The Divine || Faith in Flux

In this section, I’ll attempt to explore the age-old question: Who is God? Of course, I’m kidding about solving it—but I’ll try to throw my own spiritual spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks.

Looking back to when I was a pre-teen undergoing "pray the gay away," it’s hard to say whether I genuinely believed in God or if I simply performed belief. At the time, journaling was part of my conversion therapy. These prayer journals were supposed to be a direct line to God and, by proxy, to my youth pastor. But they felt more like a performance. I’d write my hopes and feelings in the context of God listening, but always with the goal of being "fixed" of my gayness. My entries were filled with pleas for girls in my youth group to like me, and for me to like them back. God, in this context, was little more than a wish-granter—and not a very effective one at that.

With a genie-God who seemed indifferent to my prayers, it’s no wonder I began to doubt. I remember voicing my doubts to my youth pastor, only to be chastised: “Don’t be a doubting Thomas.” Journaling became less about God and more about me. I began questioning the premise that God found something wrong with me in the first place. With the help of people like my high school theater teacher and a few close friends, I started detaching from the toxic idea of God as a cosmic problem-solver for a problem that didn’t exist.

Eventually, I rejected the God I’d been taught altogether. There was a definitive moment when I decided not to believe in God, heaven, or hell. On October 9, 2011, in the depths of a major depressive episode, I wrote:

“And where does the L-rd fit in? I have no idea, but He certainly isn’t in anything I’ve written today. Is He in anything I’ve written? Is He at all? I don’t know anymore. If He is somewhere, then maybe He has forgotten me too… He isn’t in my guitar or my hands. I haven’t drawn or felt anything in worship for a while. This is my thought: Either I’m not where He is or He’s not where I am, and I feel like I am an embarrassment to this G-d and His people if I pretend to be in love with Him.”

Two months later, I quoted Huck Finn in my journal: “Alright then. I’ll go to hell.” From that moment on, I wrote not to God but to myself—and I cursed at God and those who had thrown me at Him. My idea of God had shifted dramatically in two journal entries over two months.

Reimagining God Through Judaism

When I turned to Judaism, my concept of God was challenged entirely. Over years of study, I’ve come to feel there is something greater than myself—though I’ve yet to fully define what that is. A pivotal resource for me was Rabbi Rifat Sonsino’s Finding God, which explores a dozen perspectives on God from historical and contemporary thinkers. The book doesn’t deem any one perspective “more Jewish” than the others, emphasizing that all are valid. This openness expanded my thinking and gave me a framework to begin shaping my own beliefs.

Describing God is like trying to shape water. No matter how many barriers you create, the essence remains fluid, shifting based on perspective. I’ve tried to distill my thoughts into two possibilities: (1) if there is a God, and (2) if there is not.

If God Exists

If there is a supernatural being, I don’t believe they resemble the God described in my Sunday school upbringing. For one, assigning gender to God feels trivial. I’ve begun using “they” to describe God—not because I think God is nonbinary, but to challenge the limiting concept of a gendered deity. Gendering God often reflects human biases rather than divine truth. Viewing God as beyond gender allows people of all identities to see themselves in the Divine image.

Next comes the age-old theological question: Is God all-powerful or all-good? Many traditions wrestle with this paradox, and there’s no definitive answer. If God were all-powerful, they could have stopped countless atrocities. If God were all-good, they would have wanted to. Instead, I see God as neither—a being shaped by love, jealousy, and imperfection, much like us.

Take the story of creation. God’s inability to prevent the fall of man suggests limitations. Throughout the Torah, God displays deeply human emotions: anger, regret, even favoritism. These imperfections make God relatable and reflective of the human condition. If we are made in God’s image, then our flaws must come from God as well.

Rather than viewing God as an omnipotent entity, I see them as a universal consciousness—an energy beyond comprehension that connects us to each other and to the world. God isn’t a being we petition for favors but a presence within every good deed and every act of love. They are deeply personal, yet universal.

If God Does Not Exist

When people learn I’m agnostic or atheist, the first question they often ask is, “Where does morality come from without God?” My response is simple: If you need a deity to tell you right from wrong, you have bigger issues. Morality stems from empathy and respect for others. Any action that infringes on another’s rights or dignity is “bad,” regardless of divine oversight.

A world without God doesn’t negate godliness. Acts of kindness, generosity, and love reflect the values we hold sacred. I see godliness every day—in the restaurant worker who serves breakfast with a smile, in a friend’s thoughtful question, even in the surprising kindness of someone I dislike. Godliness exists in actions, not necessarily in a divine being.

What I love about Judaism is its openness to interpretation. The tradition values discussion, disagreement, and mutual respect. Who’s to say my perspective is any more or less valid than someone else’s? As long as we hold shared values of ethical living, the rest is open for exploration.