Sirens interrupt my work, each and every day. My new office is just a block from a fire station, which insures a daily invasion of high-decibel wails. They usually arrive at the worst possible time, when I am most engrossed in work. In short: I can’t stand sirens. Today, the fire trucks arrived just as I started to prepare for the High Holidays, and the coincidental timing reminded me that Rosh Hashanah has its own siren, the shofar. And while we may be fascinated by the dramatic tones of a ram’s horn, in actuality, we can’t stand the siren call of the shofar either.
Rosh Hashanah is meant to disturb us. The shofar, as Maimonides explains, is a loud alarm meant to rattle people out of their spiritual slumber. The annual shofar call is to stop us from getting lost in our daily routines, a yearly reminder that there is more to existence than merely existing.
It is much easier just to pursue happiness; all you have to do is look for a comfortable, enjoyable way of life. But the shofar crashes the party and pushes us in uncomfortable directions, demanding that we re-examine our lives and priorities.
The Bible in the first chapter of Kohelet says: “the more knowledge, the more grief.” In other words, ignorance is bliss. But if you can find happiness in ignorance, why do we pursue knowledge? Because not everything in life is about bliss. There is a difference between pursuing happiness and searching for meaning, and, at times, meaning may be the opposite of happiness.
In a 2013 article in the Journal of Positive Psychology, Roy Baumeister found that “happiness without meaning characterizes a relatively shallow, self-absorbed or even selfish life,” while “the unhappy but meaningful life… [is] seriously involved in difficult undertakings.” The shofar calls us to the uncomfortable task of searching for meaning by re-examining our lives and our priorities.
Sadly, the siren sound of the shofar is getting tuned out. People once cared greatly about finding meaning in their lives, but that perspective is rapidly disappearing. The American Council on Education has been surveying incoming college freshman since 1966. In 1967, 82.9 per cent of freshman felt that “developing a meaningful philosophy of life” was essential; in 2015, only 46.5 per cent felt that was an important objective. (In contrast, in 1967, 43.5 per cent of freshman considered it essential to be “well off financially;” by 2015, that number had gone up to 81.9 per cent.) These surveys of college freshman are a reflection of what most of us believe. We would rather ignore the call to meaning, and live comfortable, sweet, and easy lives. Why listen to the shofar’s call when everything is going so well?
The loss of interest in meaning is a concern for the entire world, and a particular problem for Judaism. If there is a Jewish “brand,” it is about challenging oneself and taking the road less travelled. From the very beginning, Jews were looking for a meaningful life, no matter how difficult it would be. Such is the story of the great leaders of the Bible. Abraham is jailed for smashing idols, and Moses flees Egypt after saving the life of a slave. As the Talmud puts it, the righteous have no rest, neither in this world nor in the world to come.
The Jewish way is to imagine that every decision matters, that each action we take can decide the fate of the universe. This dogged pursuit of meaning is intense and passionate. It is also very much out of step with the times when only 46.5 per cent of incoming college freshman are interested in developing a life filled with meaning; after all, the pursuit of happiness is simply happier.
As we sound the shofar in 2016, we have to wonder: is this sound too intense for a society devoted to comfort?