From Emptiness to Emunah: How I Found a Life of Meaning

Let me share what led me to start searching for the meaning of life. From a very young age, I felt like nothing in the material world could truly satisfy me. Eventually, after a lot of study both scientific and spiritual, I chose to become religious and embrace a life of emunah (faith). But what really pushed me to begin searching was the emptiness I felt in life itself.

I kept thinking: If all wealth, knowledge, and success disappear the moment a person dies, what’s the point of chasing them? Sure, technology can make life more comfortable, but what’s the value of that comfort if life itself feels meaningless? Imagine a perfect world: no illness, no struggles, robots doing all the work, all knowledge at our fingertips... and what would we do? Sit around and scroll on Facebook for 120 years? Is that what life is really about?

When I was just ten years old, I remember asking my father, “Abba, if you knew we all die in the end, why did you bring me into the world? It doesn’t matter what we do or learn if everything eventually disappears... so what’s the point of living?” My parents were shocked.

I grew up in a secular school in Ramat Gan. I remember looking at the adults around me and feeling like something didn’t add up. They knew that life was short, yet they chased after money and success like it was the only thing that mattered.

At age twelve, I began exploring. By the time I turned eighteen, I made a big decision, I chose to enter a yeshiva and dive into Torah study.

At some point, I realized that if we study human nature, we might discover why we were created. Just like you can learn about a craftsman by studying what he made, we can learn about the Creator by looking at His creation. And who is His greatest creation? Us.

When we look into our hearts, we find clues about why we’re really here. Even people who say “life is just for fun” don’t truly live by that. Think about it, if you had to choose between saving a drowning elderly woman or a dog, you wouldn’t hesitate, even though the dog might be happier and more energetic. Why? Because we value people based on something deeper, on their soul, not their level of enjoyment.

We naturally admire people who make sacrifices for others, who live for a higher purpose. We look up to those who choose values over comfort. And we look down on people who live selfishly, even if they have it all.

If we compare ourselves to animals, we notice something else. A dog will eat the same food every day and wag its tail with excitement as if it’s a gourmet meal. But we humans? We get bored quickly. Even the best meal, the fanciest phone, the most beautiful house, none of it keeps us satisfied for long. We’re always wanting more.

Our Sages said it well: “Whoever has one hundred wants two hundred.” The more we chase material things, the more we realize they’re not enough. That’s because our deepest hunger isn’t physical, it’s spiritual. And no amount of money, fame, or pleasure can satisfy that.

This truth is what led me to search. I saw that there’s something inside us that craves meaning, something eternal. And that need only grows stronger as we grow older.

At one point in my journey, I read a powerful idea: “Just as a thirsty person proves that water exists, a person searching for meaning proves that meaning exists.” Hashem created hunger and thirst so we would seek what we truly need. So if your soul is longing for something deeper, that longing itself is proof that you were created for something more.

The ultimate purpose of life is to connect to Hashem. That’s what we’re here for.

To help others who are searching like I was, I wrote a short booklet called A Fateful Conversation. It talks about the meaning of life, free will, the search for truth, and why Hashem placed us in this world. You can find it by searching Google for the words “A Fateful Conversation.”

I hope it helps you, like this journey helped me. Good luck on your path and may you find the clarity, connection, and joy that comes with walking toward truth.