Thorkild Grosboll, a popular Lutheran pastor in this village by the sea, drags on his pipe and clarifies once and for all: "I do not believe in a physical God, in the afterlife, in the resurrection, in the Virgin Mary."
"And I believe that Jesus was a nice guy, who figured out what man wanted," Mr. Grosboll said. "He embodied what he believed was needed to upgrade the human being."
Mr. Grosboll, 55, a gangling man who bakes rye bread and dotes on this small town, was suspended by his church on June 3, after he made similar godless remarks to a newspaper. His remarks and suspension have set off a tsunami of theological discourse in workplaces, university halls and cafes across Denmark, where religion seldom penetrates the collective consciousness.
Religion in Denmark, unlike the American kind, is almost never a defining political or personal issue, pastors and experts say. That is true of almost all of Scandinavia, a profoundly secular region where the word of God, while not exactly irrelevant, is often viewed as tedious. Church attendance in Denmark is estimated at 6 percent, though some experts say the figure is even lower.
So, it was no wonder that the plight of Mr. Grosboll, a laid-back man in Oxford tweeds who is beloved by this community, has prompted many here to ask: must a minister believe in Christ and the resurrection to be a good pastor? Isn't it enough to spread Christian values and help people in need?
"Danes, we don't talk too much about God, and Christianity is not a big force here," said Ulrik Spork, 44, a venture capitalist who said he never went to church until he moved to Tarbaek, which is 10 miles north of Copenhagen, and found Mr. Grosboll. "His beliefs mirror mine. I don't think the earth was created by God in six days. I don't believe it's a problem."
"He is easy to understand and he has a message to modern people," Mr. Spork said about the pastor. "He connects."
It appears that here, in Tarbaek, God would be so much more enticing without all that old-fashioned biblical talk.
Mr. Grosboll's own six-member parish council voted unanimously to keep him and wrote a letter of support to the Danish government's Ministry for Ecclesiastical Affairs. Then, it held a town rally that drew hundreds of people "on a football night," said Larse Heilesen, the council chairman.
"The people are furious," Mr. Heilesen said.
But it appears that even Denmark and its Lutheran Church must impose limits on religious freedom. For a man of God not to believe in God is, simply, unacceptable.
Mr. Grosboll's words are "creating doubt and confusion about the church's values," Bishop Lise-Lotte Rebel, who oversees Mr. Grosboll's parish, told an Agence France-Presse reporter on June 13.
"A pastor is an employee of the state who has obligations, and he cannot say everything publicly just by claiming that his freedom of expression is guaranteed by the Danish Constitution," she added.
Ms. Rebel summoned Mr. Grosboll on June 13 to clarify his comments about God, first published in Weekend Avisen on May 22, because there was some doubt about exactly what he meant. A reporter had interviewed him about his new book, "A Stone in the Shoe," an essay on religion and culture.
But Mr. Grosboll failed to recant and affirm his belief in a "physical God," and so the suspension remained. The ultimate decision to defrock Mr. Grosboll rests with Tove Fergo, the minister for ecclesiastical affairs, who has so far sided with Ms. Rebel.
Now Ms. Rebel says she wants Mr. Grosboll to try once again to be more precise. "I am in conversations with him to find out what he means," she said in a telephone interview.
This demand for further clarification was news to Mr. Grosboll, who calls himself a pastor sent out to pasture. He was asked to turn over his church key the day of his suspension.
Mr. Grosboll explains, in his book and in person, that he does believe in "something divine." But he does not believe in a physical God who "created man and ant," an afterlife, a Virgin Mary or anything that smacks of the metaphysical.
"I want the focus to be on the here and now, as a cultural factor," he explained. "God is not an argument. God is only a question. He is supposed to be a constant stone in the shoe."
In Tarbaek, Mr. Grosboll is a hero, a man who does not preach so much as chat with parishioners. He and his wife, Dorrit F. Moller, are popular dinner guests and know most of the church's 1,500 members by sight.
"If he goes out as a priest," said Peter Nielsen, 48, the local postman, "I leave the church."