God And The Prostate Gland

     Recently I ran across a newspaper article that I found quite droll. The writer argued that there is no God. This is not what made his column droll. His premise did: He noted that the male urethra passes through the prostate gland, making it vulnerable in later life to constriction and urinary difficulties. Aha! said the writer. An "intelligent" creator would never have installed such a faulty system. He went on with notions in that vein.
     Now, adult males recognize certain Principles for Successful Living. One of them is this: In a public restroom, at half time of a ball game or a concert, don't get in line behind old guys. I can say from experience that this precept is valid. However, I had never thought to search it for theological import.
     And in any case, other anatomical mysteries interest me more. If ever I have the opportunity to quiz the Almighty, I'm going to ask about sinuses.  Doubtless my doctor could explain that they serve some purpose. (My doctor can explain a great deal more than he can remedy.) No matter.  I simply don't understand why they must occasion so much misery -- not to mention the television commercials.
     If we think about it in a certain way, God has a pretty good gig. He gets all the credit and none of the blame. He does have to put up with whining about his general failure to abide by standards of human understanding. If He did so, of course, He would be something considerably less than Almighty. In other words,  the whining says that God can be God only by agreeing not to be God. This kind of thinking strikes me as being -- well, droll.
     Nonetheless we persist in efforts to put parameters on deity. At one extreme we have "God is love," at the other "God hates fags."  Off to one side we have my favorite vernacular equivocation: "There ain't necessarily anybody up there, and if there is he ain't lookin'."  This is the spiritual equivalent of going through life shrugging, "whatever."  In youngsters we would call this  adolescent ennui.  In adults we call it agnosticism.
     Some of us claim extra authority in these matters of definition. One is Billy Graham's renegade son Franklin, who apparently considers rage  a pastoral skill.  On the issue of gay marriage, he rants that proponents are shaking their fists at God. As one of those proponents, I think that we are more nearly shaking our fists at Franklin Graham.  Not for the first time, the gentleman seems to be confused about who is Who.
     And the kerfuffle goes on.  Over on the Christian side of matters, the gospels warn that mere rules are not a means to grace. Meanwhile, major denominations specialize in rule-mongering. Pope Francis stirs excitement by declaring that greater room should be made for love. Skeptics say they'll believe he's serious when the Vatican gives all its treasure to the poor and sets up shop in a pole barn.
     Here in America, it  can be hard to tell the preachers from the politicians.  Some of the folks in the pulpit display an appetite for secular power. Some of the pols are ever so glad to have their endorsement.  I suppose they would say they are rendering what is Caesar's unto God.  They seem indifferent to the risk of rendering what is God's unto Caesar.
     Anyhow, what about that newspaper fellow who sees the answer to ultimate questions in his urinary tract?  Better writers would here discuss the pitfalls of false syllogism and circular reasoning. My plain-speaking country relatives might simply say that the guy got fascinated with his own cleverness and outsmarted himself.
     We do get fascinated with our own cleverness. And when the result is downright silly (see urinary tract, above) maybe we do prove something, in spite of ourselves. Maybe we prove that God enjoys a chuckle now and then.