Tonight I said to one of my cats: “You want so badly to know what’s going on. But you never will, because you’re a cat.”
This is the best argument for faith that I can muster. If the visible world is a scrim separating us a greater metaphysical theatre, then its residents probably regard us as we regard cats: lively, amusing, beautiful, occasionally irritating - but inherently crippled by walnut-sized brains designed for chasing mice and covering poop.
This isn’t really an argument for faith. I’m just hoping that the gods keep pets.