It is said that while the Germans were desecrating a church somewhere in Poland some German sergeant, cockeyed with excitement, stood up in front of the altar and yelled out that if there was a God He would want to prove His existence at once by striking down such a bold and important and terrifying fellow as this sergeant. God did not strike him down. The sergeant went away still excited, and probably the unhappiest man in the world: God had not acted like a Nazi. God was not, in fact, a Nazi, and God’s justice (which everybody obscurely knows in his bones, no matter what he tries to say he thinks), is inexpressibly different from the petty bloodthirsty revenge of Nazis over one another.
If God is dead, somebody is going to have to take his place.
It will be megalomania or erotomania, the drive for power
or the drive for pleasure, the clenched fist or the phallus,
Hitler or Hugh Hefner.