GEN1272 Jacob, like his grandfather Abraham and son Joseph, also doesn’t stay at home. Yet he may well be the greatest biblical exemplar of histapkut (contentedness).  A fugitive, he sets out on the perilous journey to Haran with a prayer requesting God to guard him in his travels and give him just “bread to eat and a garment to wear” [this verse]. After Jacob finally gets to his uncle’s home, the wily Laban defrauds him out of his chosen bride after seven years labor and tricks him into marrying Leah. Jacob must serve another seven years to wed her sister, his beloved Rachel Genesis 29 – 30.   Only once does he complain about this to Laban. He accepts the inevitable and gets past it, glorying in what he finally acquires. Other biblical authors offer a similar philosophy.  Proverbs tells us: ”A contented heart makes a cheerful countenance” 15:13 and adds: “Better a little with the fear of the Lord then great wealth and much trouble: 15:16.  Ecclesiastes chimes in: “Better is a handful of gratification than two fistfuls which come from unworthy work” 4:6.  There has been no lack of Jewish teachers reiterating this theme.   Ben Zoma gave the classic Talmudic epitome in his rhetorical “Q & A”: “Who is rich? One who is happy with what he has” Avot 4:1. The 11th-century Spanish poet-philosopher Solomon ibn Gabiol said: “Who seeks more than he needs, hinders himself from enjoying what he has. Seek what you need and give up what you need not. For in giving up what you don’t need, you’ll learn what you really do need” Mivhar Hapenimim 155, 161. Two centuries later, Yehiel b. Yekutiel   added a touch of realism to the instruction without changing the ideal: “True contentment is found only among those saintly souls who were satisfied with little, just as most people are content only with a lot” Sefer Maalot Hamiddot.”  About one hundred years ago Judah Steinberg, an early Hebrew litteratuer, poetically wrote: “If there is no light from the sun, then let the light of the moon delight your eye” Mishle Yehoshua [Proverbs of Joshua]. This was also the time that our seriously impoverished Yiddish-speaking ancestors wryly commented, “With only one pair of feet, you can’t dance at two weddings, and with one behind you can’t ride two horses.” They knew they didn’t have much, but they sensed: “Even a temporary satisfaction is worth cherishing,” or, putting it negatively, “It’s better to lose your hat than your head.” But surely the most famous defense of appreciating what one has is this of-told folk story: “Once a poor Hasid became so distraught because of the crowding in his hovel that he appealed to his Rebbe, ‘We have so many people living with us that we can’t turn around in the house.’  The Rebbe counseled the man to first move his goat, then his chickens, and finally even his cow into the house. He returned, half crazed, to the Rebbe. ‘It’s the end of the world,’ cried the man. The Rebbe responded, ‘Now go home, turn out the goat, chickens and cow, and report to me tomorrow.’ The following day the Hasid showed up beaming. ‘Rebbe! My hut seems like a palace now!’” Browne, the Wisdom of Israel.  BOROJMV 163-5