Violins in Flight                         
 The Chapters of a Pilot's Life on Instruments

                                         The Beautiful and The Godless








I don't believe in God, which explains why I have so few friends on Facebook and why my music and words have no redeeming value. (I'm only half serious. But which half?)

In my defense—not that this is a defense—I've attended church perhaps 50 times during my life, which is nearly 50 more times than I've attended any other place of worship. Continuing onward or maybe downward in a spiral....

Around the age of 30, I spent a few years where virtually everyone in my life was struggling with one serious issue or another, often ending up addicted to drugs or alcohol or both. Those strugglers and the people who cared for and about them were among the most beautiful people I've ever known. They still are.

What does that have to do with my not believing in God? Well, when beautiful people are abused, think raped, or otherwise neglected and betrayed in the worst imaginable ways, disbelieving in God isn't a bridge too far. And yet, it's nearly always the beautiful strugglers—the downtrodden, the stigmatized, the abandoned—who cause me to question my disbelief.

Which brings me to a little munchkin named Kaspar Weiss.

Kaspar lives in an orphanage, parentless and penniless, but with one thing in his favor. He has a God-given gift. (Yes, I know. I wrote God-given because I don't know what else to call it. So go ahead and call me a hypocrite, but at least I'm a godless hypocrite, as if there's any other kind.)

At the orphanage, the Christian monks are imbued with God. (Again, I don't know what else to call it.) Their most fervent wish is to somehow make it possible for Kaspar to fulfill his dream of becoming a famous violinist.

And then there's the teacher, Monsieur Poussin, who takes Kaspar under his wings and loves him to the point where both he and his wife become like doting parents to the orphaned boy. And even though the Poussins have barely enough money to support themselves, they're able to give Kaspar the home and the mother and father he's never had.

And yes, I suppose the Poussins are imbued with God, too.  And yes, I suppose they and all those who care for Kaspar make me want to believe in God.  Until Kaspar dies.
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As most of you gladly know, God has more important priorities than taking care of Kaspar Weiss and all the other little munchkins of this world.

After all, amidst bronze statues befitting a despot's gold toilet opulence, what could demonstrate God's love for his people more than making sure that rapists and child molesters are protected and coddled and making doubly sure that the best friends of rapists and child molesters live long lives brimming with, yes, gold toilets and other even more loathsome American luxuries?

Indeed, God loves America so much—USA! USA! USA!—that His worshippers demonstrate their devotion by cheering for the most vile, morally decrepit men and women on the face of the earth.

No, I don't blame God—whether or not He exists—for that. I blame the godless church-going cross-wearing cult for that.  I mean, if there is a God, who could be so heartless as to stand with people who turn their backs on the vulnerable and the strugglers and do so in the name of God?

Simply put: Who among you would stand with the worst of us?

Who would stand with the nazis and white supremacists and oath keepers and proud boys and all the other January 6, 2021 patriots sent on a mission to hang or otherwise kill traitors in accordance with the principles that empathy and compassion and accepting defeat are unmanly weaknesses as proclaimed by their bone spur draft dodging golden-toilet-god?

Who in his right mind amongst you would be okay with any of that?
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Speaking of empathy and compassion, speaking of the very best of manhood and mankind, I love the Christian monks and Monsieur Poussin and above all the supernal courage of the world's fragile munchkins because they temper my disbelief in God.

And I'm okay with that.