Why do we feel wrenching compassion when we see an orphaned child weeping, or an old widow in lonely despair, or an animal whimpering in pain? What gives us the powerful urge to send an anonymous gift of money or clothes to tsunami victims on the other side of the world whom we'll never meet and who are highly unlikely to return the favor?

With these powerful questions, Richard Dawkins begin his chapter entitled "The Roots of Morality—Why Are We Good."

Dawkins is an atheist. And a self-proclaimed proud one. He is very vocal about his "deeply religious non-belief" and longs for others to follow his example.

His book, The God Delusion, surprisingly sold 2 million copies. Surprising because, though he claims religion is illogical and dogmatic, his book dogmatically pokes fun at religion and belief in G‑d by ascribing to it numerous epithets and insulting adjectives with what could only be termed "religious" zealotry. In his rant, he also cites some of the stupidest acts committed by religious people, thereby merely proving that intellectual acuity, or a lack thereof, is not reserved to atheists.

There are many qualified scientists who systematically prove the many holes in the theory of evolution. This article is not about those scientific proofs.

What caught my interest is how Dawkins dealt with the question of morality. At the outset, Dawkins admits that "the Darwinian idea that evolution is driven by natural selection seems ill-suited to explain such goodness as we possess, or our feelings of morality, decency, empathy and pity."

This got me nodding in agreement. When our world is merely a matter of random acts of "natural selection" without any Designer or apparent purpose or direction, and creations are simply individual organisms fighting for their survival, what should cause us to selflessly pursue acts of goodness or morality, at the expense of our own personal needs or pleasures?

Dawkins answers this by explaining that there are four motivators for "altruistic behavior" (his term) in a Darwinian, evolutionary society:

1) Kinship: Acts of altruism would be programmed towards one's genetic kin—such as one's children—in order to increase the pool of one's own genes.

2) Reciprocal altruism or symbiosis: In simple words, "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours." An act of kindness may be performed in order to demand reciprocation for it at a later date.

3) Reputation of goodness: A generous act may be performed in order to foster a calculated and advantageous reputation of goodness that will benefit the individual at a later date.

4) Advertisement of dominance or superiority: Altruistic giving may be an advertisement of dominance or superiority. Only a genuinely superior individual can afford to advertise the fact through a costly gift.

Dawkins goes on to explain that even if some of these original motivators no longer apply in today's society, they may have become part of our evolved self to the point that these acts are now common.

He writes: "Could it be that our Good Samaritan urges are misfirings, analogous to the misfiring of a reed warbler's parental instincts when it works itself to the bone for a young cuckoo?

"In ancestral times, we had the opportunity to be altruistic only towards close kin and potential reciprocators. Nowadays that restriction is no longer there but the rule of thumb persists…We can no more help ourselves feeling pity when we see a weeping unfortunate (who is unrelated and unable to reciprocate)."

To Dawkins and Darwinians, kindness, generosity, empathy or acts of altruism are simply evolved, self-serving reactions. Anything more is, as he puts it, "misfirings, Darwinian mistakes," which he nevertheless acknowledges are "blessed, precious mistakes."

Altruism is merely a calculated manipulation geared towards self-aggrandizement, or smart investments that will lead to interest-laden results. In the best case scenario in a Darwinian-Dawkins society, any act of goodness beyond these parameters is simply a "misfired mistake," perhaps blessed, but nevertheless a mistake!

To a believer, on the other hand, our time in this world is not accidental, nor is it a random happening of natural selection based on the survival of the fittest. It is rather a benevolent gift bequeathed to us from our Creator entrusting us with the incredible opportunity, and responsibility, to use our time productively by transforming our world into a more G‑dly and goodly place.

To a believer, a fellow human being is not simply a random pool of organisms from whom we can milk the greatest reciprocation or whom we can manipulate or dominate for our own self-interests. Fellow human beings are creations of G‑d with their own G‑dly mission that they alone can uniquely accomplish.

The believer looks into the eyes of his child and does not see a mere random act of copulation, or someone to whom to demonstrate kinship as a means of increasing his own gene pool. He sees instead a precious and miraculous gift of life that has been entrusted to his care, to teach and inspire, to love and cherish.

So, where an atheist sees natural selection of the strongest or fittest, a believer sees a design and Designer.

While the atheist sees randomness and purposelessness, a believer sees a world with meaning and direction.

While an atheist sees altruism as an evolutionary "misfiring," a believer sees his moral conscience as the guidance of his G‑dly soul.

The question of "why be good" is answered very differently by the atheist and the believer. In fact, morality and altruism, goodness and kindness acquire entirely different worlds of meaning.

Because where an atheist views creation as an evolved pool of genes, the believer sees every part of creation – from the blade of grass to his fellow human being – as a spark of the Divine.

How quickly can you recall – with some specificity – what you did yesterday? Sure, you can probably do it, but how long will it take you?

How about last Wednesday?

If you're like me, you spend a lot of energy responding to responsibilities of the moment, while stressing (at least a bit) about things yet to come. This makes most of life in the rear-view mirror meld into a blur, one hour virtually indistinguishable from another, one day running into the next.

Yes, we're managing, but life should be about more than staying afloat. Humdrum, unspectacular hours just fade into the past.

What to do?

Chassidic thought encourages us to pro-actively take charge of our time and imbue each hour with meaning, making sure that our days really count.

So let's make our time remarkable.

Chassidic though suggests an attitude called "counting hours."

Think of your next hour as a vessel waiting to be filled. It's neutral time, and you get to choose how it will be used.

If you make this hour's character special, the hour will become significant; it'll live on.

It's possible for a day or hour's special events to make it an outstanding slice of time, a time too distinct to just blend in to life's blur.

But it's about more than memory.

After all, what if you learned an important life-lesson years ago, yet can't remember the hour and day during which you learned the lesson? Does that really matter? Doesn't that day live on with you, since its content echoes into your present life?

If my days are meaningfully spent, I'll know it. Life will feel full, and it won't matter whether I can remember exactly what I did at noon last Tuesday.

If you consciously recognize this next hour as an hour during which you are fulfilling G‑d's intent in your creation - whether you spend it working to provide for your family or reading something inspiring on Chabad.org - you have done something remarkable. You have proactively chosen to make this hour a vehicle for purposeful living; you will have aligned your life with G‑d's intent in creating you.

While it may not be apparent to the onlooker, you've filled your hour with Eternal Meaning.

Can time be any better spent?

Surrender.

I used to think it was a "bad" word. A real cop-out.

Surrender to destiny or fate? Never! We need to mold and change our circumstances, to strenuously exert ourselves to overcome challenges! Not accept them!

After all, are we not what we choose to be? Don't we have control over ourselves, our lives and our choices? Can't we will to be what we want to be?

Well, yes and no.

One of the most basic human convictions is that we make choices that decide our actions and influence our fate. Having the confidence to forge ahead and overcome any obstacles is crucial in order to actualize our emotional, spiritual and intellectual aspirations.

But then there is also the ability to acknowledge that "my" goal may not be what is ultimately meant for me.

As much as I will myself to become an opera soprano, microbiologist or a shrewd business investor—or even just a perpetually giving person – there comes a point when, as hard as I try, as strenuously as I train, and as much as I study, it simply won't happen. There are things within my control, within my abilities, but a soprano voice just isn't one of them.

Or try as I might to change my spouse (or boss or strong-willed toddler), he'll just never be the neat, orderly and punctual individual I aim for him to be (same for generous-with-a-raise boss, or obedient two-year-old).

There comes a point when I've got to accept that "it is what it is" and "I am what I am."

Is this a defeatist attitude that allows us to be satisfied with mediocrity and encourages lazy acceptance?

I don't think so.

Persevering against one's challenges and fighting against one's inborn limitations encourages our growth and is expected of each of us. Not doing so makes us guilty that we've wasted our innate, G‑d-given potential. We don't need to aim for perfection, but we do need to continue our journey of growth, one step at a time.

But, at the same time, surrendering to our destiny – even if it might be very different than the one we would have chosen for ourselves – is accepting that, despite our limited perspective, there is a design to our world and a Designer who is running it.

To forge ahead and create change takes courage.

To surrender to our destiny takes humility.

And it takes wisdom to determine which of the two is the right choice.

"I don't think Frankl fell short of providing a path toward meaning. I think that is somewhat a desecration of his message. He wrote a book of psychology, which is naturally a humanistic and subjective field, not an ethics or biblical commentary," a friend told me after reading my last blog critiquing logotherapy, Frankl's psychotherapeutic method of finding meaning.

She continued, "It would be unethical for a therapist to impose values… The nature of humanity is to be subjective and thankfully so. A universal code of morality cannot and should not exist!"

My friend made an interesting point, and she is in good company.

Establishing value judgments has been viewed by many psychologists and scientists as an offensive departure from the scientific method, to be shunned at all cost.

According to Thomas Harris, author of the best-selling I'm OK, You're OK, "Some of these people steadfastly insist that scientific inquiry cannot be applied to this field. 'That is a value judgment; therefore, we cannot examine it.' 'That is in the field of beliefs; therefore we cannot assemble plausible data.'"

Can—or should—values and scientific enquiry ever mix? Can the objective criteria of scientific thought and investigation be subjected to a system of values, beliefs or morals which are seemingly subjective?

Harris, whose book sold over 15 million copies and according to the Los Angeles Times "helped millions find the freedom to change" argues it can and must.

"What they [people who feel science and values don't mix] overlook is the fact that the scientific method is totally dependent on a moral value—the trustworthiness of the reporters of scientific observation… Why does a scientist tell the truth? Because he can prove in a laboratory that he should?"

Harris quotes Nathaniel Branden, another prominent member of the psychological community, who charges that psychiatrists and psychologists bear a grave moral responsibility if they declare that "philosophical and moral issues do not concern them, that science cannot pronounce moral judgments." Those that "shrug off their professional obligations with the assertion that a rational code of morality is impossible, by their silence, lend the sanction to spiritual murder." (Italics mine.)

For what motivates a psychologist or scientist to do research to make our world a better place? Isn’t he prompted by the conviction, strictly indemonstrable to science, that the universe has a direction?

How can a therapist hope to help his patient deal with his inner conflicts without believing in a human being's innate abilities? Frankl notes: "If we are to bring out the human potential at its best, we must first believe in its existence and presence. And in spite of our belief in the potential humanness of man, we must not close our eyes to the fact that humane humans are and probably will always remain a minority. But it is precisely for this reason that each of us is challenged to join the minority."

In fact, at the root of the existential movement is the belief that man has free choice to become responsible for his actions. In analyzing the existentialists' contribution to therapy, Rollo May writes: "Man is the being who can be conscious of, and therefore responsible for, his existence. It is the ability to become aware of his own being which distinguishes the human being from other beings. Binswanger speaks of 'Dasein choosing' this or that, meaning 'the person-who-is-responsible for his existence choosing…

"(Medard) Boss points out that a person feels guilt because 'he has locked up some essential potentialities in himself. Therefore he has guilt feelings. If you lock up potentialities you are guilty against what is given you in your origin, in your core.'"

Aren't these underlying principles of therapy value judgments? These statements affirm quite unscientifically that every being has a core value and essential potentialities that, if not used, the individual is guilty of abusing. And that man is distinguished among all other creations in his awareness of his responsibility towards himself and the world.

If these weren't members of the scientific community, many of these claims would almost sound like they originate from religious moralists.

Even Sigmund Freud, considered by many to be the demolisher of religious icons, made an unusually religious statement. When asked to summarize psychoanalytic theory in one sentence, he answered in seven words: where id was, there ego shall be. That is, psychoanalysis tries to explain the process where we can (or cannot) substitute choice for impulse.

If we were to summarize the moral thrust of the Torah, it would come out remarkably similar—don't do what you feel like doing; do what G‑d wants you to do.

So, can value judgments and scientific enquiry be compatible?

Perhaps a more basic question is: how can science be effective without morals and value judgments at its foundation?

But then the real dilemma, which becomes ever so complex, is how to define what these morals should be.

The last few weeks en route to my daughter's school, we passed a billboard flashing an alluring new sports car. Above the car were only three powerful words: Lust Conquers All.

This past week, the billboard was changed. The new billboard now features a group of hip young men and women smiling in designer wear with the name of the designer proudly displayed above.

The message of both billboards, and thousands like them, is clear. To lead happier, more fulfilling lives, you need these things—this type of car or these designer labels.

Followers of Freud would undoubtedly see these advertisements as proving his theory that man's primal motivation is his desire for pleasure. Adlerians, on the other hand, would note how they fit Adler's philosophy of man's striving for superiority. The right car and the right labels can bring you pleasure and power.

Power and pleasure are definitely strong forces. Advertising agencies have played on these drives to convince us of our need for many products – from the perfect vacation to the perfect accessory. But is there more to the human psyche than just these drives?

Viktor Frankl was tormented by this question. In logotherapy, the system Frankl developed, now touted as the third Viennese school of psychotherapy, he argues that by seeing the human psyche as a conglomerate of fragmented parts and drives, like the will to pleasure or power, the wholeness of the human person is destroyed. Man is ultimately depersonalized and viewed as an object, ruled by "mechanisms."

From Frankl's perspective, the underlying motivation in all human beings is their "will to meaning." Frankl backs his extensive theory with studies and statistics where the majority of respondents asserted that "developing a meaningful philosophy of life" or "finding a purpose and a meaning in life" was their highest goal. In his own experience as a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps, he witnessed man falling to the depths of depravity, but also reaching the highest levels of faith and goodness despite suffering.

In Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning, Frankl argues: "Rather than being concerned with any inner condition, be it pleasure or homeostasis, man is oriented toward the world out there and within this world, he is interested in meanings to fulfill and in other human beings… He knows he is actualizing himself precisely to the extent to which he is forgetting himself and he is forgetting himself by giving himself, be it through service to a cause higher than himself, or loving a person other than himself. Truly self-transcendence is the essence of human existence.

"The more he forgets himself by giving to causes of another person the more human he is. And the more he is immersed and absorbed in something or someone other than himself, the more he really becomes himself. "

Moreover, the boredom and apathy so prevalent in our society is because "man's will to meaning is frustrated on a worldwide scale. People are haunted by a feeling of meaninglessness which is often accompanied by a feeling of emptiness…"

Frankl's theory, developed decades ago, still rings true in our times. How, then, according to his system, does man find this elusive "meaning"? How can we define what "meaning" is?

This is where Frankl seems to get stuck.

"Meaning must be found and cannot be given. To try to give meaning would amount to moralizing…. Morals will no longer define what is good and what is bad in terms of what one should do and what one must not do. What is good will be defined as that which fosters the meaning fulfillment of a being. And what is bad will be defined as that which hinders this meaning fulfillment.

"The Logotherapist leaves it to the patient to decide what is meaningful and what is not, or for that matter, what is good and what is bad…

"Meaning must be found by one's own conscience. Conscience may be defined as a means to discover meanings, to 'sniff them out' as it were."

But in giving the conscience the power to lead us to meaning, Frankl acknowledges that it "may also lead us astray. Conscience may err, and I cannot know for certain whether my conscience is right and another's conscience, which tells him something different is wrong, or whether the reverse is true. Not that there is no truth: there is. And there can be only one truth. But no one can be absolutely sure it is he who has arrived at this truth.

"So man can only stick to his conscience, although until he lies on his deathbed, he never knows whether it is the true meaning his conscience mediates to him."

In his reluctance or inability to define objective morality, Frankl falls short of providing a path toward finding meaning. To him, there is "one truth" but he fails to access or define it. All meaning and morality becomes necessarily subjective.

In his best-selling book, I'm OK—You're OK, Thomas Harris describes the root of this hesitation. "Establishing value judgments has been seen by many in the field of psychology, as an abominable departure from the scientific method to be shunned righteously and at all cost. "

He quotes Nathaniel Branden: "The tragedy of psychology is that values are the one issue specifically banned from its domain. It is not true that merely bringing conflicts into conscious awareness guarantees that patients will resolve them. The answer to moral problems is not self-evident; they require a process of complex philosophical thought and analysis."

As a survivor, Frankl couldn't accept a definition of man as someone who is only motivated by base drives of pleasure or power because he witnessed people who found the greatest wellsprings of faith, compassion and humanity even in the hell of Auschwitz. These were people who viewed their lives and actions as meaningful and purposeful.

But at the same time, Frankl stops short of providing a workable definition for "meaning" or a universal code of morality. For the Nazi oppressors, conscience was non-existent and to the contrary, they may have found their "meaning" according to Frankl's definition by "giving themselves over to a cause" in fulfilling their goal of obliterating the "sub-human" Jews from this world.

As Harris expresses, "If there is no universal 'should' there is no way of saying that that Albert Schweitzer was a better man than Adolf Hitler. If not, the only valid observation we may make is that Albert Schweitzer did such and so, and Adolf Hitler did such and so. Even though we make further notations that Albert Schweitzer saved so and so many lives and Adolf Hitler instigated the death of millions of people, we see this only as statistical markings on the page of history and discount any relevance of ethical reflection toward the modification of human behavior. The worth of people, or persons, after all, cannot be proven scientifically. Albert Schweitzer thought he was right. Adolf Hitler thought he was right. That they were both right is an obvious contradiction. But by what standard do we determine who was right?"

Frankl succeeds in broadening our perspective on man to see the human psyche as more than mere component drives. He powerfully portrays a deeper, more spiritual foundation of man, expressed through his longing for meaning and transcendence. He convincingly argues that even in suffering, pain or death, man can discover this meaning. Yet, even Frankl with his spiritual and conscience-oriented ideology fails to provide direction on how to access this meaning and how to define an objective morality.

So, in my mind's eye, I can see a time in the future when I'll still be driving down the street and noticing the billboards. But rather than trying to sell products to consumers by catering to their base drives for power or pleasure, these billboards will be advertising a path to greater meaning and transcendence.

But until that time, I can't help but wonder: is it at all possible for science or psychology to meld with religion and come to a workable, universal definition on what is objective morality?

Perhaps if we could find an answer to this elusive question, finding meaning in our lives would be more accessible to us all.

Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad ... Listen Israel, G‑d is our L‑rd, G‑d is One.

These words are a highlight of our daily prayers, expressing powerful pearls of faith.

These words have been whispered throughout the ages, in times of grave challenge, in dark hidden cellars, by those breathing their last breath, at an auto da fé in Spain or a gas chamber in Nazi Germany.

These are also words of hope and happiness, sung in joy while celebrating significant milestones.

But I didn't expect to read these Hebrew words in a timeless best-selling classic, a psychology book that has been touted by the Library of Congress as one of the ten most influential books in America.

Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl has sold more than twelve million copies worldwide. Frankl describes his experiences in the Nazi concentration camps, but more than his travails, he writes as a psychologist about what provided him with the strength to survive.

Frankl poignantly describes how prisoners who gave up on life and hope for a future were inevitably the first to die. They died less from lack of food than from lack of something to live for. By contrast, Frankl kept himself alive by thinking of his wife, and dreaming of lecturing about how his experiences reinforced what was already a central part of his thesis before entering the camps – that the primary motivational force of every person is a search for meaning.

Frankl's autobiographical memoir is followed by an outline of his therapeutic doctrine of curing the soul by finding meaning in life. His theory gains credence from the backdrop of his personal experiences in the concentration camps and how he found meaning while confronting his suffering.

A strong underlying thread throughout his book is the strength, fortitude and love that he drew not only from memories of his wife, but from his faith.

As he asserts in his book, Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning: "G‑d is not dead, not even 'after Auschwitz.' For belief in G‑d is unconditional or it is not belief at all. If it is unconditional it will stand and face the fact that six million died in the Nazi Holocaust; if it is not unconditional then it will fall away if only a single innocent child has to die...There is no point in bargaining with G‑d, say by arguing: 'Up to six thousand or even one million victims in the Holocaust I maintain my belief in Thee; but from one million upward nothing can be done any longer, and I am sorry but I must renounce my belief in Thee...A weak faith is weakened by predicaments and catastrophes, whereas a strong faith is strengthened by them."

Shortly after arriving at Auschwitz, Frankl was stripped of his most precious possession—a manuscript that was his life's work, which he had hidden in his coat pocket. Realizing that the odds of his survival were small, "no more than one in twenty-eight," he had what he describes as "perhaps his deepest experience in the concentration camps."

"I had to undergo and overcome the loss of my mental child. And now it seemed as if nothing and no one would survive me; neither a physical nor a mental child of my own. So I found myself confronted with the question whether under such circumstances my life was ultimately void of meaning.

"Not yet did I notice that an answer to this question with which I was wrestling so passionately was already in store for me, and that soon thereafter this answer would be given to me. This was the case when I had to surrender my clothes and in turn inherited the worn-out rags of an inmate who had already been sent to the gas chamber...Instead of the many pages of my manuscript, I found in a pocket of the newly acquired coat one single page torn out of a Hebrew prayer book, containing the most important Jewish prayer, Shema Yisroel. How should I have interpreted such a "coincidence" other than as a challenge to live my thoughts instead of merely putting them on paper?"

And then in the concluding sentence of this best-selling book that has been translated into twenty-four languages, Frankl again draws on this timeless proclamation of faith.

"Our generation is realistic, for we have come to know man as he really is. After all, man is that being who invented the gas chambers of Auschwitz; however, he is also that being who entered those gas chambers upright with the L‑rd's prayer or the Shema Yisroel on his lips."

What is it about the Shema Yisroel prayer that has inspired so many through the most trying of times and has provided such meaning and purpose to help us survive even the most despairing circumstances?

I think aside from its simple assertion of belief in a single Higher power and the deep mystical meaning hidden within the words of this special prayer, there are four key psychological elements that have made it our bedrock of faith:

1) Relevance: Listen, Israel—A religion or way of life cannot start and end with theories; it must also address the humanness within us. The Shema does not begin in the realm of ideology, in the heavens, with a depersonalized statement of faith. It speaks by addressing each and every one of us. Listen, Israel, listen to this message, and make it a part of your being, because this is not speaking above you, not at you, but calling to you.

2) Belonging: The Shema prayer is in plural ("our G‑d" and not "my G‑d"), spoken as a collective group, addressing us all as Israelites. Human beings have a need to identify with one another. We gain strength from one another and fortitude from being a part of something greater than ourselves. More attractive than ideology is a sense of belonging to one extended family – despite barriers. That sense of community is one of our strongest assets.

3) Personalization: G‑d is our G‑d. G‑d is "ours." G‑d who is transcendental and infinite is also our personal G‑d who is with us at every moment in time, holding our hand in times of celebration as well as times of despair. G‑d is not just an objective ruler, who created and regulates the cosmos. He is "ours," near to us, subjectively understanding the deepest part of ourselves, more than we do; He is with us in times of need, joy and pain.

4) Individuality: As much as we all need a sense of belonging and community, we must not negate our individual differences. The Shema statement ends with the words "G‑d is one" (rather than G‑d is "singular" or "alone"). The oneness of G‑d is present within the diversity of the world. As the Chassidic masters have said, "There is nothing other than Him." While conformity stunts growth, the "oneness of G‑d" should empower us to discover and cultivate the G‑dly oneness and uniqueness within each of us.

A basis of Frankl's theory is that forces beyond our control can take away everything we possess except one thing—our freedom to choose how we will respond to the situation.

After describing the anguish of his experiences in Auschwitz, Frankl concludes his personal memoir: "The crowning experience of all, for the homecoming man, is the wonderful feeling that after all he has suffered, there is nothing he need fear any more—except his G‑d."

That can become our most empowering credo.