On How We Live Our Lives
It seems to me that one of the most interesting things about human beings is that we begin to think particularly deeply about the meaning of life precisely when something goes wrong. As long as everything is peaceful, we have work, good health, people close to us, and a familiar daily routine, we rarely ask ourselves profound questions. We simply live, go about our everyday activities, and take many things for granted. But when a serious problem, disappointment, or inner crisis arises, questions begin to emerge: Why is this happening? What am I doing wrong? Where is my life actually heading? And sometimes these very questions make us see things we have failed to notice for years.
However, I would not argue that people necessarily need suffering for their lives to have meaning. That would imply that happiness, peace, and well-being somehow stand in the way of spiritual development. And I do not think that is entirely true. Problems can certainly make a person reflect, but the meaning of life should not depend solely on the existence of problems. We can grow through difficulties, but also through love, gratitude, learning, creativity, and caring for others. The real question is how consciously we live the life we have been given.
In Jewish tradition, there is a concept known as tikkun olam — repairing or improving the world. I believe it contains a very important idea: we come into this world not merely to enjoy its benefits, but also to make something in it better. This does not necessarily mean making great discoveries or performing extraordinary deeds. Sometimes repairing the world begins with the simplest things: doing our work honestly, raising children, helping those in need, supporting someone during a difficult time, and learning to overcome our own selfishness. Not everyone can change the entire world, but everyone has the opportunity to change something in the part of the world for which they are responsible.
In Pirkei Avot (2:16), Rabbi Tarfon says: “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to withdraw from it.” This thought resonates deeply with me. We often lose our inner peace because we want a final result: to solve every problem, find answers to every question, and finally reach a state in which nothing else needs to be corrected. But human life seems to work differently. We are constantly learning, reconsidering things, making mistakes, correcting them, and discovering new tasks ahead of us. There is nothing wrong with that. Perhaps our task is not to achieve absolute perfection one day, but to keep moving in the right direction.
At the same time, I think it is very important to learn to distinguish between difficulties that genuinely require us to change and circumstances that are simply beyond our control. Sometimes recurring problems point to our habits, poor decisions, or relationships that have long needed reconsideration. But not every unpleasant event is some special sign from above. We may look for patterns where none exist and hold ourselves responsible for things that were entirely beyond our influence. Spiritual work therefore requires not only faith, but also honesty with ourselves, common sense, and a willingness to acknowledge our own limitations.
I also believe it is important that the search for meaning should not turn into endless dissatisfaction with life. We can become so accustomed to searching for the next problem, the next goal, or the next challenge that we completely forget how to enjoy the present. Yet the Book of Ecclesiastes (3:13) tells us that the ability to eat, drink, and find enjoyment in all our work is a gift from God. This means that enjoying the simple blessings of life does not contradict our spiritual purpose. On the contrary, learning to be grateful for what we already have may be just as important as striving for new achievements.
It seems to me that the meaning of life lies neither in constantly overcoming suffering nor in avoiding it at all costs, but in learning to make worthy use of life itself. When difficulties arise, we should look for ways to overcome them. When opportunities appear, we should use them for good. When peace comes, we should know how to appreciate it. And perhaps maturity begins when we stop seeing problems only as obstacles and prosperity only as a reward. Both can become part of our spiritual growth. What matters most is not losing sight of why we live, what kind of people we are becoming, and what we leave behind in the lives of others.
