From Chekhov to Kabbalah: Finding Meaning in a Seemingly Meaningless Life
One of my students recently read to me a quote by Anton Chekhov and asked my opinion on it, since he believed that its ideas held similarity to ideas in the wisdom of Kabbalah.
“I was no more than 26 years old at the time, but I knew very well that life had no purpose or meaning, that everything was a deception and illusion. The essence and outcome of a hard-labor life on Sakhalin Island is no different from a life in Nice. And the difference between Kant’s brain and a fly’s brain is insignificant. No one in this world is right or wrong, and everything is rubbish and nonsense, and so to hell with it!” — Anton Chekhov, Lights.
I can relate to what Chekhov expressed in his 26th year. At that moment in his life, he observed everything around him — his environment, his inner world, and the knowledge he likely gained from books — and he reached this bleak conclusion. This was his summary of life at that time.
When a young person feels pressed on all sides and begins to contemplate the meaninglessness of life, the correct response is not to send everything to hell but to keep going with what is required of you. The task at hand is to close your eyes and move forward.
But how do we know what is required of us? There is an upper force of love and bestowal that demands a particular effort from us. This upper force is a higher nature that is far wiser than us, and so we have no choice but to follow its call, to acknowledge that there is a grand design that unfolds beyond our understanding.
Chekhov compared the harsh backbreaking life in Sakhalin to the serene comforts of Nice, concluding that there is no substantial difference between the two. How could he make such a comparison? It is because if we strip away the superficial layers — bodily comfort and sensory indulgences — our lives remain unchanged. We are all on the same journey, the same struggle, irrespective of location.
I, too, hold the view that, fundamentally, life — whether on a remote island or in a luxurious city — is the same life. For me, life requires very little: a place to work, a quiet room, perhaps a computer. This simplicity reflects the realization that what truly matters is not the external setting but the inner process of development.
In relation to the comparison Chekhov draws between Kant’s brain and a fly’s brain, indeed they both operate on egoistic motivation, the pursuit for maximum pleasure with minimum effort. Though Kant appears to question himself and reflect on his actions, at their core, both he and the fly follow the same basic principle. The difference is that we humans are granted reason to explore the deeper meaning of our existence. To live with reason is challenging. It demands constant examination of our actions, their causes, and their alignment with the forces driving them. This kind of life — a life of reason — is indeed difficult because it requires ongoing reflection and the willingness to see beyond immediate gratification.
Ultimately, our journey as humans leads us to discover the purpose of life: attaining similarity to the laws of nature. It is our singular goal, the endpoint of all our struggles and efforts. Unlike the fly, which lacks free will and exists solely within the natural laws assigned to it, we humans have the potential to rise above our nature.
Also in Chekhov’s quote is the observation that “no one in this world is right or wrong.” It stems from his understanding that people act within the framework of the nature they are given. Their actions are involuntary, dictated by the conditions and forces surrounding them. In this sense, no one can be blamed or praised. However, such a realization should not encourage passivity.
The correct attitude toward life is to recognize its fierce purposefulness. Life has meaning, and it is our responsibility to uncover it. This meaning aligns perfectly with the ultimate law of nature: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This is the law of human community and the ultimate purpose to which we should always strive.