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Of the seven and a half billion human beings, which, at this point in time, constitute the Earth’s population, four-fifths profess a belief in one of the six world religions or in one of the sects which have emerged from them. They believe in a god whose name may not be named; they believe in a creator-god, in Jesus Christ and diverse saints; in Allah, in Shiva and Brahma – or whatever they are all called – in nature gods, in tin gods, and so forth. They are mostly also firmly convinced that they thereby believe in the legitimate creator of our universe and the one who determines their fate. They pray and beg for favour, health, objects or material wealth; hang rosaries over the rear view mirror in the car, and crosses around their necks, to achieve immunity from accidents and everything bad. They sacrifice food, plants, money, animals and, in earlier times (or even still today?) human beings – above all children and virgins – in order to make their god, their goddess or their tin gods kind and merciful, and to win them over. They give their long dark hair to the temple – which earns millions therewith – in exchange for a good harvest; they throw small children from a high tower into the depths – where, after a nose dive and much dread, they are caught with a blanket (India) – which is supposed to bring the family luck and health, and much more. All are acts of total dim-wittedness and brainlessness. No believer ever asks him or herself in which manner his or her god, his or her goddess or his or her tin god is actually supposed to meet the demands. How does the creator-god manage to simultaneously maintain the gigantic universe, and everything contained therein, while concerning himself with their small harvests, their pleading and begging and their individual wellbeing?