Transcript
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In 2008, the New York Times partnered
with the Gallup organization to launch a
massive research project, a coast to
coast deep dive into happiness in
America. And they conducted hundreds of
thousands of phone interviews reaching
people in every state and every city in
town. And respondents were asked about
everything about their emotional
well-being, their job satisfaction,
their physical health, relationships,
overall quality of life. They went
through everything that would make a
person happy. And the goal was to find
out which group in America was actually
living the quote unquote good life to
discover which people in America were
the happiest people. They figured the
results would fascinate the public and
maybe even inspire people to adopt the
habits and the values of the happiest
communities in the world. They called it
the Gallup Healthways well-being index.
And when the results came in, the New
York Times quietly decided not to put it
on the front page as they planned. Why?
Because the answers didn't exactly fit
the cultural narrative. Instead, the
findings were tucked away in the weekend
review section on the third page. Want
to guess who ranked as the happiest
people in the entire United States?
Yeah, you guessed it. Observant Jews.
Not just Jews. Observant Jews. Not the
billionaire tech mogul. Not the yoga on
a mountain wellness crowd. Not the Botox
influencers sipping smoothies on a beach
somewhere. Not even the regular
Americans running around doing their
thing. The happiest people in entire in
the entire North America are the
observant religious Jews. It's the
people who still dress like it's the
1920s. The ones who start their morning
with fillin and tila. The ones who don't
use technology for 26 hours every week.
The ones who fast, who pray, who cry
over ancient text and whisper blessings
over bread. Them, they're the happiest.
The world was stunned. You know who
wasn't stunned?
us because deep down we've always known
beneath the static of modern life, the
noise, the guilt, the confusion, we know
exactly where joy lives. We've tasted it
on chabas. We felt it in the warmth of
our homes. We've heard it in the
laughter of our children, in the quiet
strength of community that shows up when
it matters most. We've seen it in the
beauty of living with purpose. and Elo.
This sacred stretch of time is our
return to that joy. That's the mindset
we need. That's the shift that can turn
Elo from spiritual chore we dread into a
soulful reset that we crave. From a
hurdle to a haven, from guilt to
greatness. Because maybe the sound of
the Schaefer every year isn't some
divine alarm clock that's slapping you
in the face yelling change or else.
Maybe it's something softer and
stronger. Maybe it's the blast of a
ship's horn waiting at the harbor,
signaling that the boat to a fuller,
richer, holier, more meaningful, more
harmonious life is about to set sail,
and it's telling you to climb aboard
before you miss the boat entirely.
Maybe the Schaefer isn't a threat, but
an invitation to climb aboard the boat,
sailing to the most fulfilled life on
Earth. Because the question of l isn't
are you ready to change. The question is
are you ready to stop missing out?
[Music]
