Christopher Hitchens, the commentator, journalist, and most recently author of a book on atheism (God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything) has a brother, Peter Hitchens, also a journalist and author, and member of the Church of England. In a recent article, Peter writes:
Am I my brother’s reviewer? A word of explanation is needed here. Some
of you may know that I have a brother, Christopher, who disagrees with
me about almost everything.
Some of those who read his books and articles also know that I
exist, though they often dislike me if so. But in general we inhabit
separate worlds – in more ways than one.
He is of the Left, lives in the United States and recently became
an American citizen. I am of the Right and, after some years in Russia
and America, live in the heart of England.
Occasionally we clash in public.
Peter Hitchens describes their upbringing and then says,
Christopher is an atheist. I am a believer.
He once said in public: "The real difference between Peter and myself is the belief in the supernatural. I’m a materialist and he attributes his presence here to a divine
plan. I can’t stand anyone who believes in God, who invokes the
divinity or who is a person of faith."
I don’t feel the same way. I like atheists and enjoy their company, because they agree with me that religion is important.
Of Christopher's book, Peter says:
I liked and enjoyed this book, and recommend it to anybody who is
interested in the subject. Like everything Christopher writes, it is
often elegant, frequently witty and never stupid or boring.
I also think it is wrong, mostly in the way that it blames faith for so
many bad things and gives it no credit for any of the good it may have
done.
I think it misunderstands religious people and their aims and desires.
And I think it asserts a number of things as true and obvious that are
nothing of the sort.
Concerning Christopher's atheism, Peter sees various problems. For example,
Where is his [Christopher's] certain knowledge of what is right and wrong supposed to have come from?
How can the idea of a conscience have any meaning in a world of random
chance, where in the end we
"When I pulled up to their modest log cabin, my heart started to race. I’ve been visiting my grandparents at their mountain home just outside Asheville, North Carolina, my whole life. But spending time in the home of Billy and Ruth Graham continues to be a powerful experience for me. My grandparents have been walking with God for more than seventy years, and they know him better than anyone else I know. Their simple, single-hearted devotion to their Lord saturates virtually everything they say and do. Every time I spend a few days with them, I leave with a renewed passion to know God the way they do.
I walked through the front door and immediately made my way back to their bedroom, where I knew they were waiting for me. My grandfather sat in a chair next to Tai Tai (it’s what I call my grandmother), who was sitting up in bed. Neither of them gets around well anymore, so they spend most of their days together in their bedroom reading, talking, and praying. When I walked into the bedroom,