'It's giving people who aren't religious somewhere to go and connect with other people'. Credit:Wayne Taylor At first sight, an atheist church seems an oxymoron, an absurdity - like a football match without the football. Certainly some of the more devout atheists and Christians have criticised it on those grounds. But, in the same spirit that 18th-century Christian evangelist George Whitefield asked, ''Why should the devil have all the best tunes?'', many atheists today are asking: why should faith communities be allowed to claim a monopoly on fellowship? Thom Mann, the music leader on Sunday, gave his rationale in a blog a couple of months ago. Raised a Christian who finally found the faith irrelevant, he was also annoyed by ''the overly self-assured tone'' of atheist advocate Richard Dawkins and his naive certainties. ''Even if we do get rid of religion, I think people will always find other world-harming 'isms' to hold on to,'' he wrote.

''Unmitigated free trade capitalism comes to mind. Rampant individuals isn't a very rational tendency either, it being so counterproductive to the good of all, and I can't see that disappearing if we do away with all religion. ''I myself miss many aspects of church. I think we always need to emphasise the positive, loving, selfless parts of our natures, and I think that getting together regularly in a church-style gathering could be a great way to foster these attributes.'' Mann wrote that a community of like-minded people who were connected and who could help each other and do things for the greater good seemed an excellent goal. The diverse reaction to the idea of an atheist church was wryly and wittily represented online recently by people commenting on an article by Becky Garrison in The Guardian. They ranged from dismissive via cynical to welcoming. ''Will the First Non-Church of Daft Ideas please come to order,'' said the first post. Imageark wrote: ''Even non-believers are devoted to the secret religion of money. So not much point really …''

It's just a matter of time before people start caterwauling over who has the purest, most logical form of atheism, suggested IgnatiusJWryly, to which crazyfat guy replied: ''It's already happened. Atheists like myself who do not demonise religion as unremittingly evil are frequently questioned as to whether we are really atheists by those cultists who worship at the feet of Dawkins, Harris and Hitchens.'' The most positive response, ironically, came from a believer, Stiffkey, who wrote: ''I wish you all the best. One of the good things about being a Christian in our atomised society is the communal sense of belonging. We meet together for worship, social events and studies. We look after each other and try our best to do good for our immediate community and the wider world. If you can do such things then that would be wonderful.'' Melbourne management consultant Pauline Diano obviously agreed. She was so captivated by the idea of an atheist church that she agreed to organise last Sunday's assembly before she had even been to one. Raised a Catholic, she realised in her 20s that she could not pick between Noah's ark and Jack and the Beanstalk as fairytales. But many of her seven siblings have a strong faith, and she watched enviously as they travelled the world, making instant connections through church networks wherever they went. ''So I decided to get involved even before I came here,'' she said after the assembly. ''This isn't about bashing religion - it's giving people who aren't religious somewhere to go and connect with other people, to congregate and feel uplifted and communal.

''There's obviously things religion does very well, and these are what we are trying to tap into and make available for people who want that sense of belonging.'' Many atheists of a more activist bent have also been persuaded. One is Andrew Rawlings from Croydon, who runs the Yarra Ranges atheists meet-up and is a member of Progressive Atheists. Most of the atheists who find the notion attractive have something of a church background, and Rawlings is no exception, seeing the light when he was 30. ''I'm like a reformed smoker. When I found out I'd been misled I was angry. I don't like to see people misled, cheated or scammed. ''There's definitely a place for the things that the church offered without the myths and superstitions. Church people help at soup kitchens because they are kind people, not because they are religious. If atheists have some tax breaks and incentives, they will do soup kitchens.'' Asked how much income atheist groups have, he concedes ''virtually none'', so that tax breaks would not actually make much difference. But resentment of perceived favourable treatment of religious groups is a common theme when atheists gather.

Mitch Grigg, from La Trobe University's atheist club, came out of curiosity, and found it surprisingly positive. ''One of the only spheres the progressive atheist movement doesn't address is community. This is ideal for that gap. Or for people who are transitioning out of religion. I don't think the church gets to maintain a monopoly on community,'' he says. Another with a church background, he found it similar, ''but more genuine. There was no pretence or need to have faith. People were more interested in getting to know you personally.'' John Perkins, founder of the Secular Party and another first-timer on Sunday, says the internet and Facebook are bringing atheists together. ''In a sense, the advantage the churches have in providing a community is diminishing. It's not a substitute for meetings but a way of augmenting them. A lot of people who join on the internet never turn up to meetings, or come once or twice - but they know it's there, and people still feel part of it. People have been thinking for a while atheists should have something like this.'' David Nicholls, former president of the Atheist Foundation of Australia and organiser of two international atheist conventions in Melbourne, is personally sceptical about an atheist church, but says fellowship was an important aspect of the conventions. ''Atheists felt they were missing out on the cake, and not getting a fair share of societal recognition. There was a joy in being there for atheists, it made them feel they were just as important as anyone else,'' Nicholls says. ''If people feel they need companionship or fellowship or whatever an atheist church might offer them, let them go for it.'' But Nicholls believes it will only ever appeal to a minority. ''Some atheists do miss the fellowship that religion can bring, though I always felt that was overrated.''

Monash emeritus professor Gary Bouma, a sociologist of religion and Anglican minister, is amused but not surprised by the idea. His response: ''Why not? It's finally an acceptance that atheism is a belief system, a world view, and the way we in the West deal with a world view is something that looks like a church. We get together and we sing, and we talk about ethics - it's all part of our ethos.'' He points out that though people claiming no religion reached 22 per cent (4.8 million people) in the last Australian census, the number actually calling themselves atheists remains tiny, at about 100,000. But that's still a big enough base to justify an alternative to the traditional lecture-hall nature-society meeting. And because atheists have been so evangelical in recent years, they need a broader model, he feels - something to which they can invite people. Veteran Christian leader James Haire - executive director of the Australian Centre for Christianity and Culture in Canberra, and former president of the Uniting Church of Australia and of the National Council of Churches - confronts the invisible elephant in the room, if one may speak of God in such terms. It's fine to copy the forms of the Christian community, but without God an atheist church cannot achieve the second vital aspect of Christian worship, the sense of transcendence, Haire says. ''[Swiss theologian] Karl Barth asked why do people bother to get out of bed on Sunday to come to church when they've worked hard all week? They come wanting to meet God in some way, though they don't always succeed. ''The atheists have taken one part of it. The church is not simply a gathering, it's also the body of Christ, so this is a part of Christianity, it's essential.''

The atheist church reflects a society that has lost the sense of community it inherited from Christian community, Haire says. Christians should not feel threatened, they should be sympathetic. ''I think it's highly unlikely in human terms to be very successful. I don't say we must get our Christian hobnailed boots on, sing Onward Christian Soldiers and stamp all over them. I think they are probably quite genuine people who are seekers.'' Sociologists say you are likely to live longer if you are a church member, he says. ''Your good friend Sally is more likely to come round and look after you when you have the flu if you are both members of the church than if you are both members of a bowling club or if you met at a bar. A church may be a people who, despite the quirks, actually care for each other, and I think there's a craving for that. Too much secular society is based on performance.'' Melbourne Anglican Archbishop Philip Freier is also sympathetic, saying that while virtual relationships such as Facebook are possible, there is something unique about sharing space, ritual and food - being connected. ''Over the history of Christianity there have been many versions of this, but they are seldom able to propagate themselves beyond a few enthusiasts. They tend to be reasonably self-limiting.'' Freier compares the atheist church with the Masonic movement that he says has contrived a quasi-religious ritual without requiring the kinds of belief organised Christianity has. ''They hearken back to a mythological past where craftsmen had dignity and respect they weren't getting at the time, so it offered some transcendence.''

Even the desire to help another person is a desire to transcend ourselves. If an atheist church wants to help others it acknowledges there is an experience humans can have that is greater than themselves, Freier says. But it will not match the appeal of the church. ''The key thing is the presence of the living Christ in our community and as the focus of our worship. It remains a challenge for us not to become a group of people who like doing the same thing, but to keep the Christian challenge at the heart of our life.'' Certainly those who came found the Sunday Assembly a pleasant and congenial gathering, enriched by the deliberate absence of religion-bashing. But clearly developing depth and community will take time. The application of the day's theme, ''lend a hand'', was hardly sacrificial - it amounted to ''see if you can do something for someone some time''. Perhaps the most glaring contradiction was contained in the chorus to the concluding song (a George Michael number), which raised a few eyebrows: ''You gotta have faith.''