He has been called every name in the book by his dissenters, including “drink-sodden ex-Trotskyist popinjay” — over the top, perhaps.
He is both revered and feared by all who take to the stage to do battle with his scarily fast wit and seemingly endless list of crippling retortions.
He is Christopher Hitchens — the closest thing our world currently has to a prophet.
Hitchens is a widely syndicated columnist and is perhaps most known for his public debates with leading theologians and — among other superpowers — the Catholic Church.
And though many have boldly taken on Hitchens, they have each been given a firm Hitch-slap and defeated just as quickly.
In his book “God Is Not Great,” he makes the case for “anti-theism,” which takes atheism a step further. Rather than simply rejecting the notion of a God or gods, Hitchens defines “anti-theism” as opposition to the belief in supernatural powers — a position that makes Bill Maher’s film “Religulous” look tame.
Hitchens is many things, and yes, even a modern prophet — but let me explain.
Prophets, in the biblical sense, were characterized primarily by their contrarian and polemic social stances, as well as the ability to see things others could not in a situation.
He may be a secular prophet, but Hitchens is a prophet nonetheless.
Much like the prophets of old, Hitchens does something few popular writers can: He shapes culture.
With his polemic words and poetic discourses he exposes and illuminates that which we all fear: Our finitude and shortcomings as a postcolonial society.
Whether it’s a stern judgment toward corrupt religious leaders, a brave jab at Islamic fundamentalism or an all-out tirade against the latest and greatest political fad, the man does it all.
Sadly, our secular seer is not doing so well these days.
Reports began surfacing in June saying Hitchens had undergone treatment for metastatic esophageal cancer — perhaps the first formidable foe he has faced.
The prognosis doesn’t look good, and even Hitchens, now a mere shadow of his former handsomely striking self, recognizes he’ll be a “very lucky person” if he lives five more years.
He has always imbibed of the potent potables — namely Johnnie Walker whiskey, a friend we both know too well perhaps — and smoked like Santa’s chimney. As Guy Raz put it in an NPR article, “Hitchens is known for his love of cigarettes and alcohol — and his prodigious literary output.”
We all have our vices, and it matters not whether Hitchens’ “sins” were the cause of his current condition.
We’re going to be a lesser species when he departs.
Before Hitchens’ body fails his monolithic mind, he will take to the podium and attempt to dish out one final Hitch-slap to former British Prime Minister Tony Blair in Toronto on Nov. 26, a mere nine days away.
The debate’s topic will be “is religion a force for peace or
conflict in the modern world?” It will be viewable on munkdebates.com for a small fee.
If this debate goes anything like the previous “God debates” Hitchens has participated in, it should be an entertaining spectacle.
He has gone toe to toe with prominent author and Christian apologist Dinesh D’Souza, theological giant William Lane Craig and Rabbi extraordinaire Shmuley Boteach — each of which ended in a similar defeat for his opponents.
And these are just the properly educated opponents Hitchens has decimated.
For a look at sheer domination, check out the complete undoing of the pseudo-theologian Al Sharpton or the BBC-broadcasted debate on whether the Catholic Church is a force for good in the world.
It seems there’s a certain “Hitchens’ Law” in place when he takes to the stage. The man can’t lose — and hasn’t yet.
Death may indeed be the only able-bodied opponent for our present-day prophet.
Observe him while he’s still around. The world will be a darker place when he’s gone.
Andrew Robertson is a 23-year-old English writing and culture senior from Baton Rouge. Follow him on Twitter @TDR_Arobertson.
 
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Contact Andrew Robertson at [email protected]