With Christendom’s fragile relics revealed
To be fakes, so then the enlightened
Presumed god and his holy church would yield.
The superstitious, being no longer frightened,
Could look up into the heavens and see
An absence of angels. They were free
From damnation and this blessed relief
Should have them all embracing disbelief.
Abrahamic sophistries would fall,
Excised by the keen, adamantine blade
Of science; the progress that has been made
Must surely let atheism enthral,
Now that this has become the full season
To reap the grand harvest of reason.
Yet, just as Torah, Bible and Koran
Become manifested as errant tomes,
Not the Words of God, rather works of Man,
Mere shadows in illuminated homes.
Yet, although revelation is dismissed,
It is still conceivable to insist
That reason does not need to undermine,
But be a staunch pillar of the divine.
In truth, science continues to advance
And comprehension of creation grows
Because there exist discernable laws,
Not merely random, promiscuous chance.
Freethinking scientists and laity
Can contemplate a sense of deity.
The shape and the length and the depth of God,
The divine conceit and its extension:
Man might speculate but not know quod
Erat inveniendum*. Mention
The sacred and reason in the same verse
And zealots will fulminate, and curse
The apostate for his vile defiance
Of the jealous god or godless science.
Pious prelate and the secularist
Set aside their fundamental schism
To denounce as error modern deism
For reasoning the divine must exist.
What is God? Language is inadequate,
But thoughtful poetry may speculate.
This Logos being beyond definition,
Ineffable always and in all things,
And yet, occurring in Man’s cognition,
The merest hint imagination brings.
No cold and distant deity is this
And far too persistent for Man to miss.
The ineffable may be made absurd,
Transliterated as the holy word.
While sceptics’ intransigent insistence
On a rigid militant denial,
Must foreswear purpose glimpsed in nature’s guile
And that anything at all makes sense.
God can’t be confined by Man’s summation,
Being within and without creation.
What then of evil and the cruel stain
Upon mortal flesh left by the tart juice
Oozing from the forbidden fruit? Again,
Here’s evidence of clerical abuse,
With so much pomp and privilege to win
Through invocation of original sin.
Heaven’s gate slammed shut bringing Man to his knees
Before the Pontiff whose hand held the keys:
How else was Wrong to be culled from Right
Without the guarantee of Hell? Unless,
There’s no original sin to confess
And God isn’t irked by Adam and Eve’s slight.
Not guilt, but free reason divines intent
And human conscience guides moral judgement.
Commandments claimed of God for humanity
Are made by Man, through Man, for Man. It’s in
This promulgation their profanity
Allows such considerations of sin
To be tempered with due experience,
Fashioning a proper and commonsense
Of justice: not some divine demagogue
Handing down a mountaintop Decalogue.
In a reasonable world everyone should know
Whatever their differences they pale
To insignificance when male and female
Are utterly equal before the law.
However people might choose to relate,
In life and death, Nature doesn’t discriminate.
Sitting beneath a star-strewn midnight sky
On a hill above a spangled city,
The distant drone of traffic driving by,
Owl screech and a sense of complicity
With all creation, as if its intent
Is entirely this sacrosanct moment.
No matter the cosmos is so immense,
Nor a fraction of it makes any sense.
For the living, those to be born, the dead,
This grand contrivance emerged and was wrought
Over eons from a singular mote,
So a human eye might witness the sacred.
Break bread beneath those stars, raise a glass of wine
And share in communion with the divine.
Or, no wine, nor bread, nor appurtenances
Of revelation: let the spirit soar
Without scriptures, creeds and such romances,
Written by rote with God as dictator.
Earth is consecrated through its being,
Heavens are made holy by the seeing
Of them through wondrous eyes. Jubilation
At being blessed with life, conscious creation,
Aware enough to rejoice, celebrate
With song and dance and poetry and paint,
Or sit in silence listening for the faint
Whisperings of transcendence. Contemplate
Or cry; whatever personally holds sway
In observing nature’s mystery play.
Consciousness is no fortunate mistake,
Some side effect: rather Man’s sentience
Affirms that the universe is awake
And its being self-aware no vague pretence.
Intelligent Design? Do not expect
God in the person of an architect,
It seems the cosmos has proclivity
To show immanent creativity.
Absence of perfection is not a loss
Of coherence, for it is in the flaw
Seeds are planted and there begin to grow.
Thesis – order! Antithesis – chaos!
This dynamic antimony suggests
An active principle that never rests.
Religions are all too human, thoughtful
Fabrications constructed in good faith
To shelter all who cannot help but mull
An idea as insubstantial as a wraith.
Word is treacherous, betrays its meaning,
So, those who are intent upon gleaning
Absolute definition, find the trial
Inconclusive, and settle for denial.
Reason lights a way between blind belief
And blinkered rebuttal, yet such a light
Casts much deeper shadows when it is bright,
And it is in darkness doubt finds its brief.
Science or sacred? Seek to heal this schism,
Embrace reason, the reason for Deism.
* Which was to be found