Is God Dead?

The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. "Whither is God?" he cried; "I will tell you. We have killed him--you and I. All of us are his murderers. But how did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there still any up or down? Are we not straying as htrough an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us? Do we not need to light lanterns in the morning? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the grave diggers who are burying God? Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too, decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.
"How shall we comfort ourselves, the murders of all murderers? What was th eholiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us--for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto."
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, an dit broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stars--and yet they have done it themselves."
It has been related further that on the same day the madman forced his way into several churches and there struck up his requiem aeternam deo. Led out and called to account, he is said always to have replied nothing but: "What after all are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God?" (Nietzsche, The Gay Science, pg 181-182)

Is God dead as the madman would cry? Have we murdered him with our neglegence and insolence? Perhaps there is some truth to his words. We as a society have become to caught up in the logic and rhetoric of existence. Once where magic and faith blossomed mankinds existence, science has grounded and broken it's wings. This was never more immanent then in the stories of Christ and the Pharisees. The Pharisees would question what faith had manifested to them based on the rules of the Mosiac law. Choosing not to see Christ as it's fulfilment but rather a radical who broke the rules. What else could the Roman's use to justify the crucifixition if not for his social presence. The "uprising" against the order that had been established. We all know how the story ends, whether or not you believe it, is not really the question. The result could speak loads as a metaphorical answer to the madman's decleration. Christ rose 3 days a later and left. No longer manifesting miracles for all to see was God's will, still, if one looked with faith, little evidences of his existence could be found scattered across the dark ages.
Perhaps now the metaphor has been completed. Rather than having killed God, we have shut our eyes and our hearts to what is plainly laid to see. Faith is such a simple act and science has killed it. As Kierkegaard declares: Faith begins where thought ends.