It must have been about 10 years ago when I was lecturing at a retirement community in South Florida. Before the lecture a man in his 80s came up to the podium.
“Rabbi,” he said, “I fought in World War II and was a liberator of Dachau. When we approached the wire fence of the camp, the stench of rotting flesh entered my nostrils. It was horrible. It was then that I lost my faith in God. I have been an atheist ever since.”
What could I say? Had I been in his boots that day, my reaction might have been the same. “I understand how you feel, sir. My father was a sergeant of a heavy machine-gun squad in the 97th Infantry Division and he was a liberator, too. But his experiences encountering survivors and discovering a synagogue that had been destroyed in Kristallnacht – they only strengthened his faith. I imagine that it depends on the individual. But thank you for your honesty.” He thanked me, shook my hand, and took his seat.
I am neither an atheist nor an agnostic. I am not a materialist. But I remember the liberator at Dachau and what he told me. For me, being a rabbi and a Jew in the 21st century is not “business as usual.” I have questions. I have doubts.
At the age of seven, I was enthralled by astronomy and space exploration. I scribbled letters to the Palomar and Lowell Observatories, the Hayden Planetarium, and NASA. At the same time, I was studying Genesis with Rashi in yeshiva day school. At that young age, I saw no conflict between the science of the cosmologist and the account of creation in Beresheet. Which account is correct? Is the universe 5782 years old or is it 13 billion years old and still expanding?
I simply will not build a “fortress” around the Five Books of Moses and not ask questions because I am forbidden to do so. I am an individual human being who thinks and I want to know the facts. I will never abandon my Jewish heritage just because the world was not created by God in six days as was described in the Torah.
On these High Holy Days, I will usher in the New Year 5782 with my congregation. Yes, there will always be doubts. There will always be the science and the history. But doubt is not toxic. It is the sign of a healthy mind.
Think of the Tower of Babel. I don’t believe it is the source of diversity of human language. Does that mean I dismiss the Torah account? There is much that is relevant to modern reality in this account. Its lesson is that human beings should never strive to be God. In an age of Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot and Al-Qaeda this is a relevant message.
These extremists stole the power of God to murder tens of millions of human beings. And today, who questions the speed of the technologies we are developing? Religion should ask those questions. Should not the Tower of Babel warn us about human hubris and the human striving for divine power?
My Modern Orthodox upbringing was enriching and memorable. But I have always had questions – the historicity of the Hebrew Bible or the treatment of women (who are vibrant in the Tanach) in the synagogue. At 57, I cannot believe in the same God I believed in at 17. I have had to tear down the orthodoxies of my youth and rebuild a faith with which I can live. I yearn for the God who clothed Adam and Eve in Eden and with whom Abraham bargained for the lives of the denizens of Sodom and Gomorrah.
The Man of Faith is not lonely. He has the comfort of knowing that God is with him through the Sinai Covenant. He has a community. Many of my cousins and most of my childhood friends – many who live in Israel – have remained within the realm of Modern Orthodoxy. I respect them and the decisions they have made. I am sure they have questions of their own. While my support for Israel is unwavering, I have gone a different route than they.
The Man of Doubt is lonely. He will ask many questions. He will have few answers. It is his destiny.
The writer is rabbi of Congregation Anshei Sholom in West Palm Beach, Florida.