Rabbi Rami: Is It Trump’s Fault?

My life is defined by bad choices. I picked the wrong spouse, the wrong career, the wrong city to live in—even the wrong hair color! To paraphrase a proverb about luck, if it weren’t for wrong choice, I’d have no choice at all. How can I choose differently?

My suggestion is to stop choosing. Hire a life coach or guru to make all your decisions for you. All you have to do is follow orders. Since you always make bad choices, chances are you will choose the wrong life coach or guru as well, but letting someone—even the wrong someone—choose for you can’t be any worse and might be substantially better than your choosing for yourself. If your coach’s choices turn out just as bad as your own, simply do the opposite of what your coach suggests. That might be the change you’re looking for. Or you could simply stop defining your life and get about the hard work of living it—bad choices and all.

I’m an atheist who married into a very religious Christian family. To spare my wife a huge headache, we never told her parents that I don’t believe, and while we get along extremely well it’s getting harder and harder for me to participate in their religious lives. Should I just come out as an atheist?

The question you have to answer is this: What do you hope to gain by coming out to your in-laws as an atheist? If you’re coming out to test whether or not they will still welcome you into their family, don’t. That’s a trap you needn’t spring. If you’re coming out because you feel inauthentic and this is gnawing at you, then, by all means, tell them the truth. Just don’t make it about them. Share what you do believe, not what you don’t believe and why you don’t believe what they believe. Don’t put them in the position of having to defend their religion. Allow them the opportunity to love you for who you are. And if they can’t, being an atheist is the least of your problems, and your wife is going to have a headache way beyond huge.

Our 10-year-old went to church with a friend and accepted Jesus as his lord and savior. The problem is, we’re Jewish! Now all he wants to do is live as Jesus did. What should we do?

My three-year-old grandson visited me after preschool the other day and said excitedly, “Jesus loves me!” “That’s great,” I said. “You know who else loves you?” “Who,” he asked. “Mommy loves you and Daddy and Bubbe and Zayde and Krishna.” “Krishna?” he questioned. Then we read a storybook about Krishna, Ganesha, and a couple of other gods he probably won’t hear about at his supposedly secular preschool.

As far as your son is concerned, help him live as Jesus did. Jesus was an observant Jew, attended synagogue, studied Torah, argued eloquently with his teachers, and cared for the poor and the powerless. Teach your son to do the same. If he starts healing the blind and lame—well, that’s a bonus.

Last night at dinner my husband announced (or pronounced, really) that God is dead. Our sixth-grade daughter asked him how gods die and where gods go when they die. He ignored her. Then she asked me. I told her I would ask you. So, what do you think? 

I think you should invite me to your home for dinner and such amazing conversations! And I think your husband shouldn’t make pronouncements he isn’t willing to explore. As to what I think about dying gods, I think gods die when their believers die or no longer believe. When gods die, they often become psychological archetypes featured in self-help books, or comic book superheroes starring in feature films. Sometimes both. Admitting that gods die, however, isn’t the same as saying “God is dead.” Claiming God is dead requires you to define the God who is dead. For me, God is the Source and Substance of all reality. My God won’t die until the universe dies, and maybe not even then. In any case, this will happen long after you’ve stopped having dinner with your family.