Tag Archives: disability

Becoming disabled by chronic illness turned me into an atheist.

Maybe not in the way you might expect. There was no epiphany of God having forsaken me, as I was never close enough with a formal version of God to feel forsaken by him. And I haven’t even read anything by Dawkins yet. I was raised by two Brooklynites whose Judaism was found in their heritage, not in their religious practice, and only my mother was active in my religious education, because her father wanted it. This consisted of Sunday school where I learned a smattering of Hebrew and a lot about the many—many—Jewish holidays, and the observation of a few of those holidays at home. The focus was either on food, presents, or loved ones who had died, not Yahweh. I worshiped at my grandmother’s table groaning with blintzes and matzoh ball soup, not at shul.

In college I spent more time with Grandma, listening more closely to her oft-repeated stories of our family. I also developed a broader historical and literary interest in Judaism after taking a course in Holocaust literature from writer and survivor Aharon Appelfeld. Nothing I learned, however, brought me closer to God or clarified my personal belief system.

Congregation Beth Shalom replaces traditional Star of David imagery with a nice bowl of Jewish penicillin.

When I lived in San Francisco, a dozen years ago, I made a weak stab at trying to find a synagogue to attend. It had to do with loneliness more than anything else, feeling isolated from my East Coast family and seeking a connection with other Jews. When I moved to Los Angeles, I found an unconventionally interesting temple, and began telling myself that I should chat with the (female) rabbi concerning how to become a member of a Jewish congregation, or even just check out services some Friday. The place was even within walking distance, which for an East Coast girl in L.A. should have been the shofar call that drew me to temple. And yet I never went.

A few years later, around the same time I was reading a lot of books by Stephen Jay Gould and other science writing, I read Why People Believe Weird Things by Michael Shermer and there I found my epiphany: when it came to belief systems, “skeptic” fit me just as well as “Jewish.” I joined the Skeptic Society and began reading and learning more about the subject. What finally tipped the scales for me was the increasing severity of my CFS and the likelihood that I would have to stop working. While struggling with secondary depression and casting about for something to hang onto as pieces of my life were slowly chipping away, I started thinking again about going to talk to the rabbi of that temple. And, again, I never did. But this time, I began considering why I believed I was interested in doing this, but never took action. When I decided I wanted to talk to a disability therapist, a few months later I was in therapy. Why hadn’t I gotten around to this yet?

That’s how I finally understood one day that I had been atheist for longer than I even remember. I didn’t choose atheism nor did anyone persuade me into it; I just realized that I did not believe in God. And then I found I was no longer struggling to reconcile my beliefs, my vague spirituality with my firm views on skepticism and science. Many people who “find God” say that when it happened, the world suddenly made sense to them. I had the same experience when I finally let go of my last vestiges of faith.

Atheist but still a Jew. Feel free to pray for me. (Part 2)