For the past forty years, religion has been quietly dying in America. You can see it in empty pews, in the way Sunday mornings now belong to brunch instead of worship, and in the growing belief that truth is whatever we want it to be. As secularism rises and postmodernism replaces moral foundations with personal narratives, one question lingers: what are we losing?
In a recent Utah Stories podcast, we invited Yoni Kayman, a rabbi and businessman from Israel, to help us grapple with that very question. Kayman has spent much of his life teaching Jewish philosophy and values. He’s no stranger to the Torah or the modern world, and he brings a perspective that’s both ancient and relevant.
The conversation began with a look at how American culture has shifted from faith in God to faith in the self. We live in an age where “you do you” is not just a catchphrase—it’s a creed. The self has replaced God at the top of the pyramid. But Kayman argues that this change comes at a cost.
“It’s hard to question intelligent design,” he says. “When you look at the complexity of life, the beauty of nature, it’s hard to believe this all happened by accident.”
According to Kayman, belief in a creator—an intelligent force behind the universe—is still common. What’s far less common is belief in a God who’s actively involved in human affairs. That, he suggests, is where we’ve lost our way.
When God becomes distant or irrelevant, we become our own highest authority. And that’s dangerous, not just spiritually, but socially. If everyone defines their own morality, society begins to fracture. We lose the shared values that allow us to coexist.
The Bible, particularly the Book of Genesis, isn’t just a collection of ancient stories—it’s a framework for understanding human nature and morality. Kayman explains that the Jewish tradition doesn’t treat Genesis as a straight historical account. Rather, it’s a moral blueprint. The stories are real, he says, but they’re presented in a way that emphasizes ethical lessons over chronological detail.
Take the story of Adam and Eve. Kayman suggests that the moment they ate from the Tree of Knowledge wasn’t the beginning of consciousness—it was the moment evil became internalized. Before, good and evil existed in separate domains. Afterward, the struggle moved inside of us. Each person, he says, now carries two inclinations: one toward good, and one toward evil. Our job isn’t to pretend the evil doesn’t exist—it’s to subdue it, even harness it, for good.
“You need ego to survive,” he says. “But if you let ego rule you, you become destructive. The same goes for desire, for ambition, for anger. These things aren’t evil in themselves. It’s how we use them.”
In a world obsessed with instant gratification, that’s a message worth hearing. Our consumer culture feeds the idea that happiness is just one more purchase away. But real fulfillment, Kayman argues, comes from aligning our will with a higher purpose. In Jewish tradition, that means aligning with the will of God. In practical terms, it means taking responsibility—for your family, your community, your actions.
The Bible begins with a single man, Adam, placed in a garden with one job: to care for it. Why only one man? Kayman explains that in Jewish thought, the singular creation of Adam teaches that every person should view themselves as responsible for the entire world. It’s not about dominance. It’s about stewardship.
And maybe that’s where the modern world has missed the point. We’ve traded stewardship for self-expression, community for ideology, faith for tribalism. We’re quick to label others as evil based on their beliefs, but slow to examine the values behind our own. Kayman and I agree: good and evil exist in every heart. The difference is what we choose to nurture.
We also touched on the growing challenge of discernment in a polarized culture. Who decides what’s good? In a courtroom, truth is objective. But in the public square, it often feels like everyone’s shouting their own version of truth. Kayman believes that real truth can withstand scrutiny. If you start asking the hard questions—Who started the fight? What are they trying to achieve? What are the consequences?—truth reveals itself.
Our conversation didn’t offer easy answers. But it did point to something enduring: the need for moral clarity. Whether you’re religious or not, there’s something valuable in the ancient idea that we are accountable—not just to ourselves, but to something greater.
