In 1992, a prisoner tried to stick a shiv in my gut. I caught the thrust with my hand. The cut, while superficial, went deep into my soul. The adrenalin addiction I had acquired as a guard, became Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I lost my faith in life. It was not till I discovered Baruch Spinoza’s God Of Science that I found the way to recovery. By the 17th century, a new description of God was emerging from the womb of human understanding. This was the God Of Science. The church did its best to make this a still birth. However, early fathers of Humanism sneaked a bastard version out of the midwife’s hands.