Teen Soul-Searching—With or Without God

On a foggy day in late March, I walk back to school after a free period. Stepping carefully to avoid questionably-murky puddles, I notice a table set up outside the school. A group of people stand behind it and offer something to students who are passing by. As I get closer, I realize they’re offering pizza.

“All you have to do is write a question for God on a Post-It and stick it on the board,” one of them says, holding out a bright-pink Post-It note. They speak casually, but I hesitate. My eyes shift between the stack of sticky notes and the pizza. I don’t believe in God, and I never have. But in that moment, I wonder—is my disbelief worth missing out on a free slice?

After scribbling a vague question onto the Post-It, I stick it onto the board. I munch on the slightly-frozen pizza as I climb the steps of the Tribeca bridge. 

Growing up, religion has been a quiet presence in my family’s life; it has guided us without demanding attention. My mom is Christian and my dad is Jewish, but neither has ever pressured me to choose. Instead, religion has appeared in fragments. On my mom’s side, it’s my grandma’s wooden icon of St. Nicholas. On my dad’s, it’s the smell of latkes frying in hot oil. When we visited my mom’s side for Christmas, I helped my grandma serve heaping platters of shiny fish and roasted meat. But, the morning after, we ate bagels and salty lox “just because.” Passover was a quiet, infrequent celebration—often with friends rather than extended family. I found comfort but not meaning in these traditions. However, as I watched my friends step into adulthood with bat mitzvahs or confirmations, I began to ask myself what I wanted. I pondered what I was truly searching for—a deeper sense of connection, or maybe an understanding of life beyond what I could see. These questions, although broad, started me on my journey of exploration. 

The truth is that when I first began taking classes at the Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture, I didn’t believe it would truly make a difference in my life. Ethics are something you’re chided about; morals are something you try to ignore as you hop the turnstile to catch your train. But, through Sunday morning group meetings, I gradually realized something. The goal of this class wasn’t to make me a morally blameless person; it was to encourage me to reflect on my values and shape a life that aligned with them. When we painted park benches, organized fundraisers, or planted gardens, I was encouraged to think about what made these tasks rewarding to me. What were the things I valued most in my life? Was it my family? My friends? My grades? It was one of the first times I realized I had the power to mold a life for myself, and I was grateful I had found that this opportunity revealed so much to me about what I wanted. 

Over the years, however, I found myself seeking spaces beyond the Ethical Society. It wasn’t that the Ethical Society was lacking; rather, my personal search had simply led me somewhere else, somewhere where I could engage my curiosity as much as my emotions. I first attended the Universal Congregational Society in Brooklyn Heights on Easter in 2024. Before sitting down, I was handed a service guide and was reminded to return it to the front cover after the service, so it could be reused. I hadn’t stepped into a church since I was a toddler, and although I felt wary, I was pleasantly surprised. The sermon was captivating, and I marveled at the stained glass windows that cast dappled rainbows of sunlight onto the wooden floor. More recently, I’ve been regularly attending the Sunday morning services. One of the things I enjoy the most about the sermons is that they are less about doctrine and more about self-exploration. One weekend, the pastor references Jewish philosophy. The next, they pull wisdom from Daoism. I sit quietly in the pews, listening and trying my best to learn—not there because of my faith but because I love the feeling of being among people searching for something bigger than themselves. 

Maybe that’s what I’ve been searching for all along—not religion, not belief in a higher power, but connection; a place to ask questions without needing absolute answers; a way to build community without having to fit into a particular belief system. I don’t have to be Christian, Jewish, or anything else to love the hush of a congregation listening intently; the joy of sharing laughter and song with strangers; or the quiet solidarity of people coming together to reflect on life’s biggest questions.

Beyond the Sunday meetings and community projects, this journey has reshaped how I see the world around me. I approach school differently—not just as a place for grades and deadlines but as another space for learning about myself and others. I find myself listening more during conversations and appreciating moments of connection rather than just reacting to them. 

Being a teenager means constantly standing at crossroads and trying to shape an identity that is true to you. Peers push you forward; parents may pull you back. In the end, the choice is yours to create who you’d like to be. What I’ve learned from these experiences is a lesson for my own agency: I will discover who I’m meant to be if I keep seeking out the spaces that help me ask the right questions. Whether through religion or another manner, I believe all teenagers could benefit from this kind of exploration. It’s not about having all the answers but about giving ourselves the space to ask questions and sit with the unknown. 

I’ve learned that I can be a person who seeks meaning without certain doctrine—someone who values the comfort of traditions without being bound to them. To me, the journey of questioning is just as precious as the comfort of certainty. At least for now, I would like to keep wandering, asking questions.