Its virtue is its flaw: it makes sense.
Makes sense within the tiny room
of human experience. It is a kind of
Puritanism (atheists are often righteous),
without the fabulous fractures, the gothic
repressions: melodrama. Some atheists,
to be fair, are entertaining as hell--
when they talk about God. Some
of the jokes are excellent. When
atheists hold forth only on atheism,
however, they become preachers,
and one can hear the creaking of
the hobby-horse and the snoring
from the back of the room. Atheism
is like a three-act play with one act,
a dull, factually accurate brochure
sent to millions, or a worn windshield
wiper. I mean, really? That's it? That's
the best you can do? Spoil everybody's
mystery, smother everyone with
an empirical pillow? I love atheists
in the way I love boulders and chores.
Atheism is a glass of tepid milk.
It is a beige uniform with the letters
this is it stitched on it in brown thread.
Atheists, bless your hearts.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom