A controversial book by engineer Michel-Yves Bolloré and businessman Olivier Bonnassies, titled God – Science – Tests: The Dawn of a Revolution, sparked heated discussion upon its release. In it, the authors argue that scientific inquiry can be compatible with belief in a higher power, presenting their case through data, anecdotes, and interviews. A notable journalist, Víctor M. Amela, described the project as declaring: “So much science, so much God,” a sentiment echoed by Amela’s collaborators Ima Sanchís and Lluís Amiguet during La Vanguardia’s long-running contra series. Across thousands of responses gathered in that program, readers weighed in on the existence and nature of God, producing a spectrum of seven thousand different viewpoints. The sheer volume of opinions underscored that belief remains a trend that many people feel compelled to examine even in a modern, secular world.
The authorial voice in the text moves between reflection and reportage. One narrator recalls spending hours inside churches, initially out of necessity and later seeking quiet and peace. Childhood visits to candlelit chapels, the rhythm of kneeling, lighting, and prayer, all left an imprint on the sense that part of a person endures beyond any single lifetime. The narrator’s father spoke of an undying passion for life, suggesting that love, family, and shared memory might persist after death. This longing for continuity—an idea that affection and connection endure—appears as a central thread. The passage also nods to maternal tenderness as a model for divinity: motherhood is described as protective, generous, and unfaltering in its devotion to those it cherishes. This is presented as a human version of the divine, a source of comfort that resonates with many who seek meaning in relationships rather than dogma.
As lentils simmer in the kitchen and a circle of friends voices a mix of humor and curiosity, the text glimpses a broader meditation on belief, science, and everyday life. A group of young people poses questions about fear, fortune, and faith, forcing each other to confront what truly matters. One joke about sleeping in a haunted house versus being locked with spiders gives way to a more introspective moment when a girl asks whether winning a fortune would change one’s relationship with God. The room quiets as the questions land, and a sense of possibility emerges: perhaps wealth could be seen as a distraction, while a direct, personal inquiry into faith could lead to clearer, more authentic choices. The narrator is struck by this moment of candid honesty and finds a new admiration for the girl who dares to put the moral question ahead of profit. In this kitchen light, the act of asking becomes a form of devotion, an invitation to consider what truly matters when fortune is at stake.
The piece then contemplates whether love and shared emotion can survive beyond the present moment. It suggests that the church should modernize and model openness, rather than retreating into ritual alone. The narrator imagines a world where the wisdom of elders, like a grandmother’s unconditional care, continues to guide younger generations. The ideal of sin as a punitive load is questioned, opening space for a more forgiving, compassionate understanding. Music, nature, and human connection are described as pathways to the soul, not separate experiences from faith. In this light, the authors’ claim that science can affirm spiritual existence is presented not as a hostile challenge to tradition but as a bridge that could relieve anxiety about mortality and meaning. The closing observation adds a light touch: lentils, once again, emerge as a simple pleasure that underscores the ordinary joys of life even as profound questions linger just beneath the surface of daily routine.