Today’s question comes from a variety of people, names excluded. Suffice it to say that more than five have approached me in conversation with this burning question:
Jewish atheism? What’s up with that?
While some people have articulated their curiosity more eloquently, most have cut right to the point: “What is Jewish atheism? Isn’t that a contradiction of terms?” Their question is well-founded, as Judaism is one of the world’s only communal faiths that has adapted enough ambiguity in its language and practice to allow for the possibility of atheists among its adherents.
However, before we elaborate on the distinctions, reasons, and rationale of Jewish atheism, as well as atheist contributions to the Jewish people, it is perhaps important to clearly define our terms. Atheism is the belief that no god exists. There are obviously debates as to the nature and scope of atheism—after all, exclusive belief in one god usually means one doesn’t affirm all the rest. (Sorry, Vishnu). So, are we all mini-atheists in one form or another? For clarity and brevity, let’s just agree for now that an atheist is someone who disbelieves in the existence of any and all supernatural entities.
The second distinction to be made is the difference between atheists who are Jewish on one hand, and Jewish atheism or humanism on the other. This distinction is important; while many atheists are born Jewish or choose to become Jewish, only to affirm atheism at a later stage in their journey, others argue that some forms of atheism and some forms of Judaism are completely compatible. In other words, they actively practice both.
I can hear you scratching your head.
It seems a bit of a puzzle, no? Judaism is rooted in a revelation that occurred on a holy mountain. In the myth, HaShem spoke to Israel through Moses and gave us a code of ethics to follow. So where do the atheists come into the story? Moses wasn’t a motivational speaker with a magic stick. Aaron and Miriam weren’t, as one version goes, a secular philosopher and his proto-feminist sister.
While not initially apparent, it’s the code of ethics part of the tale that has led to the synthesis of Judaism and atheist thought. This stems from understanding Judaism as a series of actions, rituals and practices. While the belief and mindset of the practitioner is important in the process, that the ritual was performed is usually where the emphasis lies. After all, a Chabadnik asks, “Have you laid teffilin today?” not, “How do you feel about God today?”
There have been many atheistic–or at the very least humanistic–Jewish organizations, from the Jewish Labor Bund of Poland in the late 1800s to the Society for Humanistic Judaism of today. Beyond that is the understanding that within more traditional, theistic sects of Judaism (any of the big five: Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Renewal), Jewish atheists may both affirm their belief in the human origin of the Torah and the importance of participating in their Jewish identity.
There are more contradictions in this understanding of the world the closer one moves toward Orthodoxy. Orthodox Judaism makes no bones about its belief in the divine origin of Jewish life, summarized in the phrase “the Yoke of Heaven.” The Yoke is an affirmation that every Jew is asked to make. This creates a sense of responsibility—to each other, to Torah, to HaShem and to Jewish continuity—as each act is seen as a fulfillment of Hashem’s word. It is the Yoke of Heaven that Orthodox rabbinic authorities often argue is the deciding factor in the validity of conversions: Has the prospective convert accepted the Yoke of Heaven? (In addition, of course, to the completion of halachic conversion requirements.)
Outside of Orthodoxy, and the majority of Jews find themselves here, there is greater flexibility for this ambiguity of belief. As Jews travel along in their journeys, many find themselves questioning the existence of a divine presence. This line of thought has been accented by tragic moments in Jewish history, such as the Shoah (the Holocaust).
Within the framework of much Jewish practice—which emphasizes the doing rather than just the believing—it is possible for some Jews to retain both their atheistic worldview and their belief in the Jewish ethical code. While statistics on the number of Jewish atheists vary, given that such a study is difficult to conduct, many Jews among us find themselves affirming the words of the late Golda Meir who, when asked about her religious beliefs, stated, “I believe in the Jewish people, and the Jewish people believe in God.”
John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.
