If there isnāt a God calling us to behave in a particular way, what else is there?
In an articleĀ published by 51³Ō¹Ļ, rabbi-in-training Jeremy Sher argues: āFaith itself is more important than the God that the faith professes to be in.ā For Sher, God doesnāt exist ā at least not in any of the ways we normally use the word. God is not like the sun or Mount Rainier or Justin Bieberās pants, nor any other physical object that we could enumerate or imagine. Instead, God names a way of being.
On one level, Sherās approach is refreshing. Rather than trying to defend God on nonsensical metaphysical terms, heās taking a subtler approach ā arguing for an understanding of God that is much less about some thing up in the sky, and much more about how we move through the world and understand our own experience.
On another level, though, Sher hasnāt left traditional metaphysics as far behind as he thinks. In what follows, Iāll argue that Sherās theology depends on the very beliefs he claims not to hold. Sher may not be a believer in the traditional sense, but heās still trading in the emotional currency of a long-discredited theology.
Kind of Feeling
Sher writes: āI am a person of faith, a believer. My faith transcends boundaries and resists definition.ā He then approvingly quotes a letter from VaƧlav Havel to his wife, in which the future Czech president writes: āFaith … is usually āfaith in something,ā but that āsomethingā is not the decisive factor … a challenge to which would either shake the faith or require a rapid change of fetish. Genuine faith is original, primal and discrete; it precedes its object (if it has one).ā
Faith, then, isnāt first and foremost about an object ā itās a kind of feeling, an orientation toward the world. And this faith, Sher repeats, āis more important than the āGodā that the faith professes to be in.ā In fact, worrying too much about whether God exists involves a sacrifice of the āgenuine faithā that Sher wants to talk about.
But before saying what genuine faith is, Sher describes what faith isnāt.
The first category is āfaith thatā ā the belief that a particular statement āobtains as factā (God exists, everything turns out for the best, etc.). If these statements turn out to be incorrect, Sher writes, the believerās faith is āshaken,ā proving that such faith isnātāstrongā to begin with.
Surprisingly, Sher argues that these varieties of faith ārequire little participation on the part of the believer; they are just a pile of propositions that the believer believes are true.ā
I disagree. Questions of fact may sometimes be black or white, but beliefs about those questions rarely are. Instead, beliefs shift and fluctuate; sometimes, they behave like particles, taking shape only after weāve gone looking for them. Theyāre the sort of things that depend on our moods, that we prefix with ākindaā and āmore-or-less.ā Itās the rare believer who believes cleanly, without doubt or uncertainty; many believers put enormous amounts of emotional energy into buttressing their faith.
Faith In
Sherās second category is āfaithĀ inā (faithĀ in the scientific method, faithĀ in humanity). Unlike faith that, faith in isnāt propositional, and therefore canāt be proven wrong. Instead, we can continue to invest or place value in people, institutions, and ideas, even after theyāve fallen short of our hopes or expectations.
Sher actually goes further, arguing that faith in āmakes no statement about the world, but it does influence a believerās ideas about how individuals and societies should respond to the world.ā This also seems wrong to me: At least some of the time, we use the phrase āfaith inā as shorthand for probability ā to describe our degree of confidence that the world is a particular way (hospitable to democracy, likely to improve, etc.). In other words, the distinction between faith in and faith that may not be quite as clear as Sher suggests.
In any event, this is where God comes in. Although we talk about āfaith in God,ā Sher thinks this is misleading; God doesnāt exist in the same way that humanity, or the scientific method, or anything else does.
Accordingly, Sher introduces a third type of faith. This final category doesnāt obey the grammatical pattern weāve seen so far (faith + preposition). Instead, Sher writes in more abstract terms: āThis God idea we have is a way for us to access what is most holy and matters most.ā
Here, āGodā isnāt an entity; instead, it names an approach to ethics, and perhaps to life itself. In a Facebook exchange, Sher echoes Rabbi David Cooper: ā[T]he question is not what God does, but what it means āto God.āā Sher elaborates: āIt means a little more than to do the morally right thing, because there is, for me, a sense of cosmic participation in putting the world in order.ā
In other words, Sherās concept of God not only captures the experience of behaving morally ā it also explains why people behave this way. In fact, it āis the reason it is possible for people to engage in selfless risk-taking and self-sacrifice in the service of the greater good.ā
God Calling
I share these values, but why call any of it āGodā? Doing so runs the risk of suggesting that all heroic moral behavior has a metaphysical motivation, as if people who lack a notion of God canāt take great risks or sacrifice themselves for others.
I know this isnāt what Sher means, of course. But for someone like me ā raised outside the Jewish tradition that he calls home ā I canāt help but find the language distracting.
Now, maybe āour difference is only stylistic,ā as Sher recently suggested to me. But I think there might be a bit more going on: I think Sher is leaning on God to backstop his own values. Not directly, of course ā again, Sher doesnāt believe in God as a metaphysical entity. (āNo indeed, not whatsoever, not a chance.ā) But consider how he ends his article: ā[T]he happiness or suffering of humanity and our living Earth matters: I have faith in that. Morality matters despite the rampant alienation of cruelty and the absurdity of mass indifference: I believe that. Responsibility matters because we are responsible beings, and we are called to take responsibility one for the other: to which I say yes, hallelujah, amen.ā
Itās gorgeous rhetoric, and I agree ā all of this matters very much. But what does it mean to say that weāre ācalledā to responsibility? Called by whom? It canāt be some being called “God,” since Sher has already rejected that possibility.Ā And even if there were a God up there, how would we know heās worth listening to? As many religious ethicists have pointed out, only by checking Godās demands against our own consciences.
But if there isnāt a God calling us to behave in a particular way, what else is there?
Nothing ā itās just us down here. We are the source of Sherās calls. We are both the called and the callers. We are the source of our own values.
This isnāt a novel point: Nietzsche made these arguments 130 years ago, and philosophers since have expanded on them in a hundred directions. Whatās so interesting about Sher is that it seems like heās on the verge of accepting them, too ā but just at the last minute, he blinks.
Instead, he tries to have his cake and eat it too ā disowning bad metaphysics while smuggling metaphysically-valenced language into a very human set of values.
Thatās not to reject poetry, of course. But it is to suggest that Jeremy Sherās argument isnāt ultimately about faith or God ā itās about Jeremy Sher. His articleĀ is a brief glimpse into the workings of his own mind: brilliant, creative, but perhaps a bit fearful, too.
Perhaps Iām reading him wrong. Itās always dangerous to psychologize, especially with someone youāve never met. But when I try to make sense of the dissonance in Sherās account of faith, I canāt escape the feeling that his emotions are driving his argument ā in particular, his discomfort with the idea that human beings are alone in this world.
Thatās a tough pill to swallow, and Iām certainly not finished trembling at its implications. But itās also just how things are. Sher seems to resist this conclusion; he seems to feel that human beings require validation from elsewhere ā as if weāre somehow insufficient on our own.
And so I would ask, why? Why this need for back-door sanctification? Why this concern with recovering the grandeur of a dead metaphysics? Why so little faith in your fellow human beings?
We bring you perspectives from around the world. Help us to inform and educate. Your donation is tax-deductible. Join over 400 people to become a donor or you could choose to be a sponsor.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51³Ō¹Ļ’s editorial policy.
Photo Credit: Ģż/ /
Support 51³Ō¹Ļ
We rely on your support for our independence, diversity and quality.
For more than 10 years, 51³Ō¹Ļ has been free, fair and independent. No billionaire owns us, no advertisers control us. We are a reader-supported nonprofit. Unlike many other publications, we keep our content free for readers regardless of where they live or whether they can afford to pay. We have no paywalls and no ads.
In the post-truth era of fake news, echo chambers and filter bubbles, we publish a plurality of perspectives from around the world. Anyone can publish with us, but everyone goes through a rigorous editorial process. So, you get fact-checked, well-reasoned content instead of noise.
We publish 3,000+ voices from 90+ countries. We also conduct education and training programs
on subjects ranging from digital media and journalism to writing and critical thinking. This
doesnāt come cheap. Servers, editors, trainers and web developers cost
money.
Please consider supporting us on a regular basis as a recurring donor or a
sustaining member.
Will you support FOās journalism?
We rely on your support for our independence, diversity and quality.











Comment