I wanted to be able to blindly believe in something that might make me feel better, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I feel much the same about the Church as I do about dead bodies—that they can both provide consolation, but only if you’re willing to ignore some harsh truths. I find no more comfort in whispering in a dead person’s ear than I do in whispering to a made-up God in the dark. Though sometimes I envy the fools who can.
