Do we strive for a good life or a life that is good?

Voices of faith is an occasional series in which leaders of different religious communities offer their perspective on topical questions. Q: What are the elements of a good life? Rabbi Avi Weinstein, head of Jewish studies, Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy, Overland Park, Kan.: Everyone knows that money cannot buy happiness, or at least they know how to parrot this well-worn aphorism, but the perceived lack of wealth is certainly a source of misery for many. The latest wisdom states that once one’s basic needs are accounted for, accumulated wealth will not make one much happier. A good life is one that is rich in the intangibles.

The Rabbinic tractate “Values of our ancestors,” written in the second or third century, laid out the essence of a good life in one succinct phrase: “Who is considered wealthy? One who is happy with what he has.” To be at peace with one’s circumstances is to know the meaning of a good life, but does that mean that a good life is within reach, and it’s merely a problem in attitude? Not necessarily.

Being materially satisfied is a good yardstick for material joy, but once one has become satisfied and is not restless for more acquisitions, the seeking of a rich inner life, as well as one of service to others, creates the recipe for not only a good life, but a life that is good. Rich relationships, a giving heart and a growing generous spirit make for a life of joy.

The question remains, though, whether this quest for inner peace is a luxury when surrounded by so much suffering and injustice. It might be that a good life is a luxury we can ill afford during these trying times. The Rev. Holly Mckissick, pastor, Peace Christian Church in Kansas City, Mo., and Overland Park: “By our fruits (and worms) we are known.”

I love Boston. The Freedom Trail. The Boston Marathon. Fenway Park. My favourite spot is the community garden where Dean tends his little patch of earth. It was spring when I visited. He was dreaming of asparagus, peppers, kale, all helped along by his secret ingredient: earthworms. He brought some that day in a recycled bucket.

He came by the worms honestly – he grew them in his basement; buckets and buckets full.

And more, their house was filled with fair trade coffee and crafts.

One entire bedroom was a clothes closet filled with coats and mittens for new immigrants.

Underneath all of the clutter was Dean, a missionary kid who had left the evangelical, fundamentalist faith of his childhood and held fast to the simple words: love your neighbour as yourself.

His life bore the unmistakable marks of faith.

He loved others, without regard to boundary. He shared everything with everyone – every song, every shirt, every green bean. His eyes twinkled when he spoke. His laugh was rich and full. His voice was simultaneously prophetic and humble. His hands – whether working the dirt, strumming a guitar or signing a petition – were always open.

Joyful. Forgiving. Honest. Hopeful. Generous.

The fruits of an organic, sustaining faith – by the bushel and bucketful.