Holy shame doesn’t hold us back. It holds us up

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few weeks ago, one of my talmidim mentioned in class that he wouldn’t be going to sleepaway camp this summer. He said it casually: “My parents have a whole shitah against camps, so I’m just doing day trips.”

I know his parents well. I’ve sat with them through several meetings. There is no shitah here — no philosophy, no carefully planned stance. Just strain. They simply can’t afford camp this year, and they didn’t want their son to feel insecure.

And we can all feel the dilemma they’re facing. Do you tell your child the truth — we can’t swing it — and risk making him feel different from his friends? Do you create a “family value” to soften the blow? Or do you stretch, borrow, fundraise, patch together something — just so your child doesn’t feel left out?

What should guide our financial decisions: our children’s comfort, or the reality of our limits?

And what role does shame play in that choice?

Interestingly, Chazal present us with what seems like a fundamental contradiction at the heart of shame.

On one hand, the Gemara (Yevamos 79a) teaches that bushah — a natural sense of shame — is one of the three core traits that define a Jew. Shame, clearly, is a virtue, an expression of refinement.

On the other hand, the Gemara (Beitzah 25b) praises us for being azim — bold, audacious, strong-willed — and teaches that the Torah was given to us because of that trait.

So which are we meant to be? Baishanim — or azei panim?

The Maharal explains that the contradiction disappears once we recognize that each trait comes in two very different forms.

There is shame that weakens — shame that makes a person afraid to stand apart, afraid to say no, afraid to live differently. That is insecurity, not virtue. And there is shame that strengthens — the inner dignity that refuses to act beneath the stature of a Jew. That is the holy bushah that defines us.

Similarly, there is azus that destroys — brazenness, arrogance, a shameless disregard for limits. And there is azus that elevates — the courage to push back against pressure, to stand firm in one’s principles, to live with integrity even when it’s unpopular.

A Jew needs both: the azus to live differently from the world around us, and the bushah to keep us from slipping below our true spiritual dignity.

And nowhere today is the confusion between these traits more visible — or more damaging — than in the financial decisions families are making. Because so often, the spending we see is not driven by genuine want or real need.

It is driven by the wrong kind of shame. The shame that is insecurity.

“We Can’t Afford It”?

Many parents today face enormous pressure to spend money unnecessarily — whether it’s on name-brand clothing, deluxe summer vacations, lavish simchahs, or high-end cars. Too many families feel compelled to spend beyond their means simply to ensure that they — and their children — appear “with-it.”

Without realizing it, they send a dangerous message: that projecting an image is more important than living with stability. And the result? Families are literally going into excruciating debt for the sake of appearance.

Slowly but surely, though, a new movement is rising to reshape the way our community approaches these pressures. And there are two parts to the remedy.

Part 1: Make It Socially Acceptable

Under the guidance of rabbanim such as Rav Eliezer Gewirtzman and others, there is a conscious effort to make it socially acceptable, even admirable, for a parent to be honest with his family and say, with calm strength: “Right now, making this purchase is too expensive for us — and that’s okay. We have what we need and our value system doesn’t necessitate more.”

When it becomes socially acceptable to acknowledge financial limits, the shame evaporates. What once felt embarrassing becomes normal, responsible, and even dignified. And look at what this shift accomplishes:

You protect your family from drowning in debt. You avoid the misery and pressure that come from spending money you don’t have on purchases you don’t actually need.

You teach your family real values. You send a powerful message that we prioritize meaning, not trivial purchases. The middah we learned for years in Mesillas Yesharim and Chovos Halevavos — histapkus, living with simplicity — finally becomes real, lived chinuch. Instead of succumbing to the negative kind of shame — the insecurity that pushes families to the brink — you neutralize the shame entirely by making honesty normal.

You model financial responsibility for your children. When children grow up in a home where limits are spoken about with dignity, they internalize those limits. They learn to make wise, thoughtful financial decisions for their own futures.

Part 2: Convenience vs. Show

The second part of the remedy to this culture of debt and unhealthy financial decision-making falls on the families who are successful. They have a responsibility, too — to help dismantle the pressure that is crushing so many others. So what are we saying? If a family is blessed with wealth, should they not build a spacious home? Should they avoid buying a reliable car or using their resources to make life easier? Of course not.

As I once heard in the name of Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky ztz”l, there is a world of difference between spending for convenience and spending for show. Convenience means the expense genuinely improves life — more space for a growing family, a dependable vehicle, first-class flights to save time and energy. If a person can afford these things, there is nothing wrong with using the gifts Hashem gave him.

Show, however, is different. Show is when the main purpose of the purchase is not comfort but impression. A lavish exterior on a home, an unnecessary luxury upgrade, a simchah designed to turn heads — these are expenditures meant to broadcast status. Comfortable living is fine; flaunting wealth is not. Wealth entitles a person to comfort. It does not entitle him to create a culture of comparison.

So if a person of means is planning a simchah and pauses to ask himself, Is this expense for true convenience, or is it simply to turn heads? and he realizes the answer is the latter, and he chooses not to spend, he has just made a decision that meaningfully benefits his entire community. In that moment, he has helped relieve the very pressure that is driving this crisis.

And how do we persuade the wealthy to scale back extravagant spending?

Perhaps it is time to make simplicity socially admired — to turn it into a brand. Imagine if those who are well-to-do chose to celebrate simchahs with more simple, basic expenditures. And imagine if the community openly expressed respect and appreciation for that choice. Imagine if that became the “in” style. Very quickly, the paradigm would shift: the simple event would be seen as more admirable than the extravagant one. By collectively honoring and uplifting those who choose simplicity, we can reshape our communal values and restore healthy norms.

Because flaunting wealth is not only unwise — in galus, it can even be dangerous.

The Kli Yakar makes a striking observation on the pasuk “Penu lachem tzafonah — Turn yourselves northward” (Devarim 2:3). The word tzafonah can mean “hidden.” If Hashem blesses a Jew with wealth, the Kli Yakar says, he should keep it discreet.

We live among the descendants of Eisav, in the Exile of Edom. Eisav has never forgotten that Yaakov received the brachos he believed were his. Flaunting wealth not only provokes comparison — it awakens resentment.

Use wealth wisely. Wear it quietly.

Chazal never asked us to be ashamed of simplicity. They asked us to be ashamed of pretending.

We need the azus to live differently from the world around us, and the bushah not to live beneath our own values.

Holy shame doesn’t hold us back. It holds us up.

Rabbi Aryeh Kerzner is the rav of Agudas Yisrael of Montreal and a noted posek and popular speaker. Many of his shiurim and speeches are available online. He is the author of the sefer Halachah at Home, published by ArtScroll/Mesorah.  

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1094)