An Open Letter to Christopher Hitchens

Read this. Read it In its entirety, and then return here. There are no words I could write that could better express this situation and it would be foolish to try.

Now onto the matter at hand:

Hitchens gave me my voice. Though Harris may have dragged me from Pascal’s flimsy wager and Dawkins may have prepared me to push back against those who would claim science’s support, it was Christopher Hitchens who gave me the courage to talk. Though Daniel Dennett and Penn Gillette may offer varying opinions on matters of religious sanctimony, it was Hitchens who showed me how the faithless could speak with the same dignified conviction usually reserved for the faithful. By example, Hitchens taught me how to carry myself in the face of an onslaught. He taught me how to change hearts and minds by being the person—occasionally abrasive, but always considerate and therefore charming—that I was born to be.

For me, Hitchens is more than an atheist. He is more than a writer and a debater: he is the man that I wish I had known when I was twelve years old, when I fell into religion for want of an alternative. The allure of basketball down at the Mormon Church or chaste, hand-holding dances would have held no sway had there been a man of his caliber to guide me. Had I been offered a dissenting opinion, one with courage, with questions, and with introspection, I would never have experienced my own intellectual dark age. Had there been books with purposes and poets with deeper messages; had there been unbiased conversation and a solid review of history, I never would have seen the inside of those dingy halls. Had there been one man certain enough of himself to offer his side of the story, I may have learned about the world. I may have had truth.

The fact that it wasn’t to be—that I had no one willing to question my ill-gotten faith—is of little consequence now. But I do wonder. I wonder what it could have been like to have had that even keel through adolescence, to have been offered the chance to learn who I was (and who I could be), at that young age. How many times I could have stood up for myself and others. How many chances I missed to really learn about the world, about myself, and about the society in which I live. How much more I could know now. Where my ambitions could have led me, had I seen the purpose of the Ivy League and the worth of true academia instead of waiting for chance and God to guide me.

Though his is fast fading, Hitchens has given his voice to me and many others. We are unafraid to broach the bigger topics in life because of his example. We are happy to talk to others about our lack of faith which, it must be said, is not a lack. It is a great gift that we have been given, this view from the shoulders of giants, and I cherish it every day of my life.

Though he may never read this, I will still send it. Though he may never respond, I don’t need for him to. He has already given so much and I will see to it that his gifts continue to bear fruit in the future. I will make sure that no one ever lacks that which he so eloquently has given us and that, even in his absence, we continue to question the world with the same harsh veracity he always has.

Though it must be of little consolation to one so ill, I offer him the only thing I can: my sincerest gratitude.

Thank you, Christopher Hitchens. I wish you the best.

Cj