conform and the “but everyone does it” refrain, they will likely realize, upon reflection, if a purchase is a want or a need — whether it’s small things, like eating out often, or larger purchases, like an $80,000 car or home renovation that’s more about status and style than functionality.

“The most important thing is to get hadrachah before making important financial decisions,” Rabbi Malinowitz emphasizes. He acknowledges the difficulty in knowing where to draw the line. “It’s a very dangerous thing to decide not to send your kid to camp because you can’t afford it, but sometimes it is necessary. You have to get hadrachah. Make sure you have a rav or rebbi — in addition, you can have someone independent who you trust, who cares about you enough to tell you the honest truth.”

Existential Threat

Rabbi A. drives home a powerful message, outlining the stakes in this battle in sharp, historical terms, calling it “an existential threat to our way of life.” He stresses that the most fundamental aspect of Yiddishkeit is that a Jew lives for spiritual pursuits and accomplishments, while ideally limiting his involvement in gashmiyus to that which will empower his avodas Hashem. While the yetzer hara can trip us into wrong decisions, throughout our history we never faltered in that clear hashkafic delineation, at least in principle.

But all that is now at risk. “This understanding is what carried us through two thousand years of galus: the Inquisition, the Crusades, Tach v’Tat, and the Holocaust,” he says. “It is the platform on which Yiddishkeit stands: We live for Olam Haba. Those lines have now been crossed. We are pulling the rug out from under our feet… sending a message to our kids and to ourselves that Olam Hazeh is the ikar.”

If we don’t figure out how to solve this, we risk losing our very identity. —

I can’t believe I spent

$400

on fresh flowers for my son’s upsherin, but that seems to be the standard (though it’s also standard to have gemachs “shadchaning” flowers to consecutive simchas, so I guess that’s a good thing?)

I can’t believe I spent

$185

on a platter of chicken fingers. That’s like $5 a piece, what are they, breaded in gold? But what can I do — I don’t have time to cook for a whole event

I can’t believe I spent

$125

on a not-best-friend after she gave birth — $75 for supper and $50 for a stretchie

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1092)