Thank you so much, Derek, for publishing this excerpt from Beyond Belief. I'm grateful to share this excerpt with your community and to explore these ideas alongside readers who are thinking seriously about faith, doubt, and practice.
I'm particularly curious about others' experiences: What role does prayer or ritual play in your own life, even if it sits uneasily with your beliefs? And more broadly—I'd love to hear from readers: What draws you to prayer or keeps you away from it? Have any of you tried the practice despite your skepticism and found it shifted something? I'm interested in the stories, questions, and pushback.
If you're exploring these themes further, you can find more in Beyond Belief (available for preorder now at geni.us/beyondbelief) or visit my Substack for ongoing conversations about belief and behavior.
I consciously practice hope over despair. I especially appreciated Father Adrian’s emphasis on community. It makes me wonder whether some of the anger and alienation we’re seeing today comes from drifting away from shared spaces of meaning, whether spiritual, civic, or informal, where people are held, heard, and reminded they’re not alone.
People often define faith as an absence of doubt or as a conviction not to change beliefs regardless of evidence. I don’t think either of these concepts is helpful. I prefer to define belief as the decision to act as if something is proven, even though you know that proof is impossible. Faith is not having a backup plan.
By this definition, human life depends on faith. There’s far too much to do every single day for us to worry about and plan for what might happen if any one of our decisions goes wrong. You can and should have contingencies for a few big risks, but most of your daily life rests on faith that you know how your world works.
This faith is also not opposed to evidence. In fact, it rests on evidence. You have faith when you decide the evidence is enough, even though it can never be complete. When the evidence changes, change your belief. My car starts reliably every morning. I have faith in it, not blindly, but because it has been reliable in the past. I don’t have a backup car or a standing agreement with a friend to catch a ride to work. But if my car fails to start a few times, I don’t cling to my faith in it. I get it fixed or replace it.
It is possible to maintain a sense of spirituality while still being an atheist. I became a disbeliever when first reading about the Holocaust at our Reform Jewish religious school. That something so evil could take place was clear proof, at least to me, that the God of Torah does not exist. I have often said that the closest 'proof' of God's existence comes through the works of Bach or the painters of the Italian Renaissance whose spirituality was key. We have lay led Shabat services every other week at our Temple that I participate in as a service leader and find that there are plenty of readings that can inspire one to do better. This Saturday I will do the commentary on Parashat Miketz, the passage that describes Joseph's interpretation of Pharoh's dream. I'll post it on my Substack for those interested.
Like you, I have long been a "cultural Jew" far more than a religious one. But in recent years for a variety of reasons - I decided to fill what I felt was a very real spiritual hole in my life. So I went out and bought a daily prayer book, to see if I could reconnect.
Today, and every morning, I put on Bach or Beethoven or Brahms (or some other fitting classical composer), a yarmulke and recite the morning shacharit. Some days it's more moving than others, some days more perfunctory -- but I always, always feel more fulfilled and more human afterwards. I am still far from certain in my faith, and stray hard from the rules and regulations that govern the more orthodox.
So why pray? In a world that lacks any sort of daily certainty, or sense of ordered morality - it is always good to be reminded daily that the Lord reigns, the Lord has reigned and the Lord will reign forever and ever. To recite psalm 146 is to be reminded us not to trust in princes, but in a God who "performs justice for the exploited", "gives bread to the hungry", "protects Strangers" and who welcomes "musical songs of praise".
Martin Buber's "I and Thou" helped me understand the personal nature of humanity's relationship with god. To recognize that there is a world we cannot see, but can always feel -- that is the beginning of prayer. Reciting the Shema in times of stress or joy is an involuntary recognition of that world. To pray, or to closely listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto, or to perform an act of service - is accessing that world with intent.
You need not have all the throat cleaning of understanding Hebrew, or the sages, or the Torah or Talmud to begin. Those things are there to help deepen understanding (and sometimes confound it) But prayer only needs focus, intent and a feeling/recognition that there is so much more than this crude material world.
Very nice article....with stunning research included (as always from Derek).
This fits into one of our strong beliefs. To be a Christian is not to follow this rule, that rule, don't do this, don't do that, reeeeepent. Worship God....or else.
Instead, what it means to be a Christian is contained in the Sermon on the Mount, which is basically a prayer to God to help us love our fellow man. It's calming, reassuring, and gives us hope.
Hope that within a world of brutality and savagery, for eons, someone could actually come up with this Sermon? How can this be unless it is somehow inspired by someone/something greater than us? It is a true miracle.
This was a very thought-provoking read. I would be interested in a more carefully delineated comparison of the evidence for psychological benefits of prayer "to" something/someone external versus meditation practices that do not imply any external being or force. And similarly, between any prayer or meditation practice (externally directed or not) that is rooted in a long-standing cultural tradition versus prayer or meditation practices that are developed idiosyncratically by the individual.
I also have a speculation that one thing prayer might be -- specifically prayer directed at an external benevolent agent or force (regardless of whether such a thing is proven) -- is a cultural adaptation that serves as a corrective against our evolutionarily-based negativity bias.
Thank you so much, Derek, for publishing this excerpt from Beyond Belief. I'm grateful to share this excerpt with your community and to explore these ideas alongside readers who are thinking seriously about faith, doubt, and practice.
I'm particularly curious about others' experiences: What role does prayer or ritual play in your own life, even if it sits uneasily with your beliefs? And more broadly—I'd love to hear from readers: What draws you to prayer or keeps you away from it? Have any of you tried the practice despite your skepticism and found it shifted something? I'm interested in the stories, questions, and pushback.
If you're exploring these themes further, you can find more in Beyond Belief (available for preorder now at geni.us/beyondbelief) or visit my Substack for ongoing conversations about belief and behavior.
Looking forward to the discussion!
I consciously practice hope over despair. I especially appreciated Father Adrian’s emphasis on community. It makes me wonder whether some of the anger and alienation we’re seeing today comes from drifting away from shared spaces of meaning, whether spiritual, civic, or informal, where people are held, heard, and reminded they’re not alone.
People often define faith as an absence of doubt or as a conviction not to change beliefs regardless of evidence. I don’t think either of these concepts is helpful. I prefer to define belief as the decision to act as if something is proven, even though you know that proof is impossible. Faith is not having a backup plan.
By this definition, human life depends on faith. There’s far too much to do every single day for us to worry about and plan for what might happen if any one of our decisions goes wrong. You can and should have contingencies for a few big risks, but most of your daily life rests on faith that you know how your world works.
This faith is also not opposed to evidence. In fact, it rests on evidence. You have faith when you decide the evidence is enough, even though it can never be complete. When the evidence changes, change your belief. My car starts reliably every morning. I have faith in it, not blindly, but because it has been reliable in the past. I don’t have a backup car or a standing agreement with a friend to catch a ride to work. But if my car fails to start a few times, I don’t cling to my faith in it. I get it fixed or replace it.
It is possible to maintain a sense of spirituality while still being an atheist. I became a disbeliever when first reading about the Holocaust at our Reform Jewish religious school. That something so evil could take place was clear proof, at least to me, that the God of Torah does not exist. I have often said that the closest 'proof' of God's existence comes through the works of Bach or the painters of the Italian Renaissance whose spirituality was key. We have lay led Shabat services every other week at our Temple that I participate in as a service leader and find that there are plenty of readings that can inspire one to do better. This Saturday I will do the commentary on Parashat Miketz, the passage that describes Joseph's interpretation of Pharoh's dream. I'll post it on my Substack for those interested.
Thank you so, so much for this beautiful piece.
Like you, I have long been a "cultural Jew" far more than a religious one. But in recent years for a variety of reasons - I decided to fill what I felt was a very real spiritual hole in my life. So I went out and bought a daily prayer book, to see if I could reconnect.
Today, and every morning, I put on Bach or Beethoven or Brahms (or some other fitting classical composer), a yarmulke and recite the morning shacharit. Some days it's more moving than others, some days more perfunctory -- but I always, always feel more fulfilled and more human afterwards. I am still far from certain in my faith, and stray hard from the rules and regulations that govern the more orthodox.
So why pray? In a world that lacks any sort of daily certainty, or sense of ordered morality - it is always good to be reminded daily that the Lord reigns, the Lord has reigned and the Lord will reign forever and ever. To recite psalm 146 is to be reminded us not to trust in princes, but in a God who "performs justice for the exploited", "gives bread to the hungry", "protects Strangers" and who welcomes "musical songs of praise".
Martin Buber's "I and Thou" helped me understand the personal nature of humanity's relationship with god. To recognize that there is a world we cannot see, but can always feel -- that is the beginning of prayer. Reciting the Shema in times of stress or joy is an involuntary recognition of that world. To pray, or to closely listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto, or to perform an act of service - is accessing that world with intent.
You need not have all the throat cleaning of understanding Hebrew, or the sages, or the Torah or Talmud to begin. Those things are there to help deepen understanding (and sometimes confound it) But prayer only needs focus, intent and a feeling/recognition that there is so much more than this crude material world.
Very nice article....with stunning research included (as always from Derek).
This fits into one of our strong beliefs. To be a Christian is not to follow this rule, that rule, don't do this, don't do that, reeeeepent. Worship God....or else.
Instead, what it means to be a Christian is contained in the Sermon on the Mount, which is basically a prayer to God to help us love our fellow man. It's calming, reassuring, and gives us hope.
Hope that within a world of brutality and savagery, for eons, someone could actually come up with this Sermon? How can this be unless it is somehow inspired by someone/something greater than us? It is a true miracle.
This was a very thought-provoking read. I would be interested in a more carefully delineated comparison of the evidence for psychological benefits of prayer "to" something/someone external versus meditation practices that do not imply any external being or force. And similarly, between any prayer or meditation practice (externally directed or not) that is rooted in a long-standing cultural tradition versus prayer or meditation practices that are developed idiosyncratically by the individual.
I also have a speculation that one thing prayer might be -- specifically prayer directed at an external benevolent agent or force (regardless of whether such a thing is proven) -- is a cultural adaptation that serves as a corrective against our evolutionarily-based negativity bias.