On the surface of a planet around a star that cannot be seen with the naked eye a distance of more than 60 light years or so dwells a group of semi intelligent featherless bipeds less than the size of a dust mote on a galactic scale. They have small brains subject to the henweigh effect; their brains weigh about as much as a hen. They communicate mostly by disturbing the air around them with what they call words. They also have symbol systems for their words. Lost and alone in a vast cosmos they argue about science and religion as if their burblings meant anything. When I was a boy in Jr. High and HS long ago I read Mr. Moffatt's translation of the Bible, all of the Darwin I could find, and a lot of Mark Twain. Sir James Jeans, Arthur Eddington, etc. I then went to a major brand name science institute for my physics degree. Over the years it seems that most of the religious people I knew, Christian and Jewish with an occasional follower of Islam, Buddhism, or the Eternal Dharma; these people I say ended up well off and happy. The followers of "science" by contrast are mostly dead or wish they were. No kidding. So I remain religious because it seems to be the way of common sense and survival all things considered. And yes, I still like Mark Twain. Not that any of it matters on a cosmic scale. Not being divinely inspired, I allow that the followers of scientism might be right after all and we are only meaningless pots of bubbling chemicals. If so, I enjoy my delusions. Or even worse, H. P. Lovecraft; but let's not go there.