It is natural to feel that the more we have, the happier we will be. But the truth is that it doesn’t always work that way. In fact, many times, getting more than we really need can create new and difficult challenges. This week’s Torah portion (32:15) warns the Jewish people to be careful when things get better for them and not to let it go to their heads so they end up with less instead of more.

In our story, a couple of kids discover that sometimes more is less and less is more.

Paradise Lost

Mr. Goodman shook the real estate broker’s hand, and with a big smile, turned to his family, who were standing like soldiers in front of the nearby-parked minivan. “Well, it’s official guys—welcome to our new home!”

The Goodman twins just couldn’t believe it. After living all their lives in a crowded two-bedroom condominium, they were really going to be moving into this big, beautiful palace of a house that stood before them. Why, the backyard alone was nearly the size of the whole condo play area, and their father was even talking about putting in a swimming pool!

But the best part of the whole thing, both boys agreed, was that they were finally, for the first time in their lives, going to each have their own rooms. No more having to squeeze into one bedroom, no more bunk beds. No more having to step over each other to get to their stuff. It was going to be paradise!

After spending one last night together in the same room, (with their parents too, at the local Day’s Inn motel, since all their furniture was already packed into the moving van), the boys settled in to their new private rooms, and their crowded condo days began to fade into a distant dream.

But the dream soon began to turn into a nightmare. The problems began the second night there, when Jamie snuggled up into his comfy new single bed, turning in early after a long and exciting day. He was just drifting off when he felt his room begin to shake. He tried pulling his pillow over his ear to block out the noise of blasting music, but it didn’t help. Annoyed, he dragged himself out of bed.

It took Stevie a while to realize that the banging on his door wasn’t just part of the beat of the loud tunes he was cranking as he comfortably sat back, feet up, on his own single bed. Finally, he got up to investigate, and found his brother in pajamas, red-faced, standing in front of his door.

“Hey, Stevie, turn it down, man! I’m trying to sleep. You know the rules, only headphones after nine o’clock.”

“You’ve got it wrong, buddy,” retorted Stevie. “Those used to be the rules. Now we’ve got our own rooms, and I can listen to music as loud and as late as I want.” He slammed the door, and Jamie had no choice but to go back to his room and try to make the best of it.

Early the next morning, the scene repeated itself, but this time the sound blast was coming from the other side of the hall. Stevie looked at his clock and couldn’t believe it. He groggily pulled himself out of bed and marched across the hall. What could Jamie be thinking of, blasting music so early? But he just got his own words from the night before thrown back in his face, together with a slammed door.

One thing led to another, and soon the two brothers, who had always managed to get along pretty well, found themselves at war. They each dug themselves into their own “territory,” put locks on their doors, and mean-looking signs warning each other to keep out, “or else.” Whereas once they used to freely share between them, now every possession was jealously guarded, lest it fall into “enemy hands.”

Things went from bad to worse when their dad hit them with the news that because his new office was being renovated, he would have to work at home for a week, and the only place he could set up his temporary office was in one of their bedrooms, which meant they would have to go back to sharing a room in the meantime.

The twins groaned. True, they had shared a room before, but that was back when they were friends. Now they were at war and it would be a disaster. But with no choice, the boys grudgingly moved into one room, and prepared for the worst. After all, if they couldn’t get along in two rooms, how could they ever survive in one?

Things were tense at first, but then a funny thing happened. Maybe because they were used to living together for so long, or maybe because without their private territory to retreat to, they had no choice but to get along, and things began to get better between them. First they started talking, then even laughing. Within a few days they were playing and sharing just like the good old days.

After a week, when their father’s renovations were complete, he showed up with a mover to clear his stuff out, and let the boys know they could move back into separate rooms. As he walked out the boys looked at each other.

“That’s great news, huh Stevie?” said Jamie unenthusiastically.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” answered his brother flatly.

That evening when their dad got home, he went upstairs to call the boys for dinner. Opening one of the bedroom doors, he was surprised to see it as empty as it had been when he moved out that morning. He went to the other room, and found the boys still packed in together, playing and laughing. “Hey, what’s up guys?” he asked.

Jamie looked at Stevie and Stevie back at Jamie, until he finally spoke up. “Well, Dad, I know it sounds funny, but if you don’t mind, we like it better this way. For us, two rooms weren’t enough room, and one room is just right.”

Instead of getting mad, their father smiled, and said, “I’m proud of your decision, boys, and that you’ve realized that just because you live in a big house, you don’t have to have a big head.”

Nesanel Yoel Safran is a writer, chef and a teacher/student of Jewish spirituality. He blends these assorted vocations on his blog, Soul Foodie, where you can join him on mystical cooking adventures and glean practical wisdom for the kitchen—and for living. https://soulfoodiecom.wordpress.com/