The Thread of Happiness

I stood fixated by the beautiful architecture of the modern-day mansion before me. My eyes greedily surveyed the opulent curves of its large archways; its intricate brickwork, numerous rooms and terraces. The lavish garden surrounding the house, features  beautiful custom made benches and chairs on a spacious lawn. All around are a wide variety of rare looking flowers and trees – everything is perfectly arranged. A magnificent brick wall, iron gate and tree-lined fence surrounds the property.
 
Tucked away at the far end of an old charedi neighborhood, the mansion  conspicuously dwarfs the old apartments that surround it. It's size and opulence appear almost obscene in that context.
 
Nevertheless, I like to walk there at night. It is a quiet and pleasant place to think and pray. Tonight, more than ever before, I was drawn to the sheer beauty of the balconies and the huge chandelier which was visible through the window. A gentle breeze carried a delicious fragrance of flower blossoms through the tall fence to where I stood on the street. I was starting to lose myself. A wish to enjoy and possess this house was pulling me away from my prayers.
 
The power of imagine took hold of me – I entered another 'world' but not a good one. Suddenly I was walkingthrough the rooms of my mansion, rubbing my hand along my expensive furnishings, admiring my artwork. And, at last, even taking my place at the head of a long table before hundreds of illustrious guests. I was about to deliver an important message when, thank G-d, I woke up.
 
'Master of the Universe, what's going on here!? I came outside to speak to You, and I'm stealing my neighbors house?'
 
The truth is I wouldn't know what to do with his house. It would be nothing but headaches for me to own it. Who has the time to think about all the details of decorating such a house and maintaining it in style? What would I do when items need replacing? Where will I ever find replacements for those fancy faucets and toilet seats? Nothing is a standard size. If I was the owner, the mansion would lose its majesty. It wouldn't be long before many items would need fixing and the garden would look neglected.
 
After praying in synagogue, Torah learning, personal prayer and spreading my Rebbe's teachings – how much time would be left for me to replace those weird looking bulbs overlooking my private ballroom or that cracked tile in the front hallway? If I stay where I live now, a cracked tile adds character to the old building; but in a mansion? ze past nisht! (it's really in poor taste!). It's a full-time job to own such a house.
 
Some of the most profoundly depressed people that I've treated as a psychotherapist were fabulously wealthy. Not only did their riches not help them, but their anxiety and depression was exacerbated by their wealth.
 
One of my patients was worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He used to pick up the phone and give away a million dollars on the spot to a good cause. I used to travel to his mansion because he was too frightened and depressed to ever leave it. Once my patient gave a million dollars to big Jewish organization that helps very sick children. They made a dinner to honor him but he couldn't leave the house.  He wouldn't even go outside to pray in the synagogue. He was taking a ton of medication but nothing helped him. When I last saw him, his wife was ready for a divorce and he was still hiding from the world in that gorgeous palace of his.
 
Another one of my wealthy patients developed a mixed anxiety and depressive reaction to the sound of his own doorbell. He would go into a panic and become depressed when people rang the door bell or called him on the phone begging for charity. His life was made miserable by his money because he was constantly frightened that others would deplete him of his riches and he would die poor and homeless.
 
The Talmud says: 'the more possessions, the more worries.' The desire for money is lethal. It is well known that there is more suicide amongst the wealthy class than the poor. On the other hand, people who are happy with their lot derive more pleasure from their simple possessions than a wealthy person gets from all his luxury. This was true of the Heavenly bread, the manna, that fell for forty years when the Jews were wandering in the wilderness. To those people who believed in more than physicality, the manna tasted like the finest culinary delights. For the skeptics and complainers it was just plain bread.
 
It's no secret that the poor are happier and less spoiled than the rich. Since nobody is giving them handouts, they turn to Hashem for everything and instill, through their example, this precious attitude to their children. Poor parents work harder to invest love and warmth in their children – bribing the children with luxuries is not an option for them.
 
A person who accepts that Hashem will certainly give him exactly what he needs at the right time can weather hundreds of problems – such a person has more faith in Hashem than the Federal Reserve.
 
Coming back to myself, I turned away from the mansion and noticed my tzitzith (four cornered garment with tassels) blowing in the breeze.
 
That's when I realized:
 
In the long run, what good will a Rolls Royce, a Bentley or mansion like this do for me? Sooner or later all that stuff will fall apart. 'When this mansion falls apart,' I thought, 'they'll probably use the lot to build apartment buildings.'
 
Compared to my tzitzith, a simple $35 garment – all the wealth in the world is worthless. Question: Can a trillion dollars earn a person an eternal life of fulfillment and happiness? Answer: No, but the tzitzith can. The tzitzith remind a man that he can rule over his passions with discipline and self-control – these are the only keys to human happiness.
 
Just as my eyes and my heart were enticing me to pursue pleasure, beauty and physical things, Hashem's tzitzith came and reminded me of the great and never-ending joy awaiting me in the world-to-come. What can be worth more than that?