...isn't the idea that there is some universal Mind or Force which created the Universe, that intervenes occasionally in its unfolding and that has some interest in us as humans and in how we treat each other. I don't believe this myself, but I can't rule it out, either. It is a valid and reasonable hypothesis and I must concede there is even some circumstantial evidence to support it.

What really blows me away is how incredibly detailed, how granular and precise religious doctrines are, how every tiny quirk and behavior of the Deity and how we are expected to relate to it, is rigorously spelled out and specified. It is curious how unforgiving religion can be, even those religions built around the concept of forgiveness.

Sometimes, when faced with the fervor and conviction of the True Believer, even a cynical skeptic like myself is intimidated, almost coerced into thinking maybe there must be something out there that people could believe so totally in it, and commit themselves so completely to it.

It is only when the variety and differences between faiths are considered, how they contradict each other and force their followers into absurd and inconsistent positions, (not to mention the brutality they are ready to inflict on those who do not accept their views) that one realizes how really, totally, completely arbitrary and artificial this world-view really is.

This need to believe must clearly be hard-wired into the human brain, and no doubt it probably serves some important evolutionary purpose. It must, because we have paid a terrible price for it.

My wife and I have just finished binge-watching the 12 hour PBS video production of "Brideshead Revisted". The novel explores the terrible devastation this sort of unyielding faith can inflict in those who accept it and the societies built around it. It is (among many other things) how an intelligent and thoughtful agnostic, the hero Charles Ryder, comes to eventually accept religion himself, in spite of the havoc it unleashes on himself, and those he loves. And keep in mind, the author, Evelyn Waugh, himself converted to Catholicism late in life and was a very devout man. His recognition of this toxicity and this inhumane, even cruel, aspect of religion is testament to the honesty of the writer.

As a failed writer, I stand in awe of Waugh's genius, and marvel at how such a perceptive man could be so completely deceived, and yet still describe the experience so honestly and so accurately.