I take my text from the Book of Acts, when the author says of those who search and grope for God, and find that God is not far from them: "In him (in God) we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28a).

I

WHY, one might ask, would the Parson preach on "The Courage of the Atheist" on a Communion Sunday?! The two seem so far apart! Clearly the Parson is a little crazy!

Ah ha . . . crazy like a fox! It's not so much that I want atheists to take communion, and not so much that I want those who value the communion service to understand and appreciate atheists (though BOTH goals are good), but I want to acknowledge, and to illustrate, something of the nature of this free church: we value tradition here, and we value the rituals of our heritage, but we ALSO value the free mind. Some of my colleagues in other denominations do not understand this -- they think religion must be held together by creeds, by "beliefs" shared or imposed on everyone in common. But I want to tell you that there is a greater community, a greater respect for differing beliefs WITHIN a community of faith, when we can FIND WAYS for those who are in different places in their religious journeys to respect one another, and to take communion together, to eat and drink from the same table of grace.

II

I want to talk about those who cannot, or will not, believe in God. I am tempted to give an intellectual history of atheism this morning, but it would take much too long. Well, maybe just a touch.

Do you know what "atheism" meant in New Testament times? An atheist in the New Testament, in the Roman Empire of the first century, was one who refused to venerate the local or imperial deities of the Roman Empire, which included seeing the Emperor himself as a god. As strange as it sounds, the early Christians were considered "atheists" because they would not worship the Emperor! And, therefore, they were suspected of treason, disloyalty to the empire!

There are more modern atheisms, of course. There was the rationalism of the Enlightenment of the 18th century and the Marxist-Leninism of the 20th century. There were also the "unbelievers" of the 19th century -- the London heretics, and in the US the disciples of Robert Ingersoll and Mark Twain and others, who -- more than engaging in theological discussion, rather engaged in ridicule: they ridiculed the Bible, they made fun of believers, they joked about how Lazarus would have smelled bad being brought out of the grave. It was, indeed, grand sport. It was the period of the village atheists, who thought they were smarter than everybody else. What they were ridiculing, of course, was often not just belief in God, but more often the pretensions and arrogance of Christians. What some atheists have not believed-in was the Church, especially in its hierarchical and dogmatic and holier-than-thou manifestations. It was a period of great fun -- but it was NOT a time of inclusion, of pluralism, of respecting different beliefs. Rather, it was a time, on BOTH sides, of saying that the "other" was wrong, and mistaken, and evil.

There is something about CRITICIZING others, of saying how WRONG others are, that does NOT contribute to a free and responsible search for religious truth.

AND YET, I do not want to totally denigrate that period of atheist rebellion. In many ways, it has a distinguished history. And it served a positive purpose. I think of Leslie Weatherhead, and his magnificent book about The Christian Agnostic. Do you know about agnosticism? -- the word was invented by Thomas Huxley, in 1876 at a meeting of the Metaphysical Society in London. It was based upon the words in this morning's reading from Acts: when Paul stumbled upon an altar dedicated to "an unknown god" -- "ad agnosto theo." No doubt, the owner of that altar was trying to cover all his bets, to include the gods he may have otherwise forgotten. But Huxley took the term to refer to those who do not know, and felt they probably could not know, for sure, whether there is a god. Ever since then, the word "agnostic" has come to mean, in the best sense, one who is "undecided."

It sounds strange, but I have to tell you that it was an atheist who most helped me to believe in God. Sir Julian Huxley, a descendant of Thomas Huxley, wrote an absolutely magnificent book, in 1957, called Religion Without Revelation. It was not his intention to help me believe in God, but here is what happened. Huxley wrote that the doctrine of the Trinity could be interpreted in a naturalistic way: imagine that "God the Father" represents the powers of nature, those powers that "go their way inevitably, without regard for human emotions or wishes." Imagine that "God the Son" represents all the actual beings who truly represent and embody all our ideals of how we ought to live and be with one another. And imagine, finally, that "God the Holy Spirit" represents the highest goals of our lives, the ideals of value, the inevitable values that make our lives of significance in the world.

Now, Sir Julian was not trying to help me believe in God, but his words helped me realize that there are options in belief: that it is not simply a matter of belief in the traditional views of God or you are an atheist . . . but choose what you will believe.

Now, having said all that, I suppose it is implied that one could convince oneself, intellectually, that there is, or there is not, a God. Such a question has kept philosophers and theologians busy for generations. But, to tell you the truth, I've always thought that such a view is kind of like one who tries to pick a spouse by reason, to convince oneself intellectually, that they should marry a particular person. It doesn't work that way. In religion, as in love, we "know" in the heart, we know in our experience, we know "inside" what is right. It's not simply a matter of intellect. It's a matter of personal conviction. Something convinces us that there is a god. Or something defeats us, convinces us that all those hopes simply are not true.

This may be one of the most important points I want to make this morning: one does not believe, or not believe, in God, simply on the basis of intellectual argument. It has to do more with how we have lived, how we have experienced life itself. In orthodox argument, it goes this way: you do not believe because you have been convinced, you believe because God has done something for you. You have received blessings you did not earn, received forgiveness you did not deserve.

And this brings me to the heart of the matter. I ADMIRE THE COURAGE OF THE ATHEIST.

Most atheists, I think, do not decide to be atheists. They simply do not see the presence of a divine force in the world. Most are not able to fill in the great ontological blank -- they see no preordained goal, no promise of ultimate justice, no guarantor that good will eventually triumph. It's just us and a random world.

I think it takes a lot of courage to live in this world as atheist -- at least it does to so live with a commitment to social justice -- for so much is dependent upon you. You have to be brave to fight the good fight without losing hope, without giving-in to despair. You have to support one another, when you believe no greater force in the universe will help you. I think this is why some atheists I have known so appreciate the communion service -- for in a simple ritual of eating together, we lift up the importance of feeding the hungry, caring for one another, being to each other the kind of inspiration Jesus was to the disciples. Not believing in God, some atheists believe instead in the importance of human community, of breaking bread together.

But in those quiet moments alone, in a hospital or in a crucial moment of decision, when self-doubt assails and fears arise, the times of personal tragedy and discouragement, the true atheist has to buck up his own spirits . . . for there seems to be no god to help. (Of course, those are sometimes the moments when we hedge our bets: "if you are there, God, please help!" -- one of the finest prayers ever prayed. And as someone said, there are no atheists in foxholes.) Sometimes atheists do have a god, it just does not look like the gods of which religions speak.

III

Theologian Paul Tillich once said: tell me what kind of god you don't believe in, and chances are, I won't believe in that kind of god also.

That is the greatest reality of atheism today. If you ask an atheist what kind of "god" they don't believe-in, chances are very good that we don't believe in that kind of god either.

That is why I don't think some atheists and modern Christian believers are all that far away from each other. The religious world has changed since we were children.

Take, for example, what were called "the Death of God" theologians in the 1960s. People like Thomas Altizer argued that the idea of God as a distant king, a final judge, was no longer appropriate for our age. We need to find more appropriate images of god, for our times, these modern theologians said. Marcus Borg, who will be speaking here at First Parish Church in Weston this month, under the auspices of the Massachusetts Bible Society, wrote one book called Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time and another called The God We Never Knew. In both, he tries to move his readers "beyond" old theological concepts that no longer work -- as a child he was taught that the word "God" meant "a supernatural being 'out there' who created the world a long time ago and had occasionally intervened in the aeons since . . . that someday, after death, we might be with God, provided that we had done or believed whatever was necessary to pass the final judgment" (p.1). Doubts arose and disbelief began, but still the idea persisted -- what is behind this idea of God? "There is," he writes, "much in our experience -- of nature, human love, mystery, wonder, amazement -- that conveys the reality of the sacred, a surpassingly great 'more' that we know in exceptional moments (and we have an) experience of life as permeated and surrounded by a gracious mystery" (p.5). He promotes a view of God called "panentheism" -- the idea, quite biblical really, that God is right here in the world, as well as "the beyond" that encompasses everything.

In some ways, Borg and others are radicals. But it is a new world in Christian theology today.

So, you see, my friends . . . crazy like a fox! I want us to understand that Christians have learned some things from atheists, especially the courageous ones. And I want us to understand that atheists can learn some things from the new Christians.

But, most of all, I want us to respect the varied and unique journeys each person travels to get here to this place today. It is not our task to tell each other how they are wrong, but it is our task to comfort one another along the journey -- to share our joys and our tears, to confess our mistakes and to make the affirmations we can, and, as Jesus taught us, to share a little bread and wine with our fellow travelers.

We might just discover something holy.