In Defense of Religion
I still remember listening attentively to a debate between the esteemed philosopher and theologian, Rabbi Sacks, and the distinguished evolutionary biologist and vocal atheist, Richard Dawkins. At some point after calling God a bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser, Dawkins likened religion to child abuse. Indoctrinating children to believe in God, he argued, restricts their freedom to think independently and to choose their own lifestyles.
Of course, my kneejerk reaction to Dawkins’ brash words, sardonic tone, and total lack of respect, was to dismiss his point outright. But after the debate, I thought carefully through his position. Was there a grain of truth buried somewhere in his tactless indictment of religion? Can it really be abusive to raise a child as an Orthodox Jew? After a great deal of critical thought and a fair amount of research, I came to the conclusion, and still believe to this day, that Dawkins’ critique was misguided and wrongheaded.
The main flaw of Dawkins’ argument was his inability to consider the counterfactual. Let me explain: Dawkins argued that kids should be free to choose their lifestyles and beliefs. From that perspective, religion does seem to be overly paternalistic and perhaps even abusive. However, one must consider the alternative. Is a secular upbringing really one of pure freedom of thought, a neutral philosopher’s paradise? I think not. Secular parents also inculcate their kids with certain values, traditions, and rituals. If they didn’t, they would be raising uncivilized savages. In fact, by Dawkins’ own logic, a religious person who believes that the secular value system is impoverished could just as easily turn the tables, and accuse seculars of child abuse.
Dawkins’ mistake is similar to the one often made by Libertarians when criticizing certain ‘paternalistic’ policies. Let’s borrow an example from my own field of behavioral economics. Behavioral economists attempt to nudge people into making better decisions by employing subtle forms of manipulation. A nudge of this sort can be implemented in a physical space—placing healthier foods at arms reach and sugary snacks behind paywalls at the school cafeteria—or in a virtual space—defaulting people into retirement-saving-schemes (so that they don’t need to take the action of opting-into saving).
Of course, such physical and virtual manipulations require a judgment call about what is best for people. For this reason, behavioral economists are often accused of promoting or practicing an insidious form of paternalism. Why should they wield the power to influence people’s decisions? Who are they to decide that children should be eating healthier foods or that people should be saving for retirement? A libertarian idealist might argue that these nudges are too invasive and that we should give people the freedom to make choices outside of such external influences.
But again, the libertarian has failed to take the counterfactual into account. The world is not a neutral utopia in which we are free to gambol about and make independent decisions. On the contrary, every corporation expends boatloads of resources to perfect their strategies in the competition for our money and attention. We are constantly lured by the notifications on our phones, the wafting scent of fresh Krispy Kreme donuts, the billboards with beautiful, happy people enjoying a Coca Cola at the beach. It is the behavioral economist’s job to steer us in a healthier direction (a direction more conducive to long-term well-being). In this way, nudges can be seen as countering invasive market forces and tipping the balance toward independent volition.
As a religious person, I believe that religions play a similar role. The values instilled by religion—and often overlooked or mocked by the secular Western world—are invaluable and foster high levels of well-being. I prefer these religious values to the secular alternative, which often appears barren and overly politicized. I take pride in being an Orthodox Jew and have many wonderful memories tied up in Jewish holidays and rituals. For all of these reasons, I don’t often criticize religion as an institution.
At the same time, I do agree that religions have many flaws, and as religious people with an insider’s perspective, it is our job to identify, address, and hopefully remedy them. Certain religions do propagate practices and beliefs that are abusive (of course, this applies to the secular world as well). And because I am an Orthodox Jew, I will turn my focus to my own religion for the rest of this article. I am not the kind of person who takes pleasure in airing his dirty laundry in public, but in this case, I feel a call to action is in order.
Fasting is Not For Everyone
Let me tell you a story about a teenage boy. This boy is prone to chronic migraines, which tend to flare up when he disobeys his circadian rhythms by altering his eating, sleeping, or exercise schedule. One of his greatest fears is fasting, because modifying his eating schedule is a surefire way to trigger a migraine. Still, he is told at school that when Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) arrives, he must fast, even if it means being bed-ridden. The only excuse to break the fast is if his life is literally at risk. It is a difficult pill to swallow, but the law is the law.
His parents tell him he may as well give it another try—maybe this time will be different. And he himself agrees. Migraines aren’t exactly life-threatening are they? His friends will be fasting. His siblings will be fasting. Even less observant Jews will be fasting! How could he not fast? Everyone knows that Yom Kippur is the most important day of the year.
As Yom Kippur nears and the fast looms large, the thought of fasting is too terrible to bear, and he does his best to put it out of his mind. But time marches on and eventually the big day does arrive. No food or drink for 25 hours, from sunset to sundown.
He stuffs down as much food and liquids as he can bear before the fast starts, all the while reassuring himself that the second he begins to feel sick, he’ll break the fast, and all will be okay. Finally the sun sets, and the fast begins.
The night isn’t so bad. Just some thirst and a bit of hunger. But his condition quickly deteriorates the next morning. By noon his head is throbbing and the nausea is overpowering. Suppressing waves of guilt, he breaks the fast by nibbling on some crackers (he is too nauseous to consume larger quantities).
But it’s too little too late. The rest of the day is a hellscape of pain. Pain in every shade, color, shape, and size. A nightmarish exhibition. Never yielding, always escalating.
Time drags. Sleep is impossible. He sits by the toilet, hands pressed hard against his forehead, willing the headache to recede. And then comes the vomit. Burning, acrid bile. His throat will be sore for the rest of the week.
But the worst of the horrors is yet to arrive because soon there’s no vomit left. Nevertheless, the nausea stubbornly persists. It doesn’t care that his stomach is empty because he’s been fasting. So the rest of his day is spent dry-heaving, curled up in a fetal position on the bathroom floor. His one desire is for the day to end as quickly as possible.
None of it makes any sense to him. Hadn’t he followed God’s commandments? Why was he brutally punished in return?
A Call to Action
As you may have guessed, the boy in this story is me. I spent my adolescence torn over whether to fast or not. The less ‘serious’ fast days were dropped quickly enough, but the social pressure and personal guilt made it much more difficult to give up the twin terrors: Tisha B’av and Yom Kippur. Finally, in my 20’s, I decided to put my foot down. Enough was enough. But even then I took certain precautions; I only ate small portions; I ate food that I didn’t like very much; And before eating, I would close my eyes for a few minutes, silently apologizing to God for breaking his commandments, begging for His forgiveness.
Now let me ask you: was all this suffering really necessary? Are fast days really that important? If your answer is yes, then you either have no idea what a severe migraine feels like, you are a psychopath, or you have been brainwashed to the point of no return.
My point here is not that Judaism should do away with the whole enterprise—although I do consider fasting to be an outdated form of self-flagellation. Rather, I’d like Judaism to take a more reasonable approach to fasting. If the literal risk of death is the only excuse to opt-out of fasting on Yom Kippur, if wishing for the sweet relief of death isn’t enough, then—and I don’t take any pleasure in saying this—Judaism is an abusive religion. The surfeit of suffering brought about by such an uncompromising position is unfathomable, untenable, and ultimately, criminal.
So this is my plea—if you are a parent, rabbi, teacher, friend, or sibling, don’t pressure bad fasters to fast. Assure your students and peers that it’s okay not to fast. If they aren’t built to fast, then they shouldn’t do it. Tell them that they should never intentionally make themselves sick, regardless of the circumstances. Only a truly malignant God would command them to do so.
Conclusion: An Encounter with Richard Dawkins
If I were to ever encounter Richard Dawkins and the discussion were to veer towards religion, I would probably attempt to lay out the defense of religion that I proffered at the start of this article. I would like to look him in the eye, and say: “Religion is not child abuse. I know this because I have first-hand experience as an Orthodox Jew, and I am grateful for my upbringing.” But, as long as Orthodox Judaism clings to its medieval approach to fasting, I’m afraid I cannot speak those words in good faith.
Jeremy Koloski 