God is a metaphor

There’s a new trend in Judaism and I’m all in. Well, it’s only new when you think of it in terms of the full sweep of history. Secular humanistic Judaism has actually been around for a few centuries.

In 1677, the philosopher Baruch Spinoza was excommunicated from the Jewish community in Amsterdam for his belief that God was not a personal being, but rather an infinite intellect, present in all things. Long before Spinoza, and long after him, people like me—like you, maybe, too?—have craved cultural belonging but have struggled with believing in a personified God.

So, here we are again, at High Holiday time. Jews around the world are even more conflicted than usual. And yet, we gather together because it’s our tradition.

In her Rosh Hashana sermon at Denver’s Judaism Your Way, Rabbi Karen Aviv said, God is a metaphor. She suggested that the old Judeo-Christian image of God is no longer relevant (if it ever was): A man on a throne who is king; who offers rewards if we’re good and punishes or shames us if we make mistakes. That kind of God just isn’t cool. Especially to a woman rabbi.

Then she called upon several members of the congregation to come up to the bimah (the stage) to recite their own metaphorical options of what is holy: God is a nursing child. God is a rainbow. God is the moon. God is a song. And maybe my favorite: God is words.

Today, more than half of the world’s Jews define themselves as secular. We’re a motley crew of casual observers, converts, atheists, lapsed Jews, and the Jew-curious. I think it’s time we own our confusion.

So this year, I’m spending the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—known as the Days of Awe—bingeing the latest hot rabbi show (on HBO Max). The show, Reformed, was inspired by the bestselling memoir by Delphine Horvilleur, Living With Our Dead: On Loss and Consolation, which was published in the U.S. in 2024. To this day, Horvilleur is one of very few female rabbis in France.

From the first five minutes, I knew it was awesome!

The main character, Rabbi Lea, helps people through life-cycle events with deeply human interpretations of what she has learned. Lea happens to be the Hebrew name I chose in honor of Leo, my ambivalently Jewish father (and now the name of my son), when I converted many years ago. He would have scoffed at my choice, because why convert when deep-down already knew I was Jewish (though my mother was not)?

In the show, Lea’s father does more than just scoff. He mocks her. In the first episode, he growls: “There was Galileo, Freud, Auschwitz. I thought the problem was solved. God doesn’t exist.” He wants her to go back to medical school. Lady doctors are far less intimidating than lady rabbis, he tells her.

But still, Lea goes about her business. Trying to bring clarity to the confused. Isn’t that what I try to do, in my own feeble way, with this blog?

Anyway, all this reminds me of the time I inadvertently ruined a budding friendship. All because I couldn’t contain my skepticism.

Lori was beautiful and creative and she had faith. She made a living painting whimsical post cards and greeting cards in vibrant colors. Each one featured a woman with a spring in her step. And a positive affirmation. Her heart fell open onto every page.

She invited me to her apartment, and after a few glasses of wine she took her God Box out from under the bed. It contained magazine clippings and sketches of all the things she would be able to afford after she scored a major contract with Target. She imagined that banners featuring her artwork would hang in every location. I remember saying, Wow, that’s kind of a long shot, don’t you think? Then I got practical, offering to connect her with friends at an ad agency who might be able to open some doors.

Immediately, she cancelled me. She asked me to leave. Because, she said, I had no faith. That moment has haunted me for 20 years. But now I think I understand.

What if Target was a metaphor? And the God Box too?

If God is in all things, maybe I—maybe we—just need to choose a symbol. Or more than one.

The ocean. A forest. A tree. A perfectly heart-shaped cloud in a bluebird sky.

And believe in the beauty of that.