“I further observed all the oppression that goes on under the sun: the tears of the oppressed, with none to comfort them; and the power of their oppressors—with none to comfort them. Then I accounted those who died long since more fortunate than those who are still living; and happier than either are those who have not yet come into being and have never witnessed the miseries that go on under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes, 4:1–3, 3rd century BCE)
“Not to be born is, beyond all estimation, best; but when a man has seen the light of day, this is next best by far, that with utmost speed he should go back from where he came.” (Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus, 401 BCE)
Since time immemorial, philosophers have asked “Is it better to have never been born at all, rather than suffer in this world?” And many, being realists, have shared the conclusions of Solomon and Sophocles.
Logically, they have a point. The reality is that we will all die. None of us will fully achieve the potential we entered this world with. None of us is likely to leave as much of a positive impression on the world as we would like.
This is why pessimists simply see themselves as realists. It is all logical and tidy.
On the other hand, Realism is also the path to a nihilistic life of depression, misery and wallowing in gloom. Realists and pessimists are no fun.
I think the Torah makes this point through the simplest of puns: the word for “see” and the word for “fear” are the very same letters (translators decide which is which using context). So, for example, when Avraham wakes up in the morning, and “looking down toward Sodom and Gomorrah and all the land of the Plain, he saw the smoke of the land rising like the smoke of a kiln,” the word for “saw” can just as easily be an expression of shock.
This happens both ways. When Jacob wakes from his dream and is afraid because he realizes that the place is a gateway to heaven, we could just as easily translate his fear as awareness, that he now suddenly “sees” what he did not understand before.
When we allow ourselves to be guided by what we see, we are limited by reality. And reality is crushingly depressing. The only way we have the energy to keep pushing water uphill is if we refuse to be bound by “reality” – which is really our fear. Extrapolation from known data is fundamentally depressing. Entropy and eventual ruination, on scales both large and small.
The only way to avoid being bogged down is to consistently imagine the future: instead of being guided by facts, we need to be guided by hopes.
This helps explain why the most important verb in the Torah is shomea – which engages both hearing, thinking, and the imagination. Hence: “Hear oh Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is one.” Not to engage with what is in front of our eyes, but instead with what is in – and between – our ears.
Because the future we strive to create should never be the same as the present moment that we see.