God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything

Let us begin our journey with a gentle breeze of inquiry, a question that drifts quietly into our minds when we are young and curious. Imagine a child, eyes wide with wonder, walking through a sunlit field, guided by a kindly teacher who points out the marvels of nature—the birds, the trees, the intricate patterns of a leaf. In these moments, before the weight of doctrine settles, the mind is open, unafraid to ask why the world is the way it is. Why is the grass green? Why do we pray every morning? Why do some stories in the holy books seem so strange?

For many, the first lessons in religion come not from fiery sermons, but from gentle rituals and scripture classes. There, we are taught to read a single verse, to seek its meaning, and to share our insights. But some of us, perhaps a bit more curious, read before and after the verse, searching for context, for the story behind the story. This habit, innocently encouraged, becomes the seed of critical thought. We begin to notice that not every answer satisfies, that some explanations feel circular or incomplete.

Then comes a pivotal moment—a teacher, perhaps with the best intentions, tells us that the world is made just for us. The grass is green because it is restful to our eyes. The birds sing to delight us. But something inside us stirs, a quiet voice that wonders if perhaps the world is not designed for us at all. Maybe, just maybe, our eyes have evolved to see the green that is already there, and the world is indifferent to our comfort. This realization is not a thunderclap, but a gentle awakening—a shift from seeing ourselves as the center of creation to understanding that we are part of a vast, indifferent universe.

As we grow, these early doubts are joined by others. Why must we praise a creator endlessly for doing what comes naturally? Why does prayer so often go unanswered? Why are we taught to feel shame for our desires? Each question is a pebble in the shoe, a small discomfort that grows with every step.

Yet, rather than crushing us, these doubts become the foundation of a deeper wisdom. We learn that it is not arrogance to question, but humility—to admit that we do not know, and to seek truth wherever it may lead. We discover that literature, art, and science offer their own forms of wonder and awe, and that ethical living does not require threats of hell or promises of heaven. As we leave this first field of inquiry, we carry with us the gentle lesson that the path to understanding begins with a single, honest question. Let us now walk forward, into the world where belief meets action, and see how faith shapes the lives of individuals and societies.