God (n.) is neither just nor unjust, simply impotent.
God (n.) within the Jewish-Christian field is the ultimate harasser, the intruder brutally disturbing the harmony of our lives.
God (n.) the Father, by Malebranche's perverse logic, was never happier than while watching his son die on the Cross.
God (n.) in his nonexistence means that nothing at all is permitted any longer, against the naive notion that then everything is.
God (n.) was wrong — James Mason's line in Bigger Than Life, about stopping Abraham from slaughtering Isaac at the last moment.
God (n.) on this account is the Lacanian big Other, a machine that follows its own natural laws and, like Schreber's God, is completely ignorant of human affairs.
God (n.) is the father who doesn't know he is dead — Lacan's reproach to the God-Father: "Father, can't you see you are dead?"
God (n.) cannot help us; we must help Him — so wrote Etty Hillesum, who reported voluntarily to a camp in 1942.
God (n.) makes everything permitted, if He exists — to those who claim to act as instruments of His will, like the Stalinist acting for historical Necessity.
God (n.) is the big Other personified — a subject beyond all subjects, whose terrifying enigma is: what does he want from us?
God (n.) in Himself, in His noumenal dimension, may be the diabolical Evil: the God of an obscene superego Law coinciding with perverse jouissance — the Law itself as a terrible Thing.
God (n.) was marginal for the orthodox Jew, whose real cause was Talmud study; it took crude secular Zionism to take God seriously — the true believers in Israel are the non-religious.
God (n.) exists, is good and answers our requests — evil comes only from His poor hearing: ask for money, get honey; a Bosnian joke with a Kafkaesque twist.
God (n.) is, at its simplest, the idea that truth and meaning are one and the same thing; the death of Communism is the second death of God, in the territory of history.
God (n.) in Malebranche's account loves only himself and merely uses man to promulgate his own glory, as the saint uses others' suffering for the narcissistic satisfaction of helping them.
God (n.) as the radical Left needs him says to the Devil: I am not your Lord but a comrade; I don't even exist; and hurry, or I'll miss my Party meeting.
God (n.) in the Jewish tradition is the purest embodiment of 'Che vuoi?': forbidden to be imaged, his desire an abyss, and even his order to Abraham leaves open what he really wants, so the believer's stance is Job's horrified perplexity.
God (n.) is shared with only in pain: the infinite pain of separation from Him, Christ's on the Cross, is the one experience we truly share with God; to share His bliss is preposterous.