Human beings are in the analogous position of a small colony of cockroaches living in the pantry of one of the galleys in an aircraft carrier. They are surrounded by this immense artifact, one that seems totally indifferent to them, even unaware of their existence, but they refuse to accept that. They feel the need to fancy it was all created for their benefit, to serve them, they are all a part of it, somehow. So they worship it, and fantasize about their vital role in its great purpose.

Lately, the cockroaches, in their explorations, have made it to a porthole and looked out, seeing the sea and the clouds, the sun and stars, and all the other ships and planes that are occasionally glimpsed out there. They are also clever enough to realize that beyond the horizon there may be much, much more. But they still are vain enough to believe they play a role in all of this, and that IT really cares about them, what they do and who they are.

We demand omnipotence in our gods because without it they wouldn't be able to do anything for us. And we demand omniscience in them because without it they wouldn't even know we were here.