So says Bill Maher, swashbuckling across Megiddo, Israel-prophesized site of apocalypse.
Thus concludes a rather sensational five-minute tirade in Larry Charles' post-"Borat" docu-comedy jab at a taboo topic: religion.
But why is religion taboo? I wondered, slinking out of "Religulous" with the creepy guy in the corner, as if we had just seen a Monday showing at the porn theater. Religion has fastened itself to an otherwise rational modern society, a society where holographic Will.i.ams are possible. Yet, cable comedians are left to point out a Bronze Age absurdity when the world's classier intellectuals won't.
Take politics, for example. Politics isn't cozying up to religion. Politics is straddling religion in the post-marital bedroom hoping for orgasmic results. Bush defined foreign policy within the context of good and evil. Both candidates revved up the God-loving rhetoric. Don't forget about Palin the creationist, Romney the Mormon, Huckabee the ordained evangelical preacher. And then there was Dole's PSA slamming Hagan's "Godlessness" as if it were a minority poor tax.
But who cares about that whole separation of church and state farce when religious institutions can mobilize voters and faith can bump a partisan platform?
In Bible country, it is anti-religious conversation that is taboo. In fact, it's the reason this column is coming out now instead of a month ago when my brain exploded in Trinity Cafe. The aneurism occurred during an overheard monologue that went something like: "OMG, this guy in class called the Bible literature and I was like, no, it's not just literature, but I, like, didn't have the words to argue with him even though he was so wrong."
(My rational sister told me it was too controversial-best if I "chew" on the subject some more. Well, I chewed.)
Religion is a taboo topic, but a fundamental problem. Religion is a problem because it has infused modern government with casual mystic jargon. For atheists and agnostics, attempting to extricate religion from the 500 thread count fabric of democracy is too colossal an effort to tackle. And you can't mobilize members of a non-creed. (Technically, there's Godless Americans, but I hesitate to bravo an organization that defines its non-religiosity in the context of religion.) If religion remains wedged in our sociopolitical dialogue, if religion has the smallest influence on, say, our military decisions, then religion is potentially dangerous-religion is problematic.
Before the pious can damn me to a fiery fate, I might add that I'm not an atheist. Call me spiritual if you must, interested in conversations of teleology and pantheism. Steven Hawking and Stephen Colbert can leave room for a God (I can too!). But my "God" stays safely in the interior, along with my Ayn Rand quotes.
And that's where Maher, in all his iniquitous questioning, makes a sensational and yet terrifyingly rational statement: If theological apocalypse has become a self-fulfilling prophecy made real by nuclear technology, can we trust a body of believers at the governmental helm?
Maher is, of course, somewhat of a drama queen. But you've got to hand it to him: He is a plucky David slinging jokes at the Goliath that is religion (forgive the parable). Even if Maher wields a partisan pitchfork with the nuance of a FOX news broadcast, he asks a viable question most lack the energy or nerve to talk about. Why? Because the average Joe skeptic has to watch out for the average Joe Judeo-Christian's emotional retaliation.
But back to my sister's comment: Why was I forced to chew? Why can Maher's interviewees define their argument within a context of faith, of abstraction, while I fear the wrath of a jealous God and even worse, livid readers?
I know we live in difficult times. I understand that men need a sense of hope-a figure to have faith in now more than ever. All I'm saying is that maybe instead of God we can find solace in people. We can give credit to man. You have faith in God. I have faith in smart people. Brian Williams, humbled by the significance of Barack Obama's once unimaginable presidency, wondered what the children of the next century might witness. I hope it will be a rational dialogue, a formidable peace struck by the morality of people on behalf of people not dependent on the blessings of God.
Ultimately, like Maher, I confess that I don't know what the hell or heaven I'm talking about. Neither do you. But someone needs to talk about the big Godly elephant in the room.
Janet Wu is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Friday.
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