The Problem With God   Imagine this. You are a twelve-year-old
in a godforsaken steel town that once helped suture the Great
Lakes to the Atlantic coast of North America and Europe. A city
that, for you, is a desert—a wasteland without other minds that
welcome you. Buffalo, New York.  Your bar mitzvah is coming up.
(Congratulations—you are Jewish for a day.) And you are avoiding
a huge confession. One that will utterly change your life. A
confession about one of the biggest superstars of human history.
God.  You are not a popular kid. In fact, other kids either
ignore you or try with all their might to keep you from getting
anywhere near their backyard play sessions, their baseball
diamonds, their clubs, and their parties. When they do pay
attention to you, it’s to take aim. They kick soccer balls in
your face. They grab your hat and play toss with it over your
head while you run back and forth trying to yank it out of the
heights above your reach. Or they pry your textbooks from your
arms and throw them on a