Christopher Hitchens is an author with a masterful domination of language and a compelling use of irony, who writes about only one thing: Christopher Hitchens.
His writings turn on the axis of his own experience, twisting a theme every which way to examine how or if it relates to Mr. Hitchens’ own encounters. This is the definition of an essayist and Christopher is one of the best writing in English these days. But there is a reason that we hire teachers and not essayists in our schools: truth is always larger than one person’s experience.
His latest essay, stretched into book length, proposes that “religion poisons everything.” This is a valid observation only if we add the tag appropriate to an essay: “everything FOR ME.” However, adding such a qualifier would grant equal status to the opinions of most of the human race, a premise that Hitchens’ arrogance does not entertain. Hitchens never quite grasps the profundity of the Chesterton’s observation to the effect that Christianity is not so much a religion tried and found wanting as a religion that is still wanting to be tried. In arguing that religious people have spread poison he avoids applying the same criteria to professed atheists like Robespierre, Nietzsche, Pol Pot, Stalin, Jeffery Dahmer, etc. Perhaps favoritism to one’s own (Hitchens says he is an atheist) is understandable, but objectivity is preferable in pursuit of truth.
The argument that religion is a human invention is trumpeted by Hitchens with an innuendo that his revelation has now discredited all the world’s theology. In fact, theologians have always said as much, but with considerable more insight than Christopher. St. Thomas Aquinas, just to cite one well recognized source, says that the “supernatural” in religion comes not from its rituals, practices or belief in the afterlife, but from its terminus or final cause. Religion can be compared to a bridge we build to link our earthly existence with the great beyond. (This applies to all religions not just Christianity.) The bridge may be constructed by the experiences of dreams, mystical visions, emotions, or logic like that of Aristotle’s Unmoved First Mover. Admittedly such elements of composition are human, but because the bridge serves a metaphysical purpose that is beyond the merely material, it is qualitatively different from any simple human invention.
To continue the analogy, Hitchens stands on the earthly side of the bridge, and says because he personally hasn’t seen anything supernatural on the other side, it can’t possibly exist. He then asks disdainfully: “Why would anyone wish to cross over on this man-made bridge?” In his mind, the question is merely rhetorical; but even a first-grader knows the answer: “To get to the other side.”
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