Believer: You know this well-known saying ‘There are no atheists in foxholes’?

Myself: Yes I do. And I think it’s very true.

Believer: You do? Now, that’s surprising!

Myself: Well, I can think of many desperate situations where people who have never prayed in their lives, call out to God for help, apart from the poor soldiers trapped in their foxholes, their hiding place discovered by the enemy, and quaking in terror because they’re about to be blown up.

Believer: That’s good! Let’s hear your many instances.

Myself: Well, we have all heard about the last-minute deathbed conversion when the dying atheist suddenly does a turn-around and asks to be baptised; the hardened prisoner in his death-cell awaiting execution, resisting the efforts of the priest to convert him, and then, at the very last moment, just before the hangman’s noose is about to go round his neck, he asks for the priest. And I imagine that in times of crisis, such as after an earthquake or tsunami, those who pray to God for help include non-believers. Maybe there are no atheists, not only in foxholes, but in a plane about to crash. Or a sinking ship. Or a flaming building.

Believer: So you agree that it is not only believers who cry out to God. Why do you think this is so?

Myself: The most obvious reason, when death is staring them in the face, is for some last-minute miracle to save them. If no miracle happens, then the next best thing, if the body can’t be saved, is to make sure that the soul is not lost too. You know, the terror of going into the unknown.

Believer: So you believe in the existence of a soul?

Myself: I didn’t say that. I was just analysing the situation for an explanation, and as you know, an explanation is an objective, not a subjective thing.

Believer: Suppose you were in a foxhole?

Myself: Well, I certainly hope that would never come about!

Believer: But just suppose you were. Anything is possible. Suppose you were in a real foxhole, say, in a bus about to crash into a ravine, in a plane that had caught fire. Wouldn’t you be desperate enough to pray to God for help?

Myself: I’m not so sure. In the first place, I don’t really believe in miracles, in the sudden intervention of divine power, because for every ‘miracle’ that has occurred, there must be ninety nine, or nine hundred and ninety nine prayers that go unanswered. Secondly, I suspect for a rather stubborn person like myself, the mental habit of so many years cannot be eradicated in an instant. Thirdly—and you may be amused by this—even if it could and I became transformed into a believer, I think I would be too abashed, in death, to turn to God whom I’d neglected in life. I would feel rather ‘pai say’; you know the Hokkien term which means ‘to feel bad’?

Believer: You are in a foxhole, and you talk about feeling bad for turning to the Divine Creator who is only too ready to welcome back the Prodigal Son—or Daughter?

Myself: That’s true; I’m afraid this ‘pai say’ thing is just one of those by-products of my over-developed sense of independence. I’m not even sure it’s a good thing. But I would certainly feel bad about going to God and striking a kind of bargain with him: ‘God, I don’t believe in you, but if you save me, I will!’ It smacks of too much presumption and arrogance. If I were in God’s place, I wouldn’t be too pleased!

Believer: I still say that deep down, you believe that ultimately there are no atheists in foxholes. You know why? Because you love life too much! Faced with its loss, no ideology, no belief system, no-ism of any sort is worth holding on to any more. They’re all just abstractions, compared to the living, breathing, pulsating thing we call life.

Myself: Maybe you’re right. I simply love life! But not ‘too much’, as you’ve put it. There is a line beyond which I wouldn’t go, not even to save my life. I would like to think there is something even more important than life itself.

Believer: Pray, what can that be?

Myself: Something that we call principle. Or transcendence. Or integrity. I think I like the last term best. An integer, something that remains whole, despite the forces that threaten to fracture it.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...