The tradition of Jewish nonbelief is as rich, powerful, and distinctive as that of faith.

I don’t think I have to name the tune humming beneath my title. Even if you are, like me, a Jewish atheist, you’ve probably attended a seder recently.

That the ghost of the seder’s Four Questions haunts my title encapsulates the paradox I’d like to explore. It’s the paradox embodied in those I’d call — and, more important, in those who would call themselves — Jewish atheists. The paradox begins with giving both words equal importance, making it more an exclusive term than an inclusive one: Not all non-believing Jews qualify as Jewish atheists in my sense.

To narrow the class down even further, here are Four Questions, sung accordingly:

• While other atheists don’t identify themselves with their birth religion, why does a Jewish atheist continue to actively identify as Jewish?
• While other atheists don’t necessarily highlight ethics, why are ethics of such central concern to a Jewish atheist?
• While other atheists don’t necessarily emphasize the primacy of reason in human endeavor, why does a Jewish atheist see reason as redemptive?
• While other atheists may be indifferent to the flourishing of those who share their birth religion, why does the well-being of Jews remain of paramount concern to the Jewish atheist?

These questions indicate a type of atheist with a pronounced ethical sensibility, committed to a reasoned moral universalism that would eliminate all boundaries between peoples, and yet who is acutely responsive to the particularism that goes by the name of “Jewish identity.” Jewishness matters to such atheists, in a way not logically entailed by — perhaps not even entirely reconcilable with — robust universalism, despite their abiding faith in the redemptive value of reason. The tension of quasi-paradox lives within the Jewish atheist, and tensions are known to inspire creative resolutions.

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