Our Gemara on Amud Aleph references a social and psychological principle that a person is reluctant to appear excessively wealthy. This has halakhic implications, as it may lead a person on his deathbed to declare fictional debts in front of others in order to give the impression of having fewer assets, even though he does not actually owe them. As a safeguard, halakha requires specific language that clearly directs the debt to be paid, rather than a mere declaration of its existence.

This kind of modesty is an ethical principle in Torah thought. The Torah Temimah (Bereishis 42:1) traces this idea to Yaakov’s instructions to his family to avoid appearing too healthy and strong during the famine (see Rashi ibid. and Taanis 10b).

The ethos of downplaying wealth is a sensitivity that has largely been lost in our contemporary culture. I recall from my childhood a number of extraordinarily wealthy individuals who lived side by side with us in our modest attached homes. Despite their simple homes and furnishings, it became evident over time that they were well-off, revealed through subtle cues like owning vacation homes in Eretz Yisrael, frequent trips there, and enjoying an early retirement lifestyle. Yet, these signs of wealth were understated. This restraint may sometimes have been more about the lingering effects of Holocaust trauma—fears that “the goyim will be jealous,” anxieties about theft, or concerns over Ayin Hara (the evil eye). Nevertheless, this old-world modesty reflected a way of life that younger generations may no longer recognize.

Today, if a person is financially successful, there is typically far less effort to conceal it. But this shift is not necessarily a reflection of deteriorating character. Broader economic changes have contributed to it. The overall increase in wealth has made certain luxuries more accessible and less conspicuous. Economic realities also play a role; for instance, it may be more practical to lease a new car or replace an appliance than to repair an old one. As a result, the ethos of simple living has become more difficult to maintain and, in some cases, socially awkward. Driving a ten-year-old car may now seem as peculiar as an eccentric relative who reuses disposable cutlery or covers their living room furniture in plastic.

Middos (ethical traits) are subject to changing social norms and historical contexts; they are not absolute. The Magid Mishna (Laws of Neighbors 14:5) notes that ethical conduct must be attuned to time and place. As such, the fulfillment of the trait of financial modesty will look different in different eras. At the same time, it is worth reflecting on the enduring value of tempering the display of wealth. Even in a world where luxuries have become ordinary, there remains merit in striving for moderation—a balance that is neither extreme nor neurotic, but thoughtful and wise.