Almost all of us have read a tale compiled by the brothers Grimm.  Some are funny, some are romantic, some are simply horrid.  We often wonder what the point was.  The sad truth is that these tales, drawn from a wide range of tales from many parts of the world, in fact underscore humanity's propensity to delve into all of these things--humor, romance, terror--and, despite it all, to keep going.

    In general, despite any misgivings about them, we love the tales:  they are us.  Our fears, desires, and longings are embedded in a cast of characters no one person could have created.  We're all there.  All of us.

    Significantly, however, although we see in these tales hints of the ethereal, mysterious, and maybe the supernatural, we never see words about God.

    Maybe that's the point.  Absent God, we flail in vain.  We flail in vain to define what we mean, what we mean by good, what we mean by evil.  What we mean by existence.

    And life, its joy, its challenge, its good, its bad, goes on.  And on.  And on . . . .