Title: Confessions of a Jewish
Skeptic
Author: Sarahbeth Caplin
Genre: Spiritual Memoir
Release Date: May 20, 2016
For the first time since converting to Christianity several years ago, I was forced to
reconsider what Judaism meant to me after my failed attempt at seminary, and after my father died on
the eve of Rosh Hashanah. This is not a story about finding God, but about what happens when doubt
threatens to break the faith of your own choosing - and how one seeker chooses to confront questions
that don't have easy answers, if any answers at all.
I feel safer by living on the fringes of faith, where grace and humility are clearer to
me than ever before. For now, this is the safest place to be. It's messy, it's sloppy, it's
anything but organized. But I'm learning to make it a home.
If I look back on my life from a psychologist’s perspective, it makes sense
why Christianity appealed to me so much. The person with OCD likes everything neatly arranged and in
impeccable order (at least this person does). From the outside looking in, Christianity seemed to fit this
bill with its clear definitions of right and wrong, moral and immoral, holy and
unholy.
It’s not so much that I agreed with everything most denominations have in
common, so much as I admired the organization of doctrines. Judaism by comparison (Reform Judaism,
obviously) allowed far too much room for making up my own mind about things, and that, to me, was its
fatal flaw.
Well, the joke is on me now, isn’t it? I had no idea that churches have split,
and continue to split, over doctrinal disagreements. The black and white ideas I thought were so clear
are actually anything but, depending on the subject. Needless to say, this is all very frustrating for
someone who thought she was signing up for a religion of easy answers.
The most adamant teaching from my college ministry was the necessity of having
an answer for what we believe and why, per the instructions of 1 Peter 3:15: “Always have an
answer ready for the hope you have in Christ.” Because we never knew when a crazed gunman
might come to campus and attempt to make us martyrs, like what supposedly happened at Columbine
(what do you expect from a group that calls itself Campus Crusade, after
all?).
Except no one got martyred while I was in college. Instead, students claimed to be
asked from time to time, “Why are you always so happy? What’s your secret?”
And that would be the platform for witnessing.
Well, few people would ever look at me and think, “Gosh, isn’t she
happy!” so I don’t think that tactic works for me. I can’t remember a time
I’ve ever had anyone randomly come up to me and ask about my “secret” for
which Jesus would be the answer. Actually, the only people who have ever gotten in my face to ask
about my beliefs were street preachers, the angry kind who just want an excuse to tell me why
I’m wrong and that I’m going to hell. And then a radical thought occurred to
me…
This pressure I feel to have answers, to know exactly which box represents my
beliefs so I can put a check mark next to it, now mostly comes from me. Reality doesn’t actually
work that way. I don’t owe anyone an explanation of my faith journey
and the shaky place I find myself now. That story is much better explained with a friend over coffee, in
which the goal is to share our struggles and understand each other, because that’s how
relationships work. And I think this is why I’m able to have friendships with people who
aren’t Christian, because admitting “I don’t know” comes much easier to
me than “This is why I’m right.”
Still, the Bible itself continues to be a source of pressure for me. It claims
you’re either “on fire” for God or “lukewarm” and will be spit right
out. You’re either for Jesus, or against him. You’re a True Christian, or you’re lost.
For all the narratives and parables about men and women who emulated the paradox of faith and
doubt, there’s plenty more that keeps me up at night, praying for grace and humility for all the
things I could be wrong about.
I’ve met Christians who are absolutely confident that hell is not a literal
place; that Jesus is one of many paths to God. My own belief insecurities are too great for me to
condemn anyone who strays from Orthodox teachings. More than that, deep down I hope those beliefs
are right, even if I never confess them with confidence. Perhaps it would be easier to reject the things I
don’t like, but I feel safer by living on the fringes, where grace and humility are clearer to me
than ever before. For now, this is the safest place for me to be. It’s messy, it’s sloppy,
it’s anything but organized, and drives my OCD crazy. But I’m learning to make it a
home.
Sarahbeth Caplin is an author, blogger, editor, and freelancer with a degree in
English Literature from Kent State University and is working on an MA in creative writing at Colorado
State. Her memoir Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter ranked #1 in Amazon's top 100 bestselling
books on personal growth in the summer of 2015, and her novel A Stunning Accusation ranked #6 in
New Adult fiction that fall. Her essays have appeared in xoJane, Feminine Collective, and the Stigma
Fighters Anthology (available from Booktrope). She lives in northern Colorado with her husband and
kittens. Follow her blog at www.sbethcaplin.com.
