Can Atheists Have Fear of Heaven?

Although it is an aspiration of mine as a Jew, I'm not really sure if I'll ever understand what the Jewish concept of Yiras Shamayim (Fear of Heaven) is really about. On *extremely* rare moments, perhaps during Neilah on a particularly good Yom Kippur, I've felt emotional trepidation at the thought of being judged by God. A tearful physical shudder at the thought of the standing before the Creator, knowing that my future is at the mercy of this awesome Force that I can't possibly comprehend. When thinking about misfortune that I see around me, I am even more likely to have this reaction. Is this Yiras Shamayim? Or perhaps the baby steps leading up to it?

Regardless of whether or not one believes in God, man must recognize that there is a force greather than himself at play in the cosmos. For the atheist, the forces of nature act at random with no will or intelligence. But the honest atheist will concede that there is a power greater than man, even it is not a cognizant entity. We are at the "mercy", if you will, of the forces of nature. Man can exert control over many aspects of existence, but can never completely protect himself from disease, natural disasters, accidents, violent acts, or the like. Sincerely contemplating the awesome nature of this force (or these forces) and how we may or may not be affected by them in the future can inspire trepidation, regardless if this force is a willful intelligent God or pure chance. I suspect that given an environment and mood that lends itself to contemplating this uncertainty in an emotional way, an atheist could fairly easily come to tears and tremble. So if what I've described above is the beginnings of fear of Heaven, can an atheist have Yiras Shamayim?

Or more likely, what I've described is not at all Yiras Shamayim, rather an inward and selfish fear for my own future, or existential angst that has much more to do with the uncertainty surrounding existence than it does with God. Oh well, I'll just have to keep trying.

Old Age and Dementia

My grandfather passed away recently. Without dwelling on the topic, the last few years of his life were tragic, as the family watched our beloved father and grandfather slowly deteriorate from the great man that he was into a non-communicative state of minimal function and great suffering. The thought of it makes one think of where we are ultimately headed and generally does not engender warm fuzzy feelings.

This past Rosh HaShanah I had the privilege of pushing an older gentleman in his wheelchair to and from shul a number of times. This man apparently just recently, in the past month or two, began to demonstrate symptoms of dementia, to the obvious great distress of his family. I was aware of this from the outset, but not knowing him very well beforehand, was not really disturbed by this. On our first walk, I learned that he was born in Cracow in the 20s, was in a few concentration camps during the war, was transported to Frankfurt by U.S. troops upon liberation, where he found a small reconstructed Jewish community and he remained until 1951 when he immigrated to the states, met his wife, raised a family, etc. His only surviving relative was his father, whom he was reunited with 2 years after liberation. He apparently remained observant the entire time. I earned great respect for this man in our conversations, and I felt we both enjoyed these conversations, despite his asking me the same questions on almost every walk, and other similar blunders indicating the unfortunate deterioration of his mind.

Others who know him well remarked sadly how brilliant he was, his wife expressed her torment. But given the context of my introduction to him, I wasn't disturbed by the situation. I was viewing the present moment, not the past. It is what it is, and it is unfortunate, but he is still a man with feelings and many other distinctively human capacities, and I was glad to be able to transport him to shul, have some nice conversation with him, make him smile, feel good, etc. He was quite grateful as well and expressed so numerous times.

I later reflected on this experience as compared to how I related to my grandfather in his final years. Granted, my grandfather was more debilitated and probably suffering to a much greater extent. But reality is such that many of us will end our lives in a debilitated state, to some extent or another, we have resistance to accepting that, but we can't change it. I wished that I could have related to my grandfather in partial disregard of the giant of the man he used to be, only focusing on who he is now, his current existence. Perhaps I could have focused more on making him smile instead of the horror that consumed me in not even knowing if he knew who I was anymore.

I told my wife, if I ever go that way, please, don't even think about what I was and get distraught about my condition in relation to the past. Just focus on who I am at that moment. Make me laugh, smile, make my life a positive experience, give me an opportunity to give to others and remain human despite my existence as compared to my earlier self.