The Jewish Case for Minimalism

Three years ago, we moved into a lovely two bedroom apartment. I remember pulling up to the driveway with a small U-Haul full of all of our possessions and my 14 month-old son in the back seat. As we unloaded the truck, the apartment felt spacious and our things fit neatly into the cupboards and closets. 

Three years later, with the addition of another baby and another one on the way, that two bedroom apartment started feeling the opposite of spacious. Each baby brought along many gadgets, clothes, toys and knick-knacks that some days I felt like the walls were falling in on me. And on top of that all of the well meaning gifts from family, my own shopping habits (obsession?), and all the things I was saving for a rainy day; it was becoming unlivable. 

One morning, during my third trimester, my daughter was crying for me to pick her up. Even though I was already carrying a heavy load, I slung her over my hip and started picking my way across the room over the blocks, half-eaten pasta, and last week’s school projects strewn on the floor. Suddenly, I tripped over one of these things and something within me – beside the ligament in my back that I threw out – just snapped. It became crystal clear I had to change our physical environment to support the spiritual and emotional environment that I needed for my family. 

Thus my interest in minimalism began.

Around the same time, I listened to a podcast by a Jewish woman named Shira Gill about her book The Minimalista. I was taken by the clear steps she laid out to become a minimalist and the deeply intentional process of making space in our homes, and subsequently our minds. But then I paused to consider if this aligned with my Hasidic ideals. Should I be doing more spiritual things with my time than re-organizing? Should I hold onto things that might save us money in the future? Should I keep gifts and toys for the kids even if they don’t love them to show gratitude to the giver?

There is a moment in Parshas Vayishlach that further added to my question. When Yaakov journeys with his family to the Land of Israel, he stays behind when his family crosses a river on the way. The Talmud says that he went back in order to collect some small jugs. Hasidic commentators ask, why would a holy man be concerned with some small material possessions? Doesn’t he have loftier concerns? However, they answer that a righteous person knows how the material things in the world that we own, even the smallest things, have a soul connection to us. In using those items, we can elevate the physical world by revealing the G-dly potential around us. 

This seems like the opposite of minimalism! Maybe with this logic, we should keep everything we own. Maybe we have a duty to keep the items that G-d has sent our way. 

But, maybe not. Our avodas hashem, our divine mission, is dynamic. It’s in motion and in every moment of our lives it is changing. When we hold onto items that are no longer serving us, then they become like a klippah, to use a mystical term – a shell – preventing us from truly serving G-d. Think about when a fruit is ripe; the shell needs to be discarded. It has served its purpose to allow the fruit to develop and now it is just in the way of the yumminess inside. 

Looking around my house, I realized that most of the items I owned had already served their purpose. The breadmaker I relied on to make challah when I was postpartum, too tired to knead dough, was now sitting in my pantry untouched. The stacks of gift bags I kept in case we needed them were unusable after becoming part of a kid’s art project. The twelve, size 4T pull-on sweaters from my mother were collecting dust since my son decided only zip-ups would do. If I couldn’t even use most of the things I owned, then they were just getting in the way of the things I actually need! 

In her book, Shira Gill outlines five steps to embark on a minimalist journey. The first step is to look around your home and clarify its purpose. Knowing your goal helps you remove everything that is getting in its way. I wanted my home to be less cluttered (still working on that…) in order for it to feel like a sanctuary, rather than a constant project. I also wanted it to reflect my artistic, eclectic style rather than the empty, modern style usually associated with minimalism. The ultimate goal was for me to be able to be a more calm wife and mother by reducing the work involved in managing so many possessions. 

I began to use the skillfully developed methods from Shira’s book (which I recommend!) in order to pare down each area of our house to the things I absolutely love. 

I started going through one item at a time. I held it up. I looked at it. I asked myself: “Do I love this decorative object?” “Does this dress even fit me?” “Does my baby need fifteen tiny pairs of pants?” 

One item I held up was a little orange container made out of enamel with a gold trim and a snug little lid. I love this object. I bought it when I was nineteen studying abroad in the south of Spain from a street vendor. I love the color of it, the material, its cute size, and the memories it inspires. 

As I worked through each room in my house, I thought, ‘Why do I love those things? What draws me so strongly to a particular West Elm coffee mug or a shimmery skirt or my handmade wooden tzedakah box? Or even a little pair of striped yellow pants – dirty knee area aside – that all of my kids have worn?’

My neshama, my soul, is telling me that serving G-d is not only a spiritual concept. It is a very physical concept. The pull I feel towards certain things – my style, design choices, even the food I buy at the store – these are all directions for me to bring G-dliness into my little corner of the world.  

The emotional component of how we relate to the stuff we buy and own is not secondary. It is primary. That emotional reaction shows me the things I need to hold onto and the things I should let go. 

When we hold on to sentimental items that are not serving us any more, this is a sign that our emotions are erring on the side of negativity. Then we need to draw upon our intellect to assess why we are holding onto things and whether it is for a good reason. Shira outlines a few reasons in her book and the one that spoke to me the most was sunk cost. I often think, “but I spent so much money on this!” 

Minimalism isn’t just about having fewer things. It is also about being intentional about what you do buy. It helps you invest your money more carefully into items of quality. This is a concept found in one of the Rebbe’s teachings. In a talk in 1960, the Rebbe mentioned a comment of the Previous Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, that compares Chassidic teachings to pearls found deep in the sea and coal buried deep in the earth. The analogy is that Chassidic teachings are like coal that gives warmth and light when one digs deep to acquire them. But, then the Rebbe asks, why didn’t the Previous Rebbe address the benefit of pearls, which do not provide light. In fact, they seem superfluous. In our day we would call them a luxury item.  

The Rebbe says that you can live a nice life without pearls, but only if you stay in a place where pearls are not needed. However, if you were to be invited into the innermost chamber of the King of Kings and sit close by His side, then clearly it would be inappropriate to dress like a pauper.  If you are going to stand right next to the king, right by his side, you better be decked out! (Ok, the Rebbe didn’t phrase it like that exactly, but I think it gets the point across.)  

We are in a time when redemption is just around the corner. We are like a bride about to be married. You can no longer say, ‘Oh, I’m fine with just a little, I don’t need anything nice or extra’. No! The Rebbe says, “You are about to stand under the chuppah with G-d… Dress yourself beautifully, and that will honor Him.” 

  This is true on a spiritual level, in which our “soul clothing,” – our thought, speech, and action – should be polished and radiant. But, it is also true on a literal level. Whereas in the past, we had to do our best to just survive, aka acquire coal for warmth, we now live in a time when we have to use the very best of what the world has to offer. All to honor G-d.

When I think carefully about what I buy, instead of going after sales and cheap items from Amazon (which I still do from time to time), then this minimalist mindset frees up my budget to be able to sit next to the King in the fanciest clothes. Instead of buying twenty cheap necklaces, I can save up for a string of pearls (or the equivalent that matches my own style). 

I have found a sense of clarity in relating to the things I own through a spiritual lens. We live in a time of abundance when, with the click of a button, anything we want can show up overnight to our doorstep. In our busy world, companies want to fill up our homes, and minds, with stuff, stuff, and more stuff.  We must remember that, as Jews, our job is to elevate the material world. We cannot run away from it. We must use it, critically and carefully. As Shira says to use it in an edited manner in order to let our true values shine through. 

This is my case for a Jewish minimalism.