God: Hello there. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m God.
Rational Man: God.
God: Yes?
Rational Man: No, I mean, so you’re telling me you’re a god.
God: No, God. There’s only one, and that’s me.
Rational Man: I don’t believe you.
God: Why?
Rational Man: Would you believe me If I said I was Superman?
God: Of course not. I know who you are.
Rational Man: That may or may not be, but if I say I am Superman, you won’t believe me. I don’t blame you. If you say you are God, you might as well have said you were Superman.
God: Ah, well. This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve been doubted. Suppose you want proof?
Rational Man: Yes.
God: No faith, eh?
Rational Man: No. I may have “faith” that there is a country called Australia in the southern hemisphere, and that if I took a plane there I could go to Sydney and see the famous opera house. However, if some guy walks up to me on the beach and says he’s God, well, yes, I want proof. But let’s agree on what “proof” means.
God: Fair enough.
Rational Man: You have to offer logical, irrefutable proof that you are, indeed, God, creator of the universe, etc. I take it that pretty much sums up what you are claiming?
God: That sums it up quite nicely, yes.
Rational Man: Ready when you are.
God: (points at a seashell - it rises into the air) How’s that?
Rational Man: (runs his hand over and under the shell, even grabs hold of it then lets it go) Not bad. But I’m afraid that doesn’t prove anything.
God: What? No one can do what I just did.
Rational Man: That’s true, if you even did it at all. I saw a guy make the Statue of Liberty disappear once, at least from the viewpoint of the observer.
God: So you don’t believe what you can see? Or touch even?
Rational Man: I do when doing so helps me get through my day. But, as I said, claiming to be God is a bit bigger and more important. So, all I know right now is that either A: My brain is being told something is happening that isn’t, or B: You are a creature that has powers that are currently outside of my understanding.
God: Bingo! You’ve never seen anyone levitate a seashell. And I promise I am not manipulating your brain.
Rational Man: Two hundred years ago, no one had seen a television, but the laws of physics that allow televisions to do what they do existed two hundred years ago. I don’t know how you can levitate a seashell, but that does nothing to persuade me that you are the supreme creator of the universe.
God: Fine. How about this? (waves his hand, and they are standing in front of the opera house in Sydney, Australia)
Rational Man: Impressive. I’m going to leave the whole sensory input manipulation argument behind, just because it would bring an abrupt end to our discussion. (several people gasp when they realize two men materialized out of nowhere) Teleportation. Nice trick. You are indeed powerful, or at least have a device or something I have no knowledge of.
God: Device? You know, 2,000 years ago, people were more easy to impress.
Rational Man: I’m quite impressed. But again, I’m impressed when I see a Rembrandt painting. I have no idea how he was able to make a gold chain around someone’s neck with just a few small brush strokes. But Rembrandt is not God.
God: No, I am.
Rational Man: Can’t help you.
God: So what if I just caused you to cease to exist?
Rational Man: Anyone with a gun or a pointed stick could bring that about.
God: I don’t mean kill you, I mean un-make you.
Rational Man: And the difference to me would be?
God: Your soul would no longer exist.
Rational Man: I don’t believe in a soul. I have no evidence. Now, being a rational man, and a logical thinker, I know I cannot prove a negative. I can’t prove there isn’t a soul, but until I have evidence of some kind, I can’t say I believe in them, either. Same for you.
God: So I could turn the sky blood red.
Rational Man: That would be impressive. You certainly must be the most powerful being I have ever encountered.
God: Isn’t that enough?
Rational Man: No, sorry. I will have to add “powerful beings” to the list of things I have observed, but someone else may come along, claim they are Thor, and outdo you.
God: Thor does not exist.
Rational Man: So you say. How would you prove it?
God: I can see where this is going.
Rational Man: Good. I was kind of getting bored with the whole process.
God: So what you are saying is that, because you are this so-called “rational” man, that no amount of proof would convince you that I am God?
Rational Man: I’m afraid so. My limitation, I’m afraid. I guess that would be the nature of the whole “faith” thing.
God: Yes.
Rational Man: Sorry. As I said, I only have “faith” in a limited list of processes, only because I would hate to have to take the time to test and verify gravity before I got out of bed every morning. But, since I can’t prove a negative, I can’t stand here and say with absolute conviction as a rational man, that you are not God. So, if you are, and all that stuff about Heaven and Hell and miracles and such is true, hopefully you’ll take into consideration that you gave me a brain to think with. And if I have to not use what you gave me to be on your good side, I can’t help that.
God: Can’t promise you anything.
Rational Man: Didn’t think so. Don’t suppose you could teach me that teleport trick?
God: Afraid not.
Rational Man: Thought so. But can you send me back to the beach? It’s a long walk from Sydney.
(poof)
The rational man found himself alone again on the beach, with only one set of footprints behind him, which was proof only that he had walked there himself. And that would have to do.