Recently, the lectionary readings at church for the third Sunday of Lent included the Ten Commandments from Exodus. “Oh yeah, I know these already,” I thought as the reader began. I don’t usually connect to the Old Testament. I listened anyway. This time, the final commandment, “You shall not covet” (Ex 20:17), seemed to speak to me in a way it hadn’t before.

Most of the commandments are about actions, such as to keep the Sabbath or not worship false idols. Coveting is defined as “to be consumed with desire for”. Unlike these other commandments, it’s about our thoughts, about our way of being.

Initially, it’s a confusing verse because some of the examples of what we might covet, such as a neighbour’s slave, oxen or donkey, feel completely removed from my 21st-century Aotearoa life. As I thought about it, I could recognise ways I covet what I do not have or need every single day.

One way I was thinking about this is with adventures in the mountains. Tramping and climbing is my one of my favourite forms of recreation, as it is for many of my friends. It’s an excellent way to enjoy God’s creation, use our bodies and connect to others. But as with lots of aspects of life, sometimes it leads me to jealousy. I’ll hear about what friends and connections have been doing and find myself thinking: “Why haven’t I climbed that mountain?” Or, “I should have spent my weekend being part of that adventure.” Essentially, I start to think that if I did these things, my life and my self would be better, cooler somehow.

When I’m focused on what I’m missing out on, I’m not appreciating what I’m doing and who I’m with right now — I'm missing out on fully experiencing my own moments. And often the time I’m not focusing on — the time I'm spending wishing I was somewhere else — is actually more valuable than any time up a mountain: it’s time studying, or gardening, time connecting with my family or doing little jobs for others.

Coveting things that I think will make my life different and better is certainly not limited to mountain adventures. I fail to appreciate in many ways who I am, the things I have and the place I live. I think most of us do, whether it’s by wanting more money, or a different house, or some external measure of success.

The system of consumerism and advertising in our society capitalises on this very human sin, telling us we will be different and happier if we look to fulfill our wants rather than our needs.

Wanting life to be different from how it is distracts us. We become unable to fix our eyes on our callings, to be thankful for what we have and where we are, to participate in the Kindom.

I’ve been working on conveying the delight and wonder and fulfillment I feel in mountainous places, rather than seeking the coolest trip. Maybe I can keep getting better and loving who I am without desiring the life and things of someone else.

Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 291 April 2024: 26