God Doesn’t Exist. There, I Said It!
And it took me years to admit it.
The first image I have of God was when I was probably somewhere around five years old. I was in Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital and was at some sort of art activity in a large room. Hanging on the wall was a painting of an old man in a white robe sitting on a throne with a book on his lap and a quill pen in his hand. Someone told me that was God, keeping track of our good and bad deeds, so that we hopefully would get into heaven when we died.
I was awfully scared and told the art teacher that I didn’t like God! I don’t know if that event had anything to do with my ultimate lack of belief but it certainly could have played a subconscious role!
I didn’t grow up in a religious home and God was never a “member” of our household. There wasn’t, however, any talk of God not existing. When we said prayers at all (over the Chanukah candles, at events where there was a blessing over the wine or challah) we always said the “God version.” (To this day, I still do because that’s what is familiar, even if I don’t believe the words).
It would have been unthinkable for a Jewish girl to not believe in God! I mean, how can you be Jewish and atheist at the same time?
When I was a teenager, I was with a group of my friends talking about a school assignment where we all had to answer questions about our religions. We were Jewish, Catholic and various denominations of Protestant and we were talking about what each of our religions preached about several religious issues including God, heaven and hell. I could explain (very basically) what Judaism’s beliefs were in those areas but they didn’t fit with my beliefs. I said that for me God was my conscience and not a “man on a throne” deciding who was good enough to join him in heaven.
But I wasn’t ready to “come out” fully. I wasn’t ready to give up the concept of God, even if he wasn’t in the form of a person to me. One of my Protestant friends told me that I was going to hell because 1) I didn’t believe in the “actuality” of God and 2) because I hadn’t accepted Jesus as my savior. For years after, she tried to save me — as she did all of our Jewish friends! Because Jews don’t believe in hell that was really an empty threat for me. Because I didn’t believe in heaven or hell I wasn’t really worried.
When I went to college I would go to High Holiday services at a conservative temple. That was the first time I really felt like a phony. Sitting, standing, listening to prayers in a language I didn’t read or understand, singing songs to a god I didn’t believe in. But I continued to go (and even taught one year of first grade Sunday school at the temple) because, after all, what was the option? I was Jewish and I didn’t know that I could express my Jewishness in other than a religious way.
Larry and I got married in a conservative (bordering on modern orthodox) temple, not because of our beliefs but because it had a catering hall we liked! But, with the caterer came the rabbi who needed to be assured that we would keep a kosher home (we lied). The ceremony was very religious but I think that may have been the only time I didn’t feel uncomfortable because it was such a beautiful ceremony — and I was sort of just floating through it anyway!
When our daughter, Sarah, was ready for school, we sent her to Hebrew Day School more because we didn’t like the public school in our neighborhood than because we wanted her to have a Jewish education. We attended every holiday service and had (more or less) religious home observances. I had a Shabbat dinner every Friday night, complete with candles and challah from Great Harvest and I made “Maxwell House” seders. (Maxwell House Coffee gave away free traditional haggadahs when you bought matzo). We celebrated Chanukah and, although we gave the kids small gifts each night, the emphasis was on the candle lighting.
Sarah left HDS after first grade and in order for the kids to have a Jewish education we joined Beth Israel, the conservative congregation in our town. Since Larry had grown up in a conservative temple I thought that was the only option he would be comfortable with. Once again though, I felt dishonest and hated going. I didn’t understand anything, didn’t believe the words of the English translations, and it didn’t help that I didn’t feel accepted by the people at the temple.
Somewhere during this time, I found the Jewish Cultural Society and I went every year to High Holiday services while Larry took the kids to Beth Israel. I finally could celebrate my Jewishness in other than a religious way. I discovered cultural observation and realized that all along, as I was making quasi-religious observances at home, what I was already doing was adapting the religious aspects of Judaism into something comfortable for me.
I came to realize that I could be an authentic Jew without belief in a deity. I didn’t have to say the god words in order to sincerely be Jewish.
But, I still didn’t say I was an atheist. That word had (and still has for many) a negative connotation and I thought that admitting that would be troublesome to those I loved.
At first, I said I was an agnostic, not knowing whether there was a god. Then I heard the word “ignostic,” coined by Rabbi Sherwin Wine who founded Secular Humanistic Judaism, which meant that it didn’t really matter to me whether there was a god or not. I went along for a time as an ignostic, though, not really caring whether god existed but knowing that I didn’t need him in my life.
As I learned more about secular Judaism I became more and more comfortable as a Secular Humanist Jew rather than a sham religious Jew. And, as I moved further away from religious observance and into cultural Judaism, I became more comfortable admitting that I was an atheist. I had finally come out of the closet!
