How does an atheist die? Obviously, he dies the same way as everyone else. God doesn’t vanish because one of His creatures denies His existence. The universe, of which the atheist is a part, doesn’t evaporate when he expires. Angels will be the same as they ever were, and the spirits of those we call the dead still live in the House of Love.

I’ve been thinking about this lately because of the apparently terminal illness of Christopher Hitchens, a prominent atheist, which was in the news a little while ago. I don’t know Mr. Hitchens personally, and I haven’t read much of what he’s written. I’ve never attended any of his talks. He is, however, a prominent publicist for the atheist viewpoint, and he is known to be a very energetic, angry and articulate one. He said recently that if he ever turns away from atheism in the course of his illness, it will be the effect of medication, not a change in conviction.

Though Christopher Hitchens may be an arch and public skeptic, I’m not skeptical about what he says. The cancer he seems to be dying of is a very serious matter, even beyond its fatality. It’s almost invariably fatal. The symptoms are extremely unpleasant. Facing it with courage, and even defiance, is admirable from anyone’s point of view. I know that many people are praying for Christopher Hitchens, no matter how detestable he might find that sort of attention.

A long time ago, I heard someone say: Everyone dies alone. At this point, I must express my own skepticism. I doubt very much that anyone dies alone. Those of us who have glimpsed what Tolkien called the Imperishable Flame, or have known other signs of a reality beyond our ordinary consensus, think otherwise.

The universe doesn’t evaporate when an atheist dies, and neither does he. I believe that what happens next is up to him, and that anyone who beholds the glory of the Flame will not reject it, if only he can for a moment renounce pride and accept love.

ALONE

Shipwrecked on an island,
Himself the rounding sea
That he himself can summon,
His solitude is he

Wind his breath and vision,
Waves the heart and pulse,
Weather his decision,
There is nothing else

 

Inheritor of nothing
Except what he can think,
Rescue may be passing
Between each breath and blink

Immortal soul is mortal
Because his life is spent,
Dying is the portal
To empty firmaments

Light has been abolished
No stars have coalesced,
His emptiness is furnished
With less than emptiness

But rescue will be summoned
From far across the sea,
And he will be made welcome
If welcome he would be