In reviewing the polemical, vitriolic works of such “New Atheists” as Dawkins, Hitchens, Harris and Dennet in his book Atheist Delusions, David Bentley Hart looks wistfully back upon the more nuanced, honest and tragic atheism of thinkers like Nietzche and Sartre, and concludes with this lament: “It probably says more than it is comfortable to know about the relative vapidity of our culture that we have lost the capacity to produce profound unbelief” (p. 220). 

In working my way through Blaise Pascal’s illuminating Pensees (“Thoughts”), I was struck by his evaluation of the moral unseriousness of certain skeptical atheists he was familiar with in his day.  In many ways, these exact words could be used to describe the attitude behind much of the currently popular atheism on tap for us.  (Warning: this is a long passage I have quoted, but I consider it worth reproducing in full):

427. Let them [skeptics] at least learn what this religion is which they are attacking before attacking it.  If this religion boasted that it had a clear sight of God and plain and manifest evidence of his existence, it would be an effective objection to say that there is nothing to be seen in this world which proves him so obviously.  But since on the contrary it says that men are in darkness and remote from God, that he has hidden himself from their understanding, that this is the very name which he gives himself in Scripture: Deus absonditus [the hidden God]; and, in a word, if it strives equally to establish these two facts: that God has appointed visible signs in the Church so that he shall be recognized by those who genuinely seek him, and that he has none the less hidden them in such a way that he will only be perceived by those who seek him with all their heart, then what advantage can they derive when, unconcerned to seek the truth as they profess to be, they protest that nothing shows it to them?  For the obscurity in which they find themselves, and which they use as an objection against the Church, simply establishes one of the things the Church maintains without affecting the other, and far from proving her teaching false, confirms it.

In order really to attack the truth they would have to protest that they had made every effort to seek it everywhere, even in what the Church offers by way of instruction, but without any satisfaction.  If they talked like that they would indeed be attacking one of Christianity’s claims.  But I hope to show here that no reasonable person could talk like that.  I even venture to say that no one has ever done so.  We know well enough how people in this frame of mind behave.  They think that they have made great efforts to learn when they have spent a few hours reading some book of the Bible, and have questioned some ecclesiastic about the truths of the faith.  After that they boast that they have sought without success in books and among men.  But, in fact, I should say to them what I have often said: such negligence is intolerable.  It is not a question here of the trifling interest of some stranger prompting such behavior: it is a question of ourselves, and our all.

The immortality of the soul is something of such vital importance to us, affecting us so deeply, that one must have lost all feeling not to care about knowing the facts of the matter.  All our actions and thoughts must follow such different paths, according to whether there is hope of eternal blessings or not, that the only possible way of acting with sense and judgment is to decide our course in the light of this point, which ought to be our ultimate objective.

Thus, our chief interest and chief duty is to seek enlightenment on this subject, on which all our conduct depends.  And that is why, amongst those who are not convinced, I make an absolute distinction between those who strive with all their might to learn and those who live without troubling themselves or thinking about it.

I can feel nothing but compassion for those who sincerely lament their doubt, who regard it as the ultimate misfortune, and who, sparing no effort to escape from it, make their search their principal and most serious business.  But as for those who spend their lives without a thought for this final end of life and who, solely because they do not find within themselves the light of conviction, neglect to look elsewhere, and to examine thoroughly whether this opinion is one of those which people accept out of credulous simplicity or one of those which, though obscure in themselves, none the less have a most solid and unshakeable foundation: as for them, I view them very differently.

This negligence in a matter where they themselves, their eternity, their all are at stake, fills me more with irritation than pity; it astounds and appalls me; it seems quite monstrous to me.  I do not say this prompted by the pious zeal of spiritual devotion.  I mean on the contrary that we ought to have this feeling from principles of human interest and self-esteem.  For that we need only see what the least enlightened see.

One needs no great sublimity of soul to realize that in this life there is no true and solid satisfaction, that all our pleasures are mere vanity, that our afflictions are infinite, and finally that death which threatens us at every moment must in a few years infallibly face us with the inescapable and appalling alternative of being annihilated or wretched throughout eternity. 

Nothing could be more real, or more dreadful than that.  Let us put on as bold a face as we like: that is the end awaiting the world’s most illustrious life.  Let us ponder these things, and then say whether it is not beyond doubt that the only good thing in this life is the hope of another life, that we become happy only as we come nearer to it, and that, just as no more unhappiness awaits those who have been quite certain of eternity, so there is no happiness for those who have no inkling of it.

It is therefore quite certainly a great evil to have such doubts, but it is at least an indispensable obligation to seek when one does thus doubt; so the doubter who does not seek is at the same time very unhappy and very wrong.  If in addition he feels a calm satisfaction, which he openly professes, and even regards as a reason for joy and vanity, I can find no terms to describe so extravagant a creature.

What can give rise to such feelings?  What reason for joy can be found in the expectation of nothing but helpless wretchedness?  What reason for vanity in being plunged into impenetrable darkness?  And how can such an argument as this occur to a reasonable man?

‘I do not know who put me into the world, nor what the world is, nor what I am myself.  I am terribly ignorant about everything.  I do not know what my body is, or my senses, or my soul, or even that part of me which thinks what I am saying, which reflects about everything and about itself, and does not know itself any better than it knows anything else. 

‘I see the terrifying spaces of the universe hemming me in, and I find myself attached to one corner of this vast expanse without knowing why I have been put in this place rather than that, or why the brief span of life allotted to me should be assigned to one moment rather than another of all the eternity which went before me and all that which will come after me.  I see only infinity on every side, hemming me in like an atom or like the shadow of a fleeting instant.  All I know is that I must soon die, but what I know least about is this very death which I cannot evade. 

‘Just as I do not know whence I came, so I do not know whither I am going.  All I know is that when I leave this world I shall fall for ever into nothingness or into the hands of a wrathful God, but I do not know which of these two states is to be my eternal lot.  Such is my state, full of weakness and uncertainty.  And my conclusion from all this is that I must pass my days without a thought of seeking what is to happen to me.  Perhaps I might find some enlightenment in my doubts, but I do not want to take the trouble, nor take a step to look for it: and afterwards, as I sneer at those who are striving to this end—(whatever certainty they have should arise despair rather than vanity)—I will go without fear or foresight to face so momentous an event, and allow myself to be carried off limply to my death, uncertain of my future state for all eternity.’

Who would wish to have as his friend a man who argued like that?  Who would choose him from among others as a confidant in his affairs?  Who would resort to him in adversity?  To what use in life could he possibly be turned? 

It is truly glorious for religion to have such unreasonable men as enemies: their opposition represents so small a danger that it serves on the contrary to establish the truths of religion.  For the Christian faith consists almost wholly in establishing these two things: the corruption of nature and the redemption of Christ.  Now, I maintain that, if they do not serve to prove the truth of the redemption by the sanctity of their conduct, they do at least admirably serve to prove the corruption of nature by such unnatural sentiments. 

Nothing is so important to man as his state: nothing more fearful than eternity.  Thus the fact that there exist men who are indifferent to the loss of their being and the peril of an eternity of wretchedness is against nature.  With everything else they are quite different; they fear the most trifling things, foresee and feel them; and the same man who spends so many days and nights in fury and despair at losing some office or at some imaginary affront to his honor is the very one who knows that he is going to lose everything through death but feels neither anxiety nor emotion.  It is a monstrous thing to see one and the same heart at once so insensitive to minor things and so strangely insensitive to the greatest…

Now what advantage is it to us to hear someone say he has shaken off the yoke, that he does not believe that there is a God watching over his actions, that he considers himself sole master of his behavior, and that he proposes to account for it to no one but himself?  Does he think that by so doing he has henceforth won our full confidence, and made us expect from him consolation, counsel and assistance in all life’s needs?  Do they think that they have given us great pleasure by telling us that they hold our soul to be no more than wind or smoke, and saying it moreover in tones of pride and satisfaction?  Is this then something to be said gaily?  Is it not on the contrary something to be said sadly, as being the saddest thing in the world?…

There is no surer sign of extreme weakness of mind than the failure to recognize the unhappy state of a man without God; there is no surer sign of an evil heart than failure to desire that the eternal promises be true; nothing is more cowardly than to brazen it out with God.  Let them leave such impiety to those ill-bred enough to be really capable of it; let them at least be decent people if they cannot be Christians; let them, in short, acknowledge that there are only two classes of persons who can be called reasonable: those who serve God with all their heart because they know him and those who seek him with all their heart because they do not know him.

As for those who live without either knowing or seeking him, they consider it so little worthwhile to take trouble over themselves that they are not worth other people’s trouble, and it takes all the charity of that religion they despise not to despise them to the point of abandoning them to their folly.  But as this religion obliges us always to regard them, as long as they live, as being capable of receiving grace which may enlighten them, and to believe that in a short time they may be filled with more faith than we are, while we on the contrary may be stricken by the same blindness which is theirs now, we must do for them what we would wish to be done for us in their place, and appeal to them to have pity on themselves, and to take at least a few steps in an attempt to find some light.”