Christopher Beha recently reviewed a number of "New Atheist" books for Harper's and came away particularly fascinated by the work of Duke University philosopher Alex Rosenberg. Rosenberg, almost alone, "insists that doing away with religion means doing away with most of what comes with it: a sense of order in the universe, the hope that life has some inherent meaning, even the belief in free will." What to do when you find yourself wanting to believe in God, but unable to, which Rosenberg describes as having "an itch and no way to scratch it"?
Rosenberg’s answer in his book is basically to ignore [the itch].
The modern world offers lots of help in this effort. To begin with, there are pharmaceuticals; Rosenberg strongly encourages those depressed by the emptiness of the Godless world to avail themselves of mood-altering drugs. Then there are the pleasures of acquisitive consumer culture—the making of money and the getting of things. My own, provisional solution rests in the way of art, and in particular in literature. Fiction, at its best, not only suggests but insists upon the possibility of some order in the world, even if we create or impose that order. Likewise, it insists that human experience has meaning, and that in that meaning lies a form of solace. Rosenberg’s response to all this, I’m sure, would be: more power to you. At the same time, he would urge me not to make the mistake of believing that the solace I find in art is any more real or meaningful than the solace others find from shopping or from altering the chemicals in their brains. To which I want to say, why not? By Rosenberg’s own reckoning, nihilism follows logically from atheism. But nihilism, in turn, leaves one unable to make normative demands of others—or, for that matter, oneself. Even the demand that one follow logic or not believe in God.
The Dish 