There has been a lot of chatter on Substack recently about the phenomenon of adult Torah Jews with families departing from the faith. I am not talking about the Modern Orthodox, which has somewhat of a smooth continuum between the religious and irreligious, but about people who were raised in Yeshivish communities, who were given a good Torah education, but reject their upbringing once they become mature adults. This is not really a recent phenomenon, but its current manifestation has been ongoing for the last 25 years, in which the ubiquity of the internet means that any dolt with a laptop or phone could read Wikipedia for 5 seconds and think he has disproved the Torah.
In some cases, these people leave their communities, which is a cruel move that is almost invariably highly damaging for their wives, children, and extended family on many levels. In other cases, they can’t bring themselves to hurt their loved ones in this way, but live under the radar as nonbelievers, while attempting to maintain an “orthoprax” facade of observance for the sake of their family. For example, they will attend shul on a regular or semi-regular basis and keep kosher in the home and at work, while not believing in any of it. They will typically open up to their closest friends and family members, but will be careful not to let it out in public. As one can imagine, such conduct is taxing for them, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I suppose this sensitivity and hard work is to their credit, and G-d will take it into account when they go upstairs to give דין וחשבון. But it is no surprise that these renegades are more vocal than usual online, writing long manifestos about the purely intellectual and truth-seeking reasons why they profess to no longer believe.
The question is, from the perspective of a Torah Jew, what should be our own attitude towards the nonbelievers? Should we feel that their perspective has legitimacy? Should we empathize with their conclusions on an intellectual level? Should we respect their point of view?
The answer is a resounding no.
I don’t mean that that one shouldn’t empathize with those who have challenges with faith and grapple with questions or doubts. This is something that probably afflicts all of us. What I mean is to think that nonbelievers actually have a point, that perhaps the Torah does not represent the truth that we have been accustomed to think. And that therefore, we should respect their opinions, not just as a matter of pragmatics, not just for for the stability of their family or in an attempt to keep them in the community, but as a matter of principle, that their position might have legitimacy. Obviously, this cannot be.
What we have to realize is that these people have no right to abandon the Torah, and no justification to do so. The Torah is a Bris, meaning a covenant, a binding contract. It is not a contract with each individual, but with the nation as a whole. We entered into this covenant at Sinai and renewed it several times, at Sinai, on the plains of Moab, at Mount Gerizim and Ebal, at the end of Joshua’s lifetime, during the reign of King Josiah, and when the Jews returned to the land of Israel with Ezra. The fact that millions who were not brought up Jewish reject the historicity of this covenant is understandable, since people of one nationality naturally tend to be skeptical of another nationality’s self-reported history. But just as most Jews, even nonbelievers, are partial to Israel’s version of Israeli history of the last 75ish years, despite most of the world taking the side of the Palestinians- because we believe we know the history better, we know we know the history better- so too it is with the covenant at Sinai. It is our covenant and our history, the rest of the world’s opinion be damned. Therefore, there is no justification and no defense for somebody who was raised Jewish to reject the Torah.
The covenant with G-d that is the Torah can be likened to a marriage. You can’t just wake up one day and declare your wife doesn’t exist and walk away from the marriage. This is even if your wife is not in the room with you at this moment. This is even if you have strong questions about some things your wife told you. This is even if everybody else is telling you there is no evidence of the existence of your wife, that she is just a fabrication. What do they know? Their skepticism might be understandable, but you were the one who stood under the chuppah. You can scream until you’re blue in the face about how you really, truly, earnestly, honestly, sincerely, don’t believe in her existence. You can compare her to all the other women that you’re not married to. You can insist that according to your best research she is an illusion and a delusion and a mirage. But it doesn’t matter. You’re just fooling yourself. You have no right to abandon this marriage. You are a bad person if you do so.
However, at the same time, it’s also important to mention that it’s possible for somebody to be a bad person by mistake. There is a well known passage in the Chazon Ish (1878-1953) which states that the non-religious of his day had a status of תינוקת שנשבו (children that were raised in non-Jewish captivity). Although it’s highly unlikely that this applies to somebody who was raised religious and leaves the faith, there is no doubt that the influence of secular society is more pernicious now than in previous generation.
In fact, this is especially the case with the specific population we are discussing. They were raised their whole life in Ultra-Yeshivish society, sheltered from secular knowledge, and then suddenly are exposed to the entire online world as adults. It’s understandable that some of them may be shaken by what they see, and can’t recover. In fact, their upbringing might even be the cause. Far the from probing, astute intellectuals that these nonbelievers represent themselves as, there is a good chance that they were the most naive of their peers in yeshiva, and mindlessly drank in any and everything their rebbi said, with no distinction between the Exodus in the Torah, Aggados about giant birds that destroy hundreds of cities, and stories about the Baal Shem Tov’s flying chariot. It would be no surprise that they would be similarly quick to uncritically accept anything that they see from secular academics and Bible critics from a quick survey of Wikipedia. This may be one of the major downsides of the modern Yeshiva education system, although this is at the same time its greatest strength, as I will mention soon. Therefore, without having the least smidgeon of respect for their beliefs, we can still be understanding, the same way we would for people suffering from schizophrenia. And there is no doubt that these nonbelievers are afflicted with deep internal suffering.
Gaslighting
After all this talk of respect and understanding, I want to address something else. A common complaint among the online nonbelievers is of “gaslighting”. This typically means that when the nonbeliever originally had questions, his questions weren’t taken seriously, and when he finally decided to give up the faith, his motivations were impugned as not stemming pure intellectual quest for truth. He feels that his intelligence has been insulted.
I will not deny that the frum community doesn’t do the best job of addressing challenges in faith. However, I would point out that this is a testament to the resilience of our religious education, that typically such challenges are not so serious in the first place, and there isn’t much demand for professionals in this area. It’s difficult to have real intellectual doubts about the Torah’s truth when your entire life revolves around the Torah. Others might call it brainwashing, but that is nothing more than an ad hominem which is intended to deflect from the success of the Yeshiva world. Nevertheless, I acknowledge that most people, including rabbis, are not well-trained to deal with strong questions from inquisitive minds, or have an outdated mental model that doesn’t take into account the instant availability of kefira at everybody’s fingertips.
On the other hand, there are some who have studied the relevant topics and are actually qualified to respond. But what is the nonbeliever’s reaction? Rarely do they simply say they are unconvinced. Instead, they almost invariably dismiss the responses out of hand as weak apologetics, post-hoc rationalizations, and motivated reasoning (as if their own reasoning is pure and free of any motivations). Frequently they just yell “nonsense” without bothering to articulate what their objection is. They attack their interlocutor with charges of intellectual dishonesty, insisting that no reasonable person could reach any other conclusion than the nonbeliever. They accuse the respondent of malice or laziness in failing to engage with the questions seriously. They claim that the interlocutor didn’t give any thought to the questions and doesn’t himself believe the veracity of his explanations. They claim to be seeking answers, but shut down any discussion. Now I ask you- who is doing the gaslighting here?
Exchanging Torah Judaism for cultural Judaism
Some have attempted to square the circle, by arguing that the nonbelievers have every right to their opinions on faith, but that orthoprax Torah observance should nevertheless be encouraged out of a sense of duty to Jewish culture. Just like secular Americans would celebrate Christmas without believing in Christianity, so too these nonbelieving Jews ought to continue to adhere to their Jewish practices, not just as avoid shaming their family, but because “it’s the right thing to do as a Jew”. In this way, the people who put forward this solution hope to keep the nonbelievers as respected, upstanding members of the community, while permitting them complete intellectual freedom.
I shouldn’t have to tell you how ridiculous this sounds.
It’s one thing to encourage nonbelievers to publicly participate in Jewish culture, such as having Shabbos meals, attending shul, avoiding eating in Macdonalds or purchasing treif meat at the grocery, etc. - which is already how many of them are conducting themselves. This type of participation is not so difficult in of itself, especially with enjoyable social events like kiddush club and Shabbos meals. The main source of difficulty for this person is that of living a secret double life.
But it’s quite another to tell nonbelievers that their lack of faith is justified, but they still need to fast on Yom Kippur, say Grace after eating, learn Torah, avoid muktzeh, and generally conduct themselves in accordance with the innumerable rituals and precautions that govern the day-to-day life of a Jew- all on the basis of “this is what Jews do”. It makes no sense. The advice smells of somebody who is conflicted in his own beliefs, but still retains a deep emotional connection to Jewish practices, and is desperately trying to shore it up with a pseudo-rational foundation. The approach is misguided both because it distorts what the Torah really is, and it fails as counsel for the nonbelievers. If they are (or claim to be) not convinced of the Torah itself, how on earth will they be persuaded by a weak shadow of the Torah?
All said, there is no real solution for the nonbelievers except for teshuva (repentance). But they are living with what the Rambam calls חולת הנפש, or sickness of the spirit. Many are sheltered children who were let loose into the world and can’t find themselves. And so therefore, we must approach them with patience, understanding, and love.
As someone who grew up in a yeshivish community and has since lost my faith, I find your complete lack of empathy and understanding to be incredibly hurtful.
The notion that those of us who have departed from religious Judaism have "no right" to do so is simply untenable. You act as if we are bound by some unbreakable covenant, when the reality is that I and many others have come to the sincere conclusion that the Torah is not divinely revealed truth. This was not some hasty decision made after "5 seconds on Wikipedia." It came after years of deep questioning, study, and grappling with the challenges to traditional beliefs. I engaged extensively with rabbis, both yeshivish and modern orthodox, and even spoke with Orhodox Bible scholars and philosophers, and ultimately found the arguments for Orthodox Judaism unconvincing.
Yet you dismiss our journeys as mere "fooling ourselves" and the product of being "sheltered children." What an insult to the intellectual honesty and integrity of those like myself who have struggled mightily with these issues. You really have the audacity to compare our sincere doubts to the delusions of the mentally ill? You missed your calling as a mesivta mashgiach ruchani where these fiery shmuessin would find an appropriate audience of naive bochurim.
The fact that you view any questioning or dissent as illegitimate rather than an opportunity for serious engagement is deeply problematic. If the yeshivish world wants to stem the tide of those departing the faith, it would do well to approach this issue with more humility, nuance and intellectual honesty.
I’ve read your article. Honestly, I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. It’s layered with certainty, dripping with authority, but it misses something fundamental: understanding. Not of the Torah, the Bris, or even the community, but of the people. The ones you dismiss as “dolt[s] with a laptop.” The ones you think have no right to walk away.
Let’s talk about the emperor’s new clothes. Everyone praises the invisible clothes because they’ve been told only fools can’t see them. Then one child dares to speak the truth: the emperor is naked.
That’s what it felt like for me. Growing up, I believed. I really did. I saw the emperor’s clothes, admired their beauty, praised their craftsmanship. Until one day, I didn’t. I looked closer, and what had seemed glorious unraveled in my hand. It wasn’t rebellion. It wasn’t laziness or naivety. It was honesty.
Now imagine being told, that despite seeing the truth, you are required to continue bowing to the emperor. To pretend. To say the words. Perform the rituals. Wear the mask. Why? Because it’s tradition? Because I stood under a chuppah I no longer believe was real?
You call this marriage. But what is a marriage without reciprocity, without presence? If I’m the only one showing up, it isn’t a relationship - it’s theater. Staying in a marriage like that doesn’t make you loyal; it makes you dishonest. And dishonesty isn’t holiness.
You talk about gaslighting. You claim we do it to you, dismissing your answers out of hand. But what do you call telling someone their questions don’t exist? That their doubts are just a sickness? That they’ve been seduced by “a quick survey of Wikipedia” and secular academics? You invalidate the journey, then act surprised when people walk away.
Doubt isn’t a sickness. It’s a symptom of caring deeply enough to ask hard questions. And yes, the answers matter. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t bother searching for them.
You write, “[They] have no right to abandon the Torah.” No right? Respectfully, you don’t get to decide that. Choice is fundamental to being human, even according to the Torah (וּבָחַרְתָּ בַּחַיִּים / הכל בידי שמים חוץ מיראת שמים / רשות לכל אדם נתונה) Free will is the foundation of everything. To deny someone the right to choose differently isn’t Torah - it’s tyranny.
You claim we left because we were naive and sheltered. But what about the people who weren’t naive? The ones who knew shas cold, who got smicha, who spent a decade in kollel, and still walked away? Do they fit neatly into your narrative? Or is it easier to dismiss them as broken too?
You say we deserve patience and love but no respect. That’s not how empathy works. Empathy isn’t about tolerating someone’s pain while holding onto disdain. It’s about stepping into their shoes, even if you disagree with where they walked. You don’t have to respect my conclusions to respect me as a person. But if you can’t even do that, what are we talking about?
My blog wasn’t written to tear down your world. It’s a lifeline for people like me - people trying to navigate the tension between two worlds. People who love their families and communities but can no longer make themselves believe. It’s a space to be seen, without judgment, without masks.
You say there’s no solution for nonbelievers except teshuva. Maybe. But teshuva starts with truth. And for us, the truth begins with admitting the emperor is naked. To deny that would be the real betrayal - not of you, not of the Torah, but of ourselves.