Once you see it, it is obvious. People believe in gods and an afterlife because they wish to believe: that they will live forever and see all their deceased loved ones again, that the universe and reality itself are orderly and secure, and that someone who is kind, just and ultimately powerful is in benevolent control, making sure that everything works out for the good. That is a complete, factually grounded explanation for why people see an over-arching purpose in a godless world. Still, as complete and as solid as this explanation is, a wealth of detail resides within, in the human mind.

In Finding Purpose In a Godless World: Why We Care Even If the Universe Doesn’t, Ralph Lewis, M.D., presents an informative and accessible mechanic’s tour under the hood of our psychic cars, along with a tour of the garage, the library and the nearby planetarium. A psychiatrist, Lewis is well qualified to guide us through the mind. In this review, I will attempt to serve as a mechanic’s assistant, and provide a preview of what you might expect to learn if you read this useful and wide-ranging 268-page book (sans notes).

Lewis uses narrative to make his points. He tells the stories of patients he has treated, and explains how their cases illustrate the human longing to see design and purpose. Then he analyzes the narratives, striking a balance between the complementary tools of intuition and reason.

In Chapter 1, for example, Lewis relates the case of a young woman who had emigrated from Eastern Europe to Canada, where Lewis practices, was pressured into marrying an abusive man, then was diagnosed with cancer. Because of the excellent health care available to her in Canada, she received treatment, which may have cured her disease. She interpreted the entirety of these events as part of a purposeful design for her life, and saw her dysfunctional marriage as a necessary step toward a happy outcome. “Everything happens for a reason.” Yes, it does (everything happens for many reasons), but not in that sense.

This case leads Lewis to a discussion of Dawkins’ book The God Delusion. He argues that Dawkins’ use of the word “delusion” is a mere rhetorical device, because in psychiatry a delusion is a belief that “is not consonant with the person’s educational, social and cultural background,” among other criteria. Of course, we could ignore the technical definition and make the point, well supported by social psychology, that entire cultures seem to be deluded. However, Lewis approaches the matter as a psychiatrist; from that perspective, his argument is sound. People who believe in a god and an afterlife function well, for the most part. If we nontheists and scientific naturalists seek to understand and interact effectively with theists, then we must understand the world from their perspective, not only our own. We can make an excellent case that theistic belief is dysfunctional from a social, cultural and political perspective; yet we must admit, if we are honest, that most often it is abundantly functional for the individual. If we hope to get into the engine and make the car run better, we will not succeed by trying to rip out the entire engine, when the problem is in a hose. I offer this brief explanation, from Lewis’ first chapter, to illustrate the wealth of ideas that he offers for readers to consider and debate. After all, we are humanists.

Yet despite the usefulness of his insights and case studies, in Part I of the book, Lewis rambles when he discusses religion or philosophy, not psychiatry. He makes a few key points in answer to his title-question: we are inclined to see patterns and attribute agency, we are inclined toward optimism (though Chapter 2 is about patterns of dysfunctional, sometimes crippling pessimism) and toward a dualistic view of mind and brain. His cases illustrate these points, and he writes well enough to command respect and hold the reader’s interest. Still, he gives the impression that he is disjointed in his understanding of his own topic when he discusses it from the standpoint of other-worldly religion.

Dr. Lewis seems to be struggling with his own beliefs and ideas about religion; this continued struggle leaves his understanding unsettled. Repeatedly, he mentions his ambivalence about whether he is an agnostic or an atheist. Many of us have settled that question by shifting the old definitions, which we maintain results in a more advanced view of these matters: the most useful question is not whether or not a god exists but whether or not someone chooses to believe in a god. Views about gods tell us about ourselves, not about the universe or an over-arching reality. More than once, Lewis presents the ancient arguments for the existence of a god – “How can something arise from nothing?”; the world is too complex to be an accident - stating explicitly that these are weighty arguments to be reckoned with. “These philosophical questions are intelligent and compelling arguments,” he writes. (See Chapter 1, at pages 30-31.)

No, they are not. They may be intelligent, to a point, if we overlook the obvious fact that human knowledge is limited; compelling, they are not. They may seem compelling if one assumes that knowledge of all things is the natural state of human affairs. Then one merely says “God’s existence explains it” and “God did it,” and presto! – like Inspector Clouseau, we have ‘sol-ved’ all of the great problems of life and existence (except of course when something happens that we do not understand and struggle to accept, at which point it all becomes a mystery again). That is not intelligent and compelling. It is shallow and nonsensical.

Sometimes Lewis seems to get it, as in this statement from Chapter 5: “Asking what the purpose of the universe is might not even be a coherent question, if it merely reflects human assumptions and projections . . .” Other times, he seems trapped in discredited assumptions, as in this statement from Chapter 10: “Many people will probably continue to need some form of religion. Many may not be able to fully grasp, or feel sufficiently comforted by, the naturalistic-humanist perspective.” Apparently, he does not appreciate that a naturalistic-humanistic perspective can also be a religious perspective, along the lines of Einstein’s comments about awe and wonder for nature, and reality itself. This could be seen as one of the endless battles over the meaning of a word that we tend to fight within humanist communities; on the other hand, if we do not appreciate how a naturalistic religion is possible, then we are shut out from the life of religion. This, I have long maintained, is a crippling weakness, which humanists must overcome and put behind us. Just as a sense of purpose is exactly that – a sense of things – religion can be an approach to life, not a fool’s exercise in pretending to answer unanswerable questions.

On a related issue, in Chapter 9, he presents a forward-looking argument about the relationship between “is” and “ought.” Many humanists have long taken an unjustifiably categorical approach to the division between the two. Dr. Lewis is correct, I think, in pointing out that there are foundations of morality/ethics. Of course, there are foundations for cancer too, but Lewis makes a further and important point – one that I have been making for decades, against considerable resistance within humanist communities. We humanists are among the greatest champions of universal human rights. We have put forth three Humanist Manifestos. On what basis do we do that? If “is” and “ought” are completely severed from each other, then all ethics, all morality and all our laws are entirely arbitrary, as is any form of humanist ethics. We have long dug our own mass humanist grave doing that, hanging the label “nihilist” around our own necks. Lewis argues, correctly I think, that there is a recognizable set of desiderata, upon which people almost uniformly agree: for example, given a choice between having someone stick a needle into one of our eyes and not, all other things being equal, no one needs to be told what is the preferable state of affairs.

In the 21st century, have we not put those tired, old and misleading arguments to rest? Apparently we have not.

Ironically, Lewis seems trapped in a quasi-theistic worldview himself, enough to throw him off on some points. Lewis is a psychiatrist. The ancient theological arguments are fully explained by the human inclinations that are at the core of Dr. Lewis’ book. Sometimes he seems to see it; at other times, not. Like all of us, he is embedded in his life history, such as his wife’s battle with cancer, which led him to ponder and focus on the purposes and meaning of life, and write this book. His assumptions creep into his patient assessments, as of course they would. As a result, one of the most fascinating and useful aspects of the book may be that Dr. Lewis serves as his own case study.

I do not intend this as a demeaning comment. Lewis has written an excellent and useful book. Frequently he steps outside his field of expertise into subjects like religion and cosmology; yet obviously he is an intelligent, thoughtful and mature man, and an excellent writer, so that even these discussions merit his being taken seriously.

In Part II Lewis may just be showing off, presenting a chapter on cosmology, and another on science generally, before returning closer to his area of expertise with a chapter on “Mind From Brain.” Nevertheless, his discussions on all subjects are informed and interesting. His list of a dozen or so areas of scientific inquiry and accomplishment is an exciting reminder of what people have accomplished through science.

Part III focuses most nearly on Dr. Lewis’s field of expertise, psychiatry. Here he tells us where our sense of purpose comes from: from our brains, operating within our environments. So seamlessly are his discussions incorporated into his exegesis that if you did not keep his subject matter in mind, you could easily miss the point. Case studies include a patient who was motivated only to play video games, until Dr. Lewis prescribed him medications, which he took when he needed to study. This case was a practical example of how medical science can aid in the development of a healthy sense of purpose. As always, the lesson is that we decide what our purposes are, and how to give them life.

In Part IV, Dr. Lewis veers back to religion. This seems odd at first but continued reading suggests that he is looking toward the future, particularly conceptions and the role of purposefulness in human life: how we can come to grips with the question of purpose, and approach it with fresh eyes, from a naturalistic-humanistic perspective. In this, he comes full circle. Unlike many books, this one does not run out of steam after a chapter or two. The writing and the ideas drive forward from beginning to end.

So I recommend this book highly, not only for individuals but also for humanist reading groups and humanist organizations. It offers a wealth of insights, and author’s blind spots, which we would do well to consider and discuss.