In recent years, I’ve noticed two parallel trends that are hard to ignore, and I can’t help but feel a sense of unease as these developments unfold. One trend involves frum baalebatim—individuals who have been incredibly successful in business—who seem to be engaged in an ongoing race to outdo each other with displays of luxury. Whether it’s the increasing use of helicopters for short trips or private jets for longer hauls, this competition for status and wealth is becoming more and more extravagant. What was once an occasional luxury has now become a routine for some, elevating the already feverish competition among the “one percent” of the Jewish community.

Simultaneously, I have also been following the emerging space race among secular billionaires. It’s fascinating, albeit alarming, to see the lengths to which some of these individuals will go in their pursuit of being the first to accomplish something beyond Earth. We’ve watched them compete to fly higher, farther, and longer, with some even taking it to the extreme by doing spacewalks – as seen this past Friday, when a Jewish, albeit secular, billionaire made history. Every milestone in this secular space race seems to spur another billionaire to top it, turning what used to be the final frontier into a playground for the ultra-wealthy.

Now, these two phenomena—one happening in our own community, the other in the broader secular world—seem, on the surface, completely unrelated. But I can’t help but wonder if they are, in fact, on a collision course.

In the frum world, there’s already a kind of “arms race” in terms of how people display their wealth, and it has crept into many aspects of our lives. Helicopters, once reserved for emergency situations, are now becoming the go-to for baalebatim looking to make an impression, even if it’s just for a quick trip to the airport. Private jets are no longer viewed as indulgent; they’re almost expected for those in certain circles. What’s next? Could we see frum billionaires setting their sights even higher—literally?

I fear that it’s only a matter of time before the drive to one-up each other takes a turn toward the realm of space travel. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the near future, we see a headline announcing that a frum billionaire has taken his private space flight—perhaps even putting on tefillin while floating in zero gravity. As absurd as this sounds, it doesn’t seem far-fetched given the current trajectory of luxury and the increasing integration of yiddishkeit into high-profile events that have nothing to do with yiddishkeit.

But why stop there? The space race is all about breaking barriers and going where no one has gone before. Could the next “achievement” be spending a Shabbos in space? Picture it: a billionaire boasting about hosting the first Shabbos seudah beyond Earth, posting pictures of kiddush aboard a space station. Of course, some will ridiculously argue that such achievements are a massive kiddush Hashem. It’s not.

The secular billionaire space race, while fascinating from a technological standpoint, is ultimately a reflection of how disconnected some have become from the everyday concerns of humanity. These individuals, with their vast wealth, are no longer content with what they have achieved on Earth. Now they must reach for the stars. But at what cost? The resources spent on these space ventures could be used to address real problems—hunger, poverty, education—yet they’re being funneled into a vanity project that benefits only the ultra-rich. Is this truly a race we want to emulate?

The rise of luxury transportation within the frum community, too, is troubling. What does it say about our values when status symbols like private jets and helicopters are becoming normalized? Our mesorah teaches us the importance of modesty, of not flaunting wealth, and of focusing on tzedakah and helping others. Yet the competition among baalebatim for who can display more wealth seems to be moving us in the opposite direction.

I urge those in positions of influence—our rabbanim, our role models, and even the wealthy themselves—to consider the message we are sending. Are we raising the bar for mitzvos and chesed, or are we raising the stakes in a race for materialism? What are we truly teaching the next generation when the trappings of luxury and competition for status take precedence over values like humility, charity, and genuine yiras shamayim?

Before we find ourselves reading headlines about tefillin in space or Shabbos on a spaceship, let’s take a moment to reflect on where we’re headed. The choices we make today—whether in how we spend our money or how we perform our mitzvos—have long-lasting effects.

Signed,

E.L.

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