The question that haunts the God Seeker

The quest for God

It is interesting that the word quest, as in spiritual quest, so easily becomes the word question.

Questioning every aspect of life — from mundane matters to profound spiritual beliefs — is what keeps the human mind engaged.

And the question that transcends all questions, in my opinion, is and always will be: Is there God? Not a God, but God, purely and simply (although hardly simple), God.

Whether we admit it or not, that question, if not always in our cluttered minds, is certainly in our hearts.


The agnostic and to some extent the atheist will say the question is of zero interest to them. Their minds are made up — there is no God. But that kind of arrogance is as annoying as the crazed fervor of some evangelists.

The non- and never-believers want evidence that God exists. Faith isn’t enough for them.

But such evidence is currently, and possibly as impossibly unfathomable and unknowable as radio waves were to the cavemen of a million years ago. Yet radio waves and other “miracles” in the electromagnetic spectrum were in fact ultimately revealed over time — as unknown others may also be discovered in an impossible universe where, I suggest, anything is possible.


If there is God, then all is well with life — and death. But if there is no God we are all lost. Life, in the end — even though we may have had a “good life” — becomes an empty shell, a cosmic fraud, a godless dirty trick. If that is the case, for one thing, the main thing I would say, we will never be reunited or in communion in some unknown Godly and mystical way with our lost loved ones.

We will mourn them for the rest of our lives and stubbornly live in the hope and prayers we will be with them — again, in that unknown and unknowable way — but if that hope is false and all our prayers are based on a diabolical delusion inflicted upon us by a flawed theology and a Christian concept that is contradicted by history and science and common sense, then we are all doomed to oblivion and the nothingness that existed before we were born, when we knew nothing, experienced nothing, were aware of nothing because we didn’t exist and were in fact nonexistent.


Therefore, in order to survive the tragedies in life, one creates or at least imagines a spiritual place or space, a realm, a supernatural sphere, a dimension, and as-yet undiscovered wave-length within a universe of 200 billion galaxies — call it Heaven if you want — where one may, however remotely, but hope-beyond-hopefully, find the spirit, the soul if you will, of lost loved ones; because even if one doesn’t believe in God, one believed and continues to believe in our loved ones — whether they be wife, husband, soulmate, companion, child, sister, brother, best friend, whomever.

They were real. But now they are dead and no longer real, one can only hope that they are surreal and therefore spiritually communicable. But if that is not the reality, by which of course in this context I mean the surreality, then all is lost and emptiness and meaningless awaits us all.

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Here’s looking at you, Death.

A 97-year-old Philosopher Looks at Death and the Meaning of Life

His Enigmatic Last Words May Be Key to the Mystery

The day before he died in 2018, after many hours in silence with his eyes closed, Herbert Fingarette suddenly looked up and said, “Well, that’s clear enough!”

His grandson, Andrew Hasse, notes that his last message is open to interpretation, “but I’d like to believe that he might have seen at least a glimpse of something beyond death.”

Hasse made this video Being 97 of his grandfather’s last days. Note the quiet dedication of the caregiver Sherly Pontis.

The following is reprinted from Richard Wagner’s The Amateur’s Guide to Death and Dying

In his 1996 book about death, Herbert Fingarette argued that fearing one’s own demise was irrational. When you die, he wrote, “there is nothing.” Why should we fear the absence of being when we won’t be there ourselves to suffer it?

Twenty years later, facing his own mortality, the philosopher realized that he had been wrong. Death began to frighten him, and he couldn’t think himself out of it.

Fingarette, who for 40 years taught philosophy at the University of California at Santa Barbara, had also written extensively on self-deception. Now, at 97, he wondered whether he’d been deceiving himself about the meaning of life and death.

“It haunts me, the idea of dying soon, whether there’s a good reason or not,” he says in the documentary Being 97. “I walk around often and ask myself, ‘What is the point of it all?’ There must be something I’m missing. I wish I knew.”

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