The ancient rabbis certainly did. They saw it playing out in the story of the Israelites in the desert, a story brimming with lessons for us today.

Our jumping-off point is Psalm 106, and the Rabbis in Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, dig deep into a particular verse that speaks of envy towards Moses. “And they envied Moses in the camp..." But what exactly were they envious of?

Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai offers a fascinating interpretation. He suggests that the people were envious because they felt Moses was being replaced, perhaps even usurped! He points out that the Israelites were counted in the wilderness instead of Moses. Imagine that! And even more, Dathan, a known troublemaker, was appointed in Moses' place, and Abiram in Aaron's. Midrash Tehillim quotes scripture stating, "It is a leadership position," implying that these appointments fueled resentment.

Think about it: feeling overlooked, sidelined, replaced… it’s a potent recipe for envy.

And what was the consequence of this envy? Catastrophe. "The earth opened up," the Midrash tells us, "and swallowed Dathan, and covered the assembly of Abiram." A stark reminder of the destructive power of unchecked jealousy and resentment.

But the story doesn't end there. The Midrash then shifts to another infamous episode: the Golden Calf. "They made a golden calf in Horeb," it says, reminding us of that ultimate act of betrayal against God.

Rabbi Meir even calls it the "calf of anger" (though the Hebrew term is not provided in the original text). That’s a pretty evocative image, isn't it? An idol forged not just from gold, but from simmering rage and disillusionment.

Rabbi Shimon offers a counterpoint. He says that at Horeb, the Israelites both accused and were acquitted. What a strange idea! He bases this on the verse, "And the children of Israel stripped themselves of their ornaments." In other words, they sinned terribly, yes, but they also showed remorse, a willingness to shed their material attachments and return to God.

The Midrash continues, "And they exchanged their glory for the likeness of an ox." But what kind of ox? This is where it gets really interesting.

Rabbi Papayas suggests it was the image of the "celestial ox." Now, this celestial ox is a figure from Jewish mystical tradition, a powerful, cosmic being. But Rabbi Akiba, a towering figure of Jewish law, cuts him off rather abruptly. “Enough, Papayas!” he exclaims. "Is it not written, 'He eats grass?'"

Rabbi Akiba's point is sharp: if the celestial ox eats grass, how can it be a perfect, untainted divine image? Surely it would have horns and hoofs! He brings the mystical speculation crashing down to earth with a simple, almost humorous, observation.

So, what are we left with? A whirlwind of envy, rebellion, repentance, and rabbinic debate. The Israelites, blinded by envy and frustration, traded their divine connection for a flawed, earthly imitation. The rabbis, in turn, grappled with the meaning of it all, offering interpretations that range from the mystical to the grounded.

Perhaps the enduring message is this: Envy, like a crack in the foundation, can lead to the collapse of everything. And while we might stumble and fall, as the Israelites did, the possibility of repentance, of stripping away our own “ornaments” and returning to what truly matters, always remains.