Packing, Purging, and Priorities

Before the move comes the pack.

In our suburban Teaneck existence (and in our pre-Teaneck stops) we have managed to collect a lot of things – clothing, kids’ toys, books, kitchen utensils, you name it.

And yet, our apartment in Jerusalem will be about half the size of our Teaneck house. And on our trip to Israel, we will be bringing only a single-digit number of suitcases for our six travelers. (I can’t disclose the specific number of suitcases, which is currently a matter of fierce negotiation.)

So we need to figure out what we really need, boil down what we are taking to our essential possessions, and live life with a more limited set of worldly effects. I have great confidence that we will survive this drawdown of resources.

I have found that the experience of sorting our possessions, figuring out what to take, what to store, and what to throw out (to make room for our tenants next year) has been very enlightening, in several different ways.

First, and most importantly, you figure out that you actually need a lot less than you have. Somehow, American consumer culture, combined with the suburban lifestyle and affordances, has led to a culture of accumulation. Another pair of shoes, another toy for a kid’s birthday, a nice bowl or mixer, another sefer or recent best-seller – there is a constant stream of new things that accompanies everyday life. And for most of us, certainly those not inspired by Marie Kondo (and even she has backtracked), it is difficult to part with our items.

I know I have been that way. My accumulative yetzer (not necessarily a yetzer hara, just a yetzer, in the sense of a desire which could be used for good or evil) primarily relates to books and articles, both Torah and historical. For decades I have been collecting sefarim and books relating to Jewish history, and once I had access to a regular printer I began printing and scanning articles as well.

In terms of sefarim and books, I think there are significant values to the accumulation, alongside the drawbacks. Having books available on one’s shelf to learn/read or for reference is valuable in a pragmatic sense; having the proverbial sefarim shrank (bookshelf) sets a tone of Torah in the house; and studies show that children in houses with more books generally have stronger literacy and educational outcomes. (We will gladly pass on those benefits to our renters since they are willing to put up with our book-lined shelves!) So for sefarim and books it was not a purge but a prioritization: shifting around the shelves, removing duplicates, and attempting to generally organize.

But for the papers I decided to go with a full-on purge. I have a collection of papers going back about fifteen years, including five moves, across multiple academic institutions. And over the course of time, as I have come to do more of my reading on the computer screen than on paper (which certainly has drawbacks, but is my reality), these papers have sat, neglected. And since the function of these papers is ostensibly for me, if I am not using them, at some point it becomes irrational to store boxes upon boxes of papers in our garage.

And so the purge began. I ran through dozens of boxes, hundreds of folders, thousands upon thousands of pages, throwing out (or putting in shemos – see the picture!) things that I either will not use or can easily access online, and keeping things that are not accessible or have unique personal or sentimental value. Unexpectedly, as someone who had resisted such a process for over a decade, I was fairly successful in my endeavor, whittling down about 90% of my papers and making them far more manageable. (I aspire to being more effective in this process in the future, and maybe even in getting all my papers into digital form, but only time will tell.)

Somewhat surprisingly, I found the process of going through and culling these files very meaningful. They brought back memories of different aspects of my life over the past fifteen years: Notes and syllabi from shiurim and classes I took, as well as handouts for shiurim and courses I have given. Various institutions I have been associated with, programs I have participated in, and jobs I have held over the years. Seeing my research and writing projects at various stages of planning, outlining, drafting, and completion. And in some cases I was even able to find remnants of personal communication and physical traces of relationships I have had over the years. One cannot actually capture a decade and a half of one’s life with boxes of papers, but going through them gave me flashbacks and reminders of these stages of my life. The process was both moving and refreshing at the same time – it offered a sense of closure on the past, and a simultaneous freedom to move forward.

Overall, my main takeaway from the pack-and-purge process is that we probably have too much stuff for our own good, and it is worth taking the time every so often to cull what we have. Moreover, it is the very process of going through the old things, even while throwing them out, that is actually what enables us to enjoy them again. At times, we must examine, sort, and relinquish our possessions in order to understand what they meant.

As Tehillim 49:18 tells us, at the end of our lives, we do not take with us our physical possessions or wealth; our goal is to use what possessions we have to live our lives in the proper way. And Israel in any event is known more for its spirituality than its physical comforts (even if those have been steadily improving in recent years), making this purge particularly timely as we begin to transition to a new country and reality.

So, with our bags hopefully packed by the time you read this, away we go!