Easter: Read Between the Lines -

An atheist was cycling along in a built-up area when a car suddenly emerged from a narrow, one-way street without stopping to give way. However, the rider had a quick reflex and he swung his handlebars to the left just short of ploughing into the side of the car. The manoeuvre caused him to fly off his mount as the front wheel ploughed over the kerb. How he hated those wretched T-junctions, especially in an urban area when buildings on each side of the turning concealed any traffic approaching from the left.

He lay for a moment on the sidewalk, the bicycle next to him with the rear wheel still spinning while the front wheel suffered a buckle, rendering the whole machine unrideable. But worse than that, he was suffering pain where his impact with the unyielding concrete had grazed his skin at one knee joint, another graze at his left wrist and an ache at his hip indicating the formation of a bruise. At least his face and head were okay. A blow to the cranium could have been fatal. Perhaps, in future, the purchase of a cyclist's crash hat is a worthwhile investment.

He locked up his damaged bike onto a post, followed by a need to wait for the rest of the traffic to clear, then he crossed the road to make his way to a nearby Costa Coffee. As for the "idiot driver" - either he didn't see the cyclist approaching, or if he did, he must have put his foot down pretty sharpish, as the car was nowhere to be seen. How about the driver pausing to give an apology and to ensure that his victim was all right? Come off it! What planet do these fantasists live on?

Unfortunately, not the heavenly planet where God is supposed to be enthroned. And as he sat with a cappuccino and a croissant in front of him, he began to ask questions in his mind about this imaginary guy in the sky:-

You who sit on your cosy throne, surrounded by angels all pampering to your comforts, if you're there and suppose to love us so much, then why all this suffering? And why did that bloody idiot had gotten away without any hint of punishment?

I bet you had never felt any pain, not to suffer wounds where I could easily pick up a bug that causes sepsis and other stinking infections. No, of course not, not whilst sitting on your cosy throne. I bet you have never known what's it like to feel hungry or thirsty or to feel tired, exhausted, or covered in sweat, or even to feel cold.

And consider the evils of slavery. I bet that in your perfect world, you have never been humiliated, to be put in your place by your owners, to be made a mockery of. Huh! You don't have to be a slave to suffer that. Just take a look into the playground or in the gym locker room of my old school. And poor, spectacled Joe, with his paunchy belly and buck teeth. I bet you have never been pushed into a corner and kicked, along with all the revilings, teasing and laughter those bullies constantly throw at him. He sits crouched in the corner, his face buried in his arms, weeping silently, and already thinking about taking his own life. Hence the sheer worthlessness he feels, simply because he doesn't fit in with the crowd. Then the master arrives and barks at him, ordering him to change into his kit and join the rest of his class for the basketball lesson, knowing full well that no team captain would choose him.

And you know, God, about those born into slavery - just by forgetting to call his miserly master "Sir" -  he gets flogged with a leather whip across his naked back. Lash after lash pulverising his skin while he screams, begging for mercy while his master revels in his own evil satisfaction. While you continue to sit enthroned with all your angels playing on their harps, entertaining you.

You say that you created us. You say that you have people you call your own. Heavens! If there is such a lousy Designer, it has to be you, if you really exist up there in the sky.

At this point, the atheist pauses in his thinking. He takes a sip of his cappuccino, but the emotion he was suffering caused his throat to convulse slightly as he swallowed, sending the liquid down the wrong way. He started to cough raucously, attracting attention from the other customers, who looked on with sudden alarm as if he was a virus superspreader. One or two who were gazing at him in the queue turned and walked out of the coffee bar before their turn came to be served.

Feeling angry at their reaction, which is intensified by the constant ache he felt in his knee and wrist, he felt the need to defend himself. So he called out:

My cough isn't caused by the virus! I gulped and it went down the wrong way! There's nothing to worry about!

At a nearby table, a female toddler began to cry for no apparent reason. A small piece of cake can be seen quivering on her tongue as she wailed. The atheist, who is unmarried and having no children of his own, wondered what's it's like being a parent. It didn't cross his mind that the child was alarmed by the man's loud reassurance. As her mother tries to comfort her daughter by embracing her and sitting her on her own lap, the young man, still gazing towards the young girl as her crying ceased and swallowing her food, remained on the thought line of parenting, and he began to think about a very disturbing set of incidents that had brought unconsolable distress to one elderly father.

Poor little girl! I wonder whether I might have scared her. But those who walked out of the cafe - they make me sick! Geesh! Just as well this is not the Greater Manchester area. Those drug dealers living in this decrepit terraced house in a slum area. By heck! We might have colonised half the world during the days of Empire, but heaven help us, we are the masters of slum-ugliness when it comes to home-building. And all this makes me wonder what is there to be proud about.

Poor Toby! He set up his patch within the same turf as Larry and his lads. Larry then made very careful plans including giving away his mobile phone to one of his gang members so he couldn't be traced. He then invited Toby to come to his home to set up a drug deal. When Toby arrived, he was shot five times, all point-blank. Later, at the mortuary, the dead man's father was called in to identify him.

"Oh, bloody hell," he cried. "Yes, he's my son!" Wow, never would I have thought that such pity over his father's loss, combined with such a statement would send shivers down my spine. Supposing this hell is real. That's why I hate this Christian faith. There is this invisible man in the sky, sitting comfortably on his throne, and you must love him unconditionally or end up in hell. At least that was what Mum's church taught, anyway. As for Larry, well, right now he's serving more than thirty years in prison.

What a way to live! I guess a lack of proper education and thus, remaining unemployed has really screwed those lads up big time. And rather than claim benefits, they turn to drug dealing. Not merely to survive but to make big profits. And woe if you step on another's turf! Unless you're desperate to buy the field...

This invisible guy in the sky. If Mum's church is anything to go by, then those who call themselves God's people are a world away from all those I had described. Well-to-do, educated, holding down professional careers. There are even many undergrads who also meet there. Really, I don't understand at all.

Does God really associate himself with these guys? What with a life of comparative ease, maybe identifying themselves with this cushy number sitting on his heavenly throne. They say that one day they will be like him, for they shall see him as he is. One day in the future? Huh! They are just like him right now. All have a similar thing in common. A nice, cosy, middle-class family.

Again, the atheist pauses in his thoughts as he watches the mother at the nearby table rise and taking her daughter, lowered her into her pushchair. Although at that moment, many kids of her age would start crying over the loss of freedom to move around, this one didn't make too much of a fuss, only a couple of whimpers. Then the mother walks away, pushing her daughter's chair towards the door, leaving the table piled with an empty coffee mug, a cup half-full with orange juice, a plate with screwed up wrapping paper next to a piece of uneaten muffin, along with enough crumbs scattered across the small round table which will provide some work for the staff member responsible for clearing up.

As more people pour into the coffee bar, the atheist saw how a messy table was very successful in deterring everyone looking around for an unoccupied table to settle down at. As a vegan, the atheist also knew that he couldn't touch a muffin, as its ingredients include milk and eggs. Fortunately, it was possible to make a cappuccino with almond milk, an ingredient from a vegetable source. And to him, such a way of life is entirely justifiable, as he is free from the conscience that he is contributing to the intense suffering and slaughter of so many animals, including the forced separation of the calf from its mother, just to suit the tastebuds. A far cry from the Judeo/Christian culture of meat and dairy consumption.

Eventually, he rose from his table and made his way to the exit. He makes his way to the locked bicycle and unlocks it to wheel it to a bicycle shop a couple of blocks down the street. He has already decided that a new front wheel, identical to the old one, would suit both his bike and his pocket.

As he approached a narrow alley, he pauses, and still holding on to his bicycle, he looks up towards the sky, and cries out, oblivious to anyone within earshot:-

Oh God, I don't believe you exist - but if you do exist, I bet you have absolutely no idea what it's like to live as a human down here.

I bet that you have no idea what it's like to feel tired and hungry or to feel thirsty in hot, dry weather.

I bet that you have absolutely no idea what it's like to suffer rejection, to feel lonely, to feel what it's like to have all your friends desert you. I bet you have never experienced any form of bullying, just like poor Joe. I bet you never felt a pariah in society, to be mocked, teased, hated, made fun of. I bet you have no idea when you thought a best friend you thought you had, turned and betrayed you for the sole reason of making money and getting rich. 

And I bet that since you sit in comfort, enthroned in heaven, you have absolutely no idea what it's like to suffer pain. Unlike those poor, wretched slaves, I bet you had never felt the lash of a whip across your back. Unlike them, I bet that whilst sitting on that throne, you can't even imagine what it would be like to suffer flagellation - to have a whip with bits in to pulverise your skin to the point when you're almost about to lose consciousness, then leaving you lying on the ground whilst they laugh and mock at you. Yet history is full of such cruelty.

I bet you don't know what it's like to be put to death as a common criminal. And history does testify of those who were victims of a miscarriage of justice - they died while actually innocent. I bet you never went through any of that, O God. Just think of it. Some of these death sentences involve cruelty beyond which human imagination can ever devise. But you, O God, of course, would know nothing of the experience.

If you exist, you are just an invisible entity in the sky.

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We wish you all a happy Easter. God bless.