Yours Truly Page 4

  His worst moment was when he calculated that far more horror, persecution, death and destruction had been visited on the world in the course of some fifty years than in the whole history of the Christian Church and all religions in several thousand years, and this utter contempt for human life was rooted in a devout atheism that amounted, ironically, to an entirely new state religion.

  The atheist did not dare admit these growing doubts to his friends and relatives, who were all very committed to the creed of non-belief and, for one reason or another, had not thought to question anything very much. One of his best and most comforting ploys, when plagued by private misgivings, was to watch comedians on television who were confident in their atheism and brilliant at poking fun at hypocrisy and, indeed, at almost anything to do with the Church or faith. But it was very upsetting for him to discover that there were also comedians of genuine religious faith rising to the top of the profession and this simply did not fit with his fundamental assumption: funny and clever people are bound to be fellow atheists. In fact, he began to feel betrayed every time he heard of a bright person who had clearly been duped into some kind of primitive religious faith. ‘Bright’ was a favourite word for many of his intellectual gurus and it had recently become a noun – he liked to consider himself a ‘bright’. So encountering very clever people in the arts or sciences who believed in God clearly didn’t make sense or, worse, his atheism didn’t make sense.

  He became quite angry with himself and quite sheepish too as, increasingly, he stopped reading the manuals of faithful atheists and stopped listening so attentively to their invective.

  He thought that if he could just forget about all the questions he was having, he could live a peaceful and less intellectually troubled life. He could simply exist. He could do away with arguments and the war of words between atheists and religious people. He could just ‘be’, which would be the most profound and unashamedly natural way – an animal way – of carrying on with life, enjoying every day as best he could, then accepting death and oblivion.

  For, clearly, there was no God and no afterlife.

  He repeated these words to himself often, like a mantra, but as he did so, he began to feel that he was whistling in the dark – or, perhaps, in the light?

  Perhaps there was a God and there was an afterlife? Was it really irrational and unscientific to believe these things? A significant number of contemporary scientists clearly did not think so. For them, there was no contradiction between faith in God and the pursuit of a scientific career dedicated to open-minded research, new theories and new discoveries.

  What harm was there in questioning his old certainties? Surely this was an essential part of a scientific approach to life? But the consequences of such intellectual freedom were disturbing.

  The only solace he could find was in not thinking at all because, of course, having a closed mind is a very comforting state of existence. Many dogmatic religious people and many dogmatic atheists have this in common at least. They like to keep a lid on things. But why had his mind become so firmly shut? He would wake up at night sweating, as this question hovered over him like some kind of mischievous spirit sent to torment him. Even the metaphors occurring in his head were becoming a little too spiritual for comfort.

  He tried revisiting all the trusty old objections to faith. One of his favourites was the appalling destruction caused by natural disasters, which was a clear indication of a pitiless universe and, obviously, incompatible with any notion of a loving or benevolent deity. However, he came across a very unhelpful book, by a professor of geology, which pointed out that there would be no life on Earth at all without volcanic action, and the existence of every kind of life, from microbes to humanity, depended on forces that are profoundly creative, as well as blindly destructive. The professor went on to point out that rich people survived earthquakes and eruptions far better than the poor, and there were glaring moral issues of global justice, construction methods and early warning systems that had to be addressed, as natural disasters are an inextricable part of life on Earth.

  All this did not deal with the terrible anguish of human suffering, but it framed the question in a different way. Given the realities of life on Earth, including dramatic changes in weather patterns, rising sea levels and an increasing number of forest fires, almost certainly due to the reckless exploitation of natural resources, the human race has an urgent moral imperative to think, act and plan differently. Otherwise, the greatest natural disaster of all, the extinction of life on this planet, will be caused by the most extreme and destructive force in the whole of nature, which is humanity itself.

  The atheist sincerely wished that he hadn’t read this paradoxical book and hurled it across the room, where it continued to stare at him, accusingly, from a flower pot.

  The best and easiest solution, he decided, was simply to slump into an armchair and watch the news and see all the violent troubles in the world – clearer evidence of all the random brutality of existence. However, even this perennial ‘problem of evil’ argument became a little more complex when he began to ask, ‘Why should we care about pain and death, as it is all part of an evolutionary struggle? Why should we feel, deep down, that torture and murder are terrible injustices? And why do people intervene and try to change things? Where do acts of selfless bravery and altruism come from?’

  The relentless questions were mounting day by day, and he was sure there were good scientific answers for them. In fact, many great thinkers were working hard on the altruism problem and had come up with some good biological parallels and, generally speaking, reasonable ‘explanations’. But no one had yet observed chimpanzees collecting money for chimpanzee orphans they didn’t know thousands of miles away. Research was in its early days. All this was unsettling, because the last thing in the world he wanted to consider was any kind of goodness or innate moral law or, worse, some kind of essential spiritual identity that might point to . . . the existence of a creator. Men and women made in the image of God!

  Such a belief would be the worst possible outcome, certainly for his atheism.

  The final and most troubling doubt, which came at him like a hammer blow, occurred when he was watching a television documentary about the origins of the universe. Normally, this was completely safe territory. The vastness and meaninglessness of the universe, ironically, made good sense to him. But then along came this absurd nuclear physicist who pointed out the fact that if the rate of expansion of the universe, one second after it came into existence, had been smaller by even one part in a hundred thousand million million, it would have collapsed and ‘we would not be here to make this programme’. The humble and smiling scientist had gone on to say, as if he was pleased with all this outrageous improbability, ‘This is about the same accuracy needed to hit a coin at the other side of the universe fifteen million light years away.’

  This was unhelpful. It certainly ruined the atheist’s evening. It wasn’t the graphic and infuriating simplicity of this image; it was the train of thought it led to . . . for hours and hours . . . for days and days.

  He now had far too many doubts to handle and it was time to take action. It was time to avoid thinking for ever. It was time to firmly close his mind again but, like some ancient misshapen door, his mind would not shut completely. It kept creaking open and there was a freezing cold draught coming through.

  He had always loved the ‘multiverse’ theory – that there were an infinite number of universes and so all things were possible, in any combination, in any number of dimensions. But, of course, and rather awkwardly, this could not be proved by strict scientific examination because these endless universes were not open to study and could only be inferred. They were in fact, in some significant way, an article of faith.

  And here’s how the final questions brutally assaulted him: did it take more faith to believe in a creator who was outside time and space and not subject to the laws of the known universe than it did to believe in an infinite number of other u
niverses that had arisen entirely from nothing? Or arisen from the minds of atheists who simply could not stomach the idea of a creator and had to find a viable alternative at the very least?

  But then, supposing the attractive ‘multiverse’ theory were true after all, did it really abolish the idea of a creator or did it imply, even more insistently, that there must be one? For if the vast nothingness that lay behind all existence was effectively a womb of cosmic creativity, how did one account for this? It was surely a remarkable and unparalleled leap of the imagination – a scientific faith of infinite degree – that would be needed to believe all matter and all organic life and every conceivable universe simply jumped out of ‘nothing’.

  Of course, the atheist would often repeat the familiar twenty-first-century argument to himself, rehearsing it in the mirror and declaring it to any wavering agnostic friends in the pub: ‘The universe appearing from nothing is not a problem! In the microcosmic sphere of quantum mechanics, particles such as protons can appear and disappear at random. They leap out of nothing, they can vanish suddenly and reappear somewhere else from nothing, so why not the universe itself? Since the universe was originally no bigger than a proton, why couldn’t the whole damn thing be just a blip appearing out of nothing?’

  In this way, life, the universe, all universes, all matter, every insect and animal, every human being, all works of art, all inventions and scientific discoveries, all loving and caring, every single act, good, bad or indifferent, and all human consciousness that enables humankind to explore the universe and, indeed, watch protons appearing from nothing come from . . . nothing.

  He would breathe a sigh of relief whenever this fundamental fact stared at him once again, like a familiar friend. Nothing! It was reassuring.

  But unfortunately, his febrile mind, disturbed by a maddening TV documentary, refused to calm down or shut down, and questions still came tumbling out of the void.

  Surely this precious concept of ‘nothing’ would have to be a fixed and immutable reality for eternity? There was no room for a later generation of scientists to discover that what was previously thought to be nothing was, in fact . . . something.

  For, as one scientist had put it, ‘the latest word in science must never be the last word’. But in this case it had to be! Nothing would have to remain an all-powerful reality. Beyond time and space itself. Because, otherwise, where did the laws of nature – mathematics, physics and chemistry – come from, which everything after the Big Bang had so faithfully observed? Obviously, from nothing.

  Nothing. Omnipotent. Eternal. In fact, a bit like God, without the church bit.

  The more the atheist contemplated the remarkable creative power of nothing, the more he began to realize that here it was again. Faith. Impressive, monumental, infinite – supreme faith, rather than reason, was ultimately required for him to believe that everything came from absolutely nothing. He did not have this gift, however, although he wished, with all his heart, that he did, because he greatly valued his atheism and the freedom and independence it gave him, not to mention the intellectual respect staunch atheism could offer in today’s Western world. He was even beginning to say to fellow atheists, deeply, sincerely, ‘I wish I had your faith.’

  But he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t reach it. He couldn’t inflate the tiny mustard seed, the human faculty of faith he still possessed somewhere deep inside, to such a vast, improbable size.

  ‘Mustard seed’ . . . he’d heard that somewhere before.

  The mustard seed of faith.

  This tiny and mysterious force now sparked into life from the apparent nothingness of his soul. A voice seemed to be whispering to him, faintly audible in the darkness of his despair, ‘My child, why wrestle with doubt any longer? A mere quark of faith in me will do, and this will soon move the mountain of irrational scientific faith that is now crushing your soul. And, by the way, you do have a soul. I took a great deal of loving care making it.’

  At this, the atheist started to hum loudly to himself in the hope of silencing his disordered imagination. He clearly needed psychiatric help. There was probably a drug somewhere that was available to silence ‘still small voices’ or other psychotic experiences. Surely there was a neuroscientist who could help here? However, even his considerable faith in medical science was beginning to crumble. Something unexpected and very awkward was happening. He was in unfamiliar territory, which is always a dangerous place to be.

  He went out for a very long run, across meadows and fields, jogging for hours until the night sky appeared in all its glory, but he avoided looking at it, because it was gradually filling with meaning and extraordinary hope.

  His head was hurting, all because of a ridiculous and ephemeral little documentary. He sincerely hoped that the profound upset he was now feeling in his head, his stomach, his heart and possibly even his soul, would pass.

  But it didn’t.

  The supremacy of nothing, the self-explaining cosmos, an infinite number of universes erupting from nowhere, along with a great many other elements in the expanding creed of atheism, clearly required a macrocosmic leap of faith.

  He could no longer make such an interstellar jump. This was terrible news for his formerly devout beliefs.

  In fact, the atheist was forced to rely almost entirely on reason and science, which is how he lost his faith and became a Christian.

  Talent Show

  A businessman had four employees.

  As he was going away for a long time, he gave each of them some money to invest.

  To the first he gave £100,000. To the second he gave £50,000, to the third he gave £25,000 and to the fourth he gave £10,000.

  When he came back after a year, he called them into his office one by one.

  The first employee explained, ‘I invested your £100,000 in a variety of enterprises and they have all proved very successful. I have made you a million pounds.’

  The businessman was overjoyed. ‘You have done brilliantly and now I will promote you to high office and give you a large bonus and a great deal of responsibility. We’ll celebrate your success with a wonderful party.’

  The second employee explained, ‘I invested your £50,000 in several enterprises and I played the stock market successfully. I have made you £250,000.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said the businessman. ‘I knew I could trust you. You will receive promotion and a bonus and be invited to a wonderful party to celebrate.’

  The third employee came to him a little sadly and said, ‘I invested your £25,000 in putting on a play. The play was outstanding and got good reviews. Many people were deeply moved. But I am afraid that times are very difficult in the arts world and the play did not transfer anywhere, so I lost all your money.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said the businessman. ‘You didn’t lose a thing. You touched people, you blessed them. That’s riches enough. You tried your hardest, you acted with courage and I love fearless risk-taking more than anything. I consider my £25,000 well spent. Tell me about your future projects and I will give you greater backing and more responsibility, and you must come to my party to celebrate.’

  Finally, the fourth employee came in. He was smiling. ‘Here is your £10,000 back, safe and sound.’

  The businessman was astonished. ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘Like I said,’ explained the employee, ‘nothing at all. Here it is, safe and sound.’

  ‘You didn’t even put it into a savings account and at least earn a little interest?’

  ‘Oh no, sir, that’s hardly worth doing in the current state of the economy. I just put the cash in a safe and kept it there.’

  By now the businessman was becoming furious. ‘You didn’t even risk my money on some worthy venture?’

  ‘I didn’t want to do that,’ said the employee, shocked. ‘Look at what happened to your employee who lost every penny! He just squandered everything on a doomed artistic production. At least I am returning your investment in perfect condition.’
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  Now the businessman was extremely angry. ‘You’re fired,’ he said, ‘and I will never give you a reference. You will never work in this city again. You’re a loser.’

  ‘But,’ the employee protested, ‘I didn’t lose anything!’

  ‘You lost your nerve,’ said the businessman, ‘and now you’ve lost your livelihood and your reputation.’ With that he called security and the man was hurled out on to the street, and all his possessions with him.

  ‘Bring me men and women who are enterprising, who work hard, who try anything and take risks,’ said the businessman. ‘In my company, the worst failure is to play safe and do nothing.’

  Love Affair

  A young woman discovered that her husband was having an affair. She asked him how he could have done this to her and he said, ‘This would never have happened if you had loved me enough. This is your fault as well as mine.’

  She ran out of the house in terrible distress until, at last, she came to her parents’ house. She poured her story out to her mother, who put her arm round her and said, ‘You must try to win him back. You must buy better clothes, start wearing more make-up and take much better care of yourself. A man doesn’t want a woman who looks dull and dreary. That is why he has started to look elsewhere.’

  In anger and despair, the young woman walked away from her parents’ house, weeping even more bitterly. A friend saw her staggering along the street and took her by the hand. ‘What on earth is the matter?’ she said. ‘What dreadful thing has happened to you?’

  The woman could not speak for a long while, so the friend made her sit down on a park bench. ‘Calm yourself,’ she said. ‘Tell me everything.’

  The woman poured out her story once again and explained how her husband had met a younger woman at work and had been secretly having an affair for two years.