The Virtues of Kefirah Peshuta

On trusting your instincts

I have an OTD friend who didn’t look into the truth claims. He didn’t pore over the archaeological evidence for or against the Exodus. He never learned about Utnapishtim and how his story mirrors that of Noah. He didn’t delve into all the major questions or the attempted answers. He just took a look at the religion and said, “No, I don’t think so,” and stopped believing. “I have kefirah peshutah,” he told me — simple disbelief.

For a long time, I looked down on that approach. How could you leave without asking the hard questions? Without weighing the evidence, exploring the debates, and “doing the work”? It didn’t feel like a legitimate reason to leave. It felt shallow. But now, I’m jealous of him.

Kefirah Peshuta: The Power of Instinct

Have you ever heard of the CES Letter? It’s a 138-page document written by a Mormon who went OTD. In it, he lays out every major question he has about Mormonism, meticulously documenting his doubts in an attempt to conclusively prove it false. But that’s not the whole story. For every question he raises, there’s an answer. FAIR, a Mormon apologetics website, has gone through the CES Letter point by point to provide rebuttals. And, of course, there are responses to FAIR’s answers, and rebuttals to those responses. There’s an entire ecosystem of Mormons and ex-Mormons arguing back and forth: on Reddit, TikTok, Facebook, and probably here on Substack.

When I first stumbled across this intellectual tug-of-war between frum Mormons and OTD Mormons, my first reaction was to laugh. What a waste of time! You really spent hours coming up with every major question on Mormonism? You don't need to do that. Just look at Mormonism. The claim is that an angel came to a guy in upstate New York and gave him tablets. Their leader is an American prophet named Russel Nelson. Duh that's false! You don’t need to go through the details. Instinctively, my BS meter goes off. That’s kefirah peshuta.

I only have kefirah peshuta for Mormonism, though, because I didn’t grow up Mormon. The claims don’t feel plausible to me because I wasn’t raised to believe them. My brain’s BS meter wasn’t rewired from birth to accept the idea that Joseph Smith was a prophet. If I had grown up Mormon, I’m sure I too would have needed that 138-page document to begin questioning my beliefs. And maybe I would’ve been convinced by FAIR’s answers. Maybe I’d still be stuck in the system, debating the details, too afraid to trust my own instincts.

An Instinct I Don’t Apply to Myself

This is where my jealousy of my OTD friend comes in. His approach to Judaism was with his BS meter. He just looked at the big picture and said, “No, I don’t think so.” At the time, I thought he was being lazy, superficial, maybe even dishonest with himself. How could he leave without engaging with the questions? Without spending years analyzing the Rambam, the Kuzari, the Rishonim, the Acharonim, and all the modern debates? Didn't he owe it to himself, to the truth, to really try?

But now I see it differently. He did something incredible. He trusted his own instincts. He had the clarity to step back and say, “This doesn’t add up.” And he didn’t need to read 138 pages of questions or answers to know that. He didn’t need to dive into the weeds or exhaust every intellectual avenue. He could look at the whole thing and say, “I don’t think this is true.” That’s kefirah peshuta. And now, I wish I had it too.

The Problem of Being Inside the System

When you grow up in a religion, your BS meter gets rewired. You’re not just taught the beliefs; you’re taught to distrust your own instincts. You’re taught to see doubt as a failure of emunah or bitachon. You’re handed tools to explain away every contradiction, every inconsistency, every impossible claim. And you’re told that true intellectual honesty means spending your life mastering those tools so you can defend what you already know to be true.

So when you start to question, you can’t just step back and look at Judaism with fresh eyes. You’re too inside it for that. You feel the weight of the centuries, the brilliance of the Vilna Gaon and Reb Akiva Eiger, the beauty of the system. You feel the fear of being wrong. The fear of leaving. The fear of being arrogant enough to think you could know better than the giants of the past.

And so you dive in. You start asking the questions. You start collecting the kashyas. You start reading the answers. And the answers to the answers. And the counter-counter-answers. Before you know it, you’re stuck in the weeds, debating whether there’s enough archaeological evidence for the Exodus, or whether evolution is compatible with Ma’aseh Bereishis, or whether the Kuzari has a good argument or a bad one. You’re doing the intellectual equivalent of debating FAIR about the CES Letter.

And don’t get me wrong — that’s not a waste of time. If it gives you clarity or closure, then it’s worth it. But at the end of the day, there’s something liberating about stepping back and saying, “Wait. I don’t need to do this. I don’t need 138 pages of questions to prove that Joseph Smith didn’t get golden plates from an angel. And I don’t need to read every apologetic answer to know that Orthodox Judaism doesn’t make sense.”

The Freedom to Trust Your Gut

I don’t feel the need to research the back-and-forth about every religion. I don’t need to study the best proofs for Christianity and then weigh the counterarguments. I just know — instinctively — that Jesus didn’t rise from the dead and isn’t the son of God. I don’t need to read about the historical evidence for the resurrection or the apologetics of C.S. Lewis to reject Christianity. My gut tells me it’s not true, and that’s enough.

But when it comes to Judaism, I don’t give myself that same freedom. I grew up inside the system, so I feel the need to justify my doubts. I feel the need to argue with the Rambam and the Kuzari and Joshua Berman and Rabbi Akiva Tatz before I can trust my own instincts. And that’s why I envy my friend. He didn’t need to do any of that. He was able to trust himself.

Simplicity Is Not Laziness

Kefirah peshuta is a gift. It’s the ability to see through the noise, to trust your gut, to recognize that sometimes the simplest answer is the right one. It’s not about being lazy or superficial. It’s about being honest with yourself. It’s about having the clarity to step back and say, “I don’t need to do this. I don’t need to get stuck in the weeds. I don’t need to prove every detail. I can just look at the big picture and know that it’s not true.”

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.