Cutting Through the Noise: What’s the Point of It All?
We’re all caught up in the relentless pace of modern life—school, work, errands, shopping, household chores. But in the midst of this endless race, there’s one question we often forget to ask: What’s the point? Is there an ultimate purpose to our existence? Or is the goal simply to enjoy life as much as possible until its inevitable end?
Let’s pause for a moment, step back from the frenzy, and reflect on the purpose of our lives.
The Mystery Machine
Imagine the world’s most advanced tech company announcing the launch of a groundbreaking invention destined to change humanity. The identity of the product is a tightly guarded secret, known only to the brilliant design team. The launch event is spectacular: hundreds of journalists pack the hall, and millions tune in live from across the globe. At last, the chief designer takes the stage, whips off the covering cloth, and proudly declares: “I present to you the world’s first Malgofos!”
On the stage sits a bizarre object: a lump of plastic with eight wheels, three antennas, a solar panel, some electronic components, and a processor.
The crowd stares in confusion. What exactly is this “Malgofos,” and why should they be excited? Everyone waits eagerly for the designer’s explanation. But just as he opens his mouth, tragedy strikes: he clutches his chest, collapses, and dies instantly.
After the mourning and memorials, it becomes evident that there isn’t even an instruction manual to this new product, on account of the secrecy surrounding the entire project. Both experts and amateurs alike experiment with the machine, improvising different uses. But are these really what the designer intended? Only he could have told us.
This parable mirrors our own situation. We are also complex creations placed into this world with remarkable abilities—an intricate body, intellectual faculties, an emotional world, and creative capacity—yet we often wander through life lacking clarity as to why we’re here, what we’re meant to do, or who sent us. Just like the audience in the story, we face the machinery of our own existence without the instruction manual. Most people use the incredible “features” they have been gifted however they see fit, rarely stopping to ask the real question: Why was I created?
Asking the Inventor
To answer that question, we must turn to our Creator. Obviously, we can’t “call God,” but He did provide detailed guidance about the purpose of our lives in the Torah, given at Mount Sinai.
At first, “Mount Sinai” might sound like a distant, irrelevant phrase, something too far removed from today’s world. And one might ask: How do we know this event actually happened? How do we know that the Torah really comes from the Creator and wasn’t composed by a human author? Those questions deserve serious attention (see: Who Wrote the Torah?). For now, let’s assume that the Torah is Divine and see what that means for our question about life’s purpose.
The Ultimate Search App
Sadly, asking questions like “What’s the meaning of life?” is often met with strange looks. If you were to ask a friend, “Have you ever wondered why we’re here?” you’d likely be met with: “Are you okay? Maybe you should see a therapist.”
Humanity tends to suppress the deepest question of all, the very question that gives meaning to every moment of life. But the search is significant in its own right. It highlights what makes us unique: unlike any other creature, humans are question-askers. Animals blend into the natural order. Humans, however, question, explore, invent, and improve.
This curiosity isn’t random. It was placed in us by design. The One who gave us life embedded a built-in search engine within our souls. And He expects us to use it.
Existing or Living?
The answer to the question of human purpose—and the very purpose of life itself—lies in a crucial distinction: the difference between mere existence and true life.
Existence is simply occupying space in the world. Everything that exists takes up space—a book on a shelf, a leaf on a tree, a feeling in the heart, or even a thought in the mind. Two things cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Two books cannot sit in the same spot on a shelf, nor can we entertain two distinct thoughts simultaneously. Existence, by definition, displaces everything else from its place.
Human existence, in particular, requires immense resources: food, water, sleep, shelter, safety, and social connection. Without them, existence is compromised. But when there is no greater purpose beyond existence itself, life becomes about acquiring these resources in order to live as comfortably and enjoyably as possible, and nothing more. Many who live this way speak of a lingering emptiness, a quiet sadness, a void they don’t know how to fill.
But life—real life—is something entirely different. Life is the connection between our physical reality and the reality of the Creator. It’s the journey beyond what we can see and feel, beyond the sensory and the tangible, into a higher, spiritual dimension.
How to Start Truly Living
If we assume that life is not a random accident but rather a purposeful creation designed by a higher Being, it follows that this Creator would not expect us to uncover the meaning of life on our own. Instead, He would provide us with guidance—a clear explanation of life’s purpose and how to fulfill it.
That guidance was given at Mount Sinai in the form of the Torah.
According to Jewish tradition, the purpose of human existence is rooted in God’s desire to bestow goodness upon us. As the Torah states: “And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you…but to keep the commandments of the Lord and His statutes…for your good” (Devarim 10:12—13). It also says: “Safeguard and obey all these words that I command you, so that it may go well with you and your children after you forever, for you will be doing what is good and right in the eyes of the Lord your God” (Devarim 12:28).
This goodness is not fleeting. It is eternal and perfect—free of flaw, pain, or suffering. But how do we attain it? God placed our souls into physical bodies and sent us into this world, where we encounter a path marked by struggle and joy, failure and success, sorrow and celebration. On that path, we are called to choose between good and evil, between drawing near to God or turning away from Him. God’s will is for us to follow the blueprint laid out in the Torah and live according to the values and standards it defines. The more faithfully a person lives in accordance with this Divine guidance, the closer they come to their true purpose.
God did not grant souls this goodness automatically, because a reward that is unearned feels incomplete. The ultimate joy comes when the soul earns its reward. To make this possible, God created a world with built-in imperfections, a world in need of healing. Humanity’s role is to repair that brokenness by choosing good. Each moral choice brings light into the world, rectifying evil, impurity, and spiritual lack.
When Adam sinned, the mission of spiritual repair passed to all of humanity, whose souls are rooted in his. Ever since, our task has been to mend both the world and ourselves.
Those who live according to the Torah and bring themselves to completion are rewarded in the next world with eternal spiritual delight, something beyond human comprehension. This reward is not limited to the Garden of Eden, which is only a temporary resting place for the soul. It includes the status of our world after techiyat hameitim (the resurrection of the dead), when this world will be transformed into a place where Heaven and Earth unite.
But even before that, a person who lives with purpose experiences deep satisfaction in this life. The soul senses that it is fulfilling its mission and growing closer to the One Who created it, and there is no greater joy. When a person lives out their true purpose, they feel whole. They experience peace, fulfillment, and a joy that no temporary pleasure in this world can match.
That, in Judaism, is the meaning of life.
Homework for the Soul
We all drift along in the current of daily life. But how many of us pause to ask: What’s the endpoint? What happens after life ends? Was I put here with a mission to fulfill?
To assume there is no higher meaning to our lives, without carefully looking into things, is to gamble with your very existence. If you’re right, you’ve lost nothing. But if you’re wrong, you’ve lost everything.
Wouldn’t it be rational—and responsible—to examine these foundational questions seriously?
Otherwise, decades may pass, and one day, looking back, we might realize we lived without purpose. What could be more painful than reaching old age and discovering you missed the very point of life?
After all, in any journey—school, professional, or even a simple road trip—you always know your destination before you begin. Why, then, when it comes to the greatest journey of all, do so many people never bother to ask where we’re headed?
A sobering thought. And one worth investigating.
The Rambam (Maimonides), one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of all time, taught that what sets human beings apart from all other creatures is the intellect. Accordingly, he concluded that the ultimate purpose of human life is to use that intellect to discover the truth about reality and about the meaning of life itself.
In his words: Man’s ultimate purpose is a single action. All other actions merely serve to sustain his existence so that he may achieve this one purpose: the attainment of knowledge and the understanding of truths in their full clarity. Only through the pursuit of truth can a person reach their highest and most ideal state. And the greatest of all truths is discovering the true nature of existence and the ultimate purpose of life itself.
Dr. Viktor Frankl, a renowned Jewish psychologist, studied under Freud before World War II. Unlike his teacher, who claimed that human beings are driven primarily by instincts and desires, Frankl maintained that at the core of human existence lies a built-in yearning for meaning. He summed it up in his well-known phrase: “Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how’.”
Frankl, a Viennese Jew, was deported with his family to Auschwitz. After the war, he chronicled his harrowing experiences in his best-selling book Man’s Search for Meaning, which has sold over nine million copies. In it, he explains that even the unbearable suffering endured by Holocaust prisoners became somewhat more tolerable if they held onto a sense of meaning in life. As he famously wrote: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Through his life and work, Frankl showed that meaning is not a luxury; it is the very foundation of human resilience and survival.
The Book of Kohelet, written by King Shlomo—the wisest of all men, immensely wealthy and powerful—offers a striking testimony. Shlomo declares that he exhausted every desire and opportunity known to mankind. He knew how to enjoy the blessings he possessed. Yet despite this, he proclaims that all pleasures disconnected from a deep spiritual bond with the Creator are ultimately “hevel havalim, hakol hevel”—utter futility and emptiness (Kohelet 1:2).
From the heights of unparalleled success, he reflects: “And I hated life, for the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me; for all is vanity and chasing after wind” (Kohelet 2:17).
In essence, Shlomo is saying: Believe me, I had it all. Palaces, power, relationships, wealth, vineyards, pools, luxury, and control. But none of it gave me true joy or lasting satisfaction. The achievements that seem to promise peace and happiness are hollow when life lacks meaning and substance.
After a long spiritual journey, Shlomo concludes his book—and his life’s quest—with a timeless message: “The end of the matter, when all has been heard: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, everything hidden whether good or evil” (Kohelet 12:13—14).
This is the enduring truth: fulfillment is not found in possessions or accomplishments, but in a life anchored in purpose, reverence, and a connection to the Divine.
A 2015 study conducted at Mount Sinai Hospital in the United States explored the impact of having a sense of purpose in life on overall health. The researchers defined “purpose” as the feeling that life has meaning and direction, along with the belief that life is worthwhile.
The findings were striking: people with a well-developed sense of purpose had a 23% lower risk of death from all causes and a 19% lower risk of heart attacks, strokes, or the need for bypass surgery or angioplasty. “Cultivating a sense of purpose and meaning can protect your heart, and may even save your life,” said the lead researcher, Dr. Randy Cohen. “As part of maintaining our overall health, each of us should be asking: Do I feel a sense of purpose in my life?”
The study reviewed ten separate research projects involving over 137,000 participants to assess how purpose influenced mortality and cardiovascular risk. It also found that people lacking a sense of purpose were at especially high risk for heart-related events.
“Previous studies have linked a variety of psychological and social factors to heart disease—negative ones like anxiety and depression, and positive ones like optimism and social support,” explained Dr. Alan Rozanski, one of the study’s authors. “Based on our findings, future research should continue to evaluate the role of life purpose in health and quality of life, and explore strategies designed to strengthen people’s sense of meaning and direction.”
The late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes:
That was the special insight Jews brought to the world. They did not believe—as people did in ancient times and as atheists do today—that the universe is governed by mere chance. Was it mere chance that a random fluctuation in the quantum field produced the Big Bang that brought the universe into being? Or that the universe just happened to be regulated by precisely the six mathematical constants necessary for it to give rise to stars and planets and the chemical elements essential for the emergence of life? Was it mere chance that life did in fact emerge from inanimate matter? Or that among the hundred million life forms that have existed on earth, just one, Homo sapiens, was capable of asking the question “Why?”
There is nothing self-contradictory about such a view. It is compatible with all the science we now know, perhaps with all the science we will ever know…Many people think this way. They always did. On this view, there is no “Why,” not for nations, and not for individuals. Life just happens. We are here by accident.
Judaism believed otherwise…The people who change the world are those who believe that life has a purpose, a direction, a destiny. They know where they want to go and what they want to achieve. In the case of Judaism that purpose is clear: to show what it is to create a small clearing in the desert of humanity where freedom and order coexist, where justice prevails, the weak are cared for and those in need are given help, where we have the humility to attribute our successes to God and our failures to ourselves, where we cherish life as the gift of God and do all we can to make it holy…
To achieve this, though, we have to have a sense of collective purpose. That is the choice that Moshe, speaking in the name of God, set before the Israelites…Does life just happen? Or is it a call from God to create moments of moral and spiritual beauty that redeem our humanity from the ruthless pursuit of power? “To give human life the dignity of a purpose.” That is what Jews are called on to show the world (Covenant and Conversation, Parashat Bechukotai, 2016).
The Rambam (Maimonides), one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of all time, taught that what sets human beings apart from all other creatures is the intellect. Accordingly, he concluded that the ultimate purpose of human life is to use that intellect to discover the truth about reality and about the meaning of life itself.
In his words: Man’s ultimate purpose is a single action. All other actions merely serve to sustain his existence so that he may achieve this one purpose: the attainment of knowledge and the understanding of truths in their full clarity. Only through the pursuit of truth can a person reach their highest and most ideal state. And the greatest of all truths is discovering the true nature of existence and the ultimate purpose of life itself.
The Book of Kohelet, written by King Shlomo—the wisest of all men, immensely wealthy and powerful—offers a striking testimony. Shlomo declares that he exhausted every desire and opportunity known to mankind. He knew how to enjoy the blessings he possessed. Yet despite this, he proclaims that all pleasures disconnected from a deep spiritual bond with the Creator are ultimately “hevel havalim, hakol hevel”—utter futility and emptiness (Kohelet 1:2).
From the heights of unparalleled success, he reflects: “And I hated life, for the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me; for all is vanity and chasing after wind” (Kohelet 2:17).
In essence, Shlomo is saying: Believe me, I had it all. Palaces, power, relationships, wealth, vineyards, pools, luxury, and control. But none of it gave me true joy or lasting satisfaction. The achievements that seem to promise peace and happiness are hollow when life lacks meaning and substance.
After a long spiritual journey, Shlomo concludes his book—and his life’s quest—with a timeless message: “The end of the matter, when all has been heard: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, everything hidden whether good or evil” (Kohelet 12:13—14).
This is the enduring truth: fulfillment is not found in possessions or accomplishments, but in a life anchored in purpose, reverence, and a connection to the Divine.
The late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes:
That was the special insight Jews brought to the world. They did not believe—as people did in ancient times and as atheists do today—that the universe is governed by mere chance. Was it mere chance that a random fluctuation in the quantum field produced the Big Bang that brought the universe into being? Or that the universe just happened to be regulated by precisely the six mathematical constants necessary for it to give rise to stars and planets and the chemical elements essential for the emergence of life? Was it mere chance that life did in fact emerge from inanimate matter? Or that among the hundred million life forms that have existed on earth, just one, Homo sapiens, was capable of asking the question “Why?”
There is nothing self-contradictory about such a view. It is compatible with all the science we now know, perhaps with all the science we will ever know…Many people think this way. They always did. On this view, there is no “Why,” not for nations, and not for individuals. Life just happens. We are here by accident.
Judaism believed otherwise…The people who change the world are those who believe that life has a purpose, a direction, a destiny. They know where they want to go and what they want to achieve. In the case of Judaism that purpose is clear: to show what it is to create a small clearing in the desert of humanity where freedom and order coexist, where justice prevails, the weak are cared for and those in need are given help, where we have the humility to attribute our successes to God and our failures to ourselves, where we cherish life as the gift of God and do all we can to make it holy…
To achieve this, though, we have to have a sense of collective purpose. That is the choice that Moshe, speaking in the name of God, set before the Israelites…Does life just happen? Or is it a call from God to create moments of moral and spiritual beauty that redeem our humanity from the ruthless pursuit of power? “To give human life the dignity of a purpose.” That is what Jews are called on to show the world (Covenant and Conversation, Parashat Bechukotai, 2016).
Dr. Viktor Frankl, a renowned Jewish psychologist, studied under Freud before World War II. Unlike his teacher, who claimed that human beings are driven primarily by instincts and desires, Frankl maintained that at the core of human existence lies a built-in yearning for meaning. He summed it up in his well-known phrase: “Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how’.”
Frankl, a Viennese Jew, was deported with his family to Auschwitz. After the war, he chronicled his harrowing experiences in his best-selling book Man’s Search for Meaning, which has sold over nine million copies. In it, he explains that even the unbearable suffering endured by Holocaust prisoners became somewhat more tolerable if they held onto a sense of meaning in life. As he famously wrote: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Through his life and work, Frankl showed that meaning is not a luxury; it is the very foundation of human resilience and survival.
A 2015 study conducted at Mount Sinai Hospital in the United States explored the impact of having a sense of purpose in life on overall health. The researchers defined “purpose” as the feeling that life has meaning and direction, along with the belief that life is worthwhile.
The findings were striking: people with a well-developed sense of purpose had a 23% lower risk of death from all causes and a 19% lower risk of heart attacks, strokes, or the need for bypass surgery or angioplasty. “Cultivating a sense of purpose and meaning can protect your heart, and may even save your life,” said the lead researcher, Dr. Randy Cohen. “As part of maintaining our overall health, each of us should be asking: Do I feel a sense of purpose in my life?”
The study reviewed ten separate research projects involving over 137,000 participants to assess how purpose influenced mortality and cardiovascular risk. It also found that people lacking a sense of purpose were at especially high risk for heart-related events.
“Previous studies have linked a variety of psychological and social factors to heart disease—negative ones like anxiety and depression, and positive ones like optimism and social support,” explained Dr. Alan Rozanski, one of the study’s authors. “Based on our findings, future research should continue to evaluate the role of life purpose in health and quality of life, and explore strategies designed to strengthen people’s sense of meaning and direction.”
Abigail Sapir, a former member of the world-renowned performance troupe Mayumana, seemed to have reached the peak of her dreams. She had everything she ever thought she wanted—fame, success, applause. And yet, she openly admits that behind the dazzling smiles and glamorous photos lay something else entirely: deep emptiness and an aching sense that she was living a lie. Only later, she says, did she begin to truly live.
I remember coming back to my luxurious hotel room, lying down on the big double bed, and crying my eyes out. Sobbing uncontrollably, not understanding why I wasn’t happy. I asked myself: What’s wrong with me? Isn’t this what life is supposed to be? I turned to God and cried out: Is this not what You want from me? I’m doing the best I can with what You gave me, so why am I not happy? And then the next day I would wake up, plaster on a fake smile, head off to another show, upload glowing photos to Facebook, and keep living from one tour to the next. That became my entire purpose. But inside, the pain was suffocating. Outwardly, everything looked perfect; inwardly, I was collapsing.
Childhood Questions and a Quiet Faith
Sapir grew up in Hod HaSharon in a secular home, far removed from Jewish tradition. Her mother had been raised in a socialist kibbutz; her father had only partial traditional roots. Jewish holidays were celebrated, but as lively family dinners, not as sacred times.
Yet even as a little girl, she never stopped searching. “I always believed there was a Creator,” she recalls. “I didn’t know why; no one taught me to, but I just knew. When I needed something, I knew who to turn to. When I was hurting, I knew who to cry to. I had a simple, innocent faith, and I never stopped asking questions: Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Why did God create me? My parents would say: To be a good person. Which is true, but it never satisfied me. I kept feeling: there has to be more.”
The Search in Pleasure, Travel, and Adventure
After high school, Sapir served in the army as a tour guide, then became a ski and snowboarding instructor, traveling widely and soaking in the world’s natural beauty. Half a year in the Alps, breathtaking landscapes, parties, friends, adventure—it sounded like paradise. “And still,” she admits, “inside I felt empty. Pleasure evaporates quickly. One moment you’re on a high, the next you’re chasing the next fix. Happiness never lasts.”
A solo trip to South America changed everything. On the Galápagos Islands, away from friends and distractions, she experienced a profound inner awakening:
For the first time, I wasn’t swept along by others. I listened inwardly, and I heard the voice of faith that I’d forgotten. Watching sunsets, animals, the untouched beauty of creation, I couldn’t escape the question: Who made all this? And I asked God, very simply: If You’re real, show me what You want from me. That prayer marked the beginning of something new.
From Dreams Fulfilled to Crushing Emptiness
Back in Israel, Sapir pursued her dream of joining Mayumana. Against the odds, she was accepted, and soon was touring the world—Hong Kong, South America, Europe—performing to sold-out audiences, basking in acclaim, living the high life.
“It was everything I thought I wanted,” she says. “For a moment, I believed I’d made it. But very quickly, the same emptiness returned. I’d finish a show and feel completely broken inside. I was living everyone else’s dream, but not my truth.”
Even in relationships, the same disillusionment haunted her. “I stopped believing in real love. I thought it was all just illusions and interests. I disconnected completely from the idea that true love even exists.”
A Turning Point
Then came an unexpected pause: a tour to Portugal was suddenly canceled. To her surprise, she felt relieved. She moved north, lived simply by a river in Kibbutz Sdei Nechemia, and began stripping away the noise—no TV, fewer distractions.
“I realized I was a slave—to career, to social expectations, to desires. And I wanted freedom.”
That desire led her to Jewish learning. She began attending classes, at first out of curiosity, later out of longing. A lecture on love shook her to the core. It spoke of love in the pure, deep way she had once believed in as a child. “I cried the whole way home,” she remembers.
Slowly, she was drawn into the sweetness of Torah, prayer, and Jewish spirituality. Eventually, she found her way to Neve Yerushalayim, a seminary for women returning to Jewish tradition. Though she had resisted “the religious world,” seeing it as primitive and closed, she was overwhelmed by the warmth, authenticity, and honesty she encountered. “For the first time,” she says, “I felt like I had truly come home.”
A New Life
“Walking into that seminary was like being filled with pure, sweet water,” she says with a smile. “I felt I was healing, growing, connecting to God in the most real way.”
Today, Sapir still dances, creates music, and travels, but from a place of authenticity. “I never had to give up who I am,” she explains. “All I needed was guidance on how to channel it correctly.”
And as for love? “Now I believe in it again—real love, deep love. I know it exists, and I’m waiting for it.”
Looking back at her past with Mayumana, she feels no nostalgia, only clarity. “Back then, I was chasing illusions. Today, I feel embraced by God, living truthfully, discovering who I really am.”
