John is offering a series of three classes about atheism. While it would be simple for me to excuse myself as too busy... kids, jobs, costumes, meetings... I plunked down in a carved mahogany chair at the Cathedral for the first one. I did not attend because of wifely obligations. Mostly I wondered how the heck could he bring a shaft of resolution to such an impasse.

 

I heard every word.

 

Let me clarify that our dinner table conversation is tame. For the most part he resists informing me about recent discoveries in physics and technology, even though such things draw his attention. His family was one that regularly referred to the Unabridged Oxford Dictionary during supper, and haggled over word origins. But he long ago read the dull expression on my face when he dove into articles in Science News, back when it was a published magazine. Now he merely gives me the cliff notes. 

 

"There is progress on the hyperlink."

 

"Really? That's nice."

 

But in this class, which was ostensibly about the unsolvable conflict between belief in the Divine and disbelief, he had a power point that took me to the farthest edges of my mathematical mind, and then to the outskirts of my understanding of geometry. Which on account of being a quilter is none too shabby. Then just as I was about to cry uncle he brought it back to God. Which is my home turf. 

 

I laughed several times, as did other people. Which isn't what you would expect in a topic that could be considered somber. 

 

I am curious about the answers if he were to ask, which he didn't, why the people in the room believe in God. One woman expressed what she has come to hold as true. 

 

"I see two options. Either we trust that God is in charge, or that we are. I'm going with the first one."

 

Which works for me.