From a robustly rational perspective - why would a reasonable adult believe in a woman who lived several thousand years ago (if she even lived at all), much less seek comfort from a projected belief in her untainted heart and limitless patience?
The drift of the question is hard to refute; it is the wrong question to raise. It is not whether such a woman exists, but what it tells us about the desolation the human race is bound to face. The need to invent her reveals our emotional requirements, or rather, what becomes of those demands when we lose our way.
In the broadest sense, our emotional requirements speak of the extent to which, despite our adult powers of reasoning, our responsibilities and societal roles, the needs of childhood endures within us. While for long stretches in out adult lives we can believe in our maturity, we almost never succeed in insulating ourselves against the kind of catastrophic events that sweep away our ability to reason, our courage and will to put pain into perspective and throw us back into a state of primordial helplessness.
The ability to reason is a suppressed by a sense of doom, by a change so drastic it takes our breath away. Along comes the resentment, why do us humans have a desire to adore passionately? This need to believe in others, to love and serve them and find them in a perfection which eludes us in ourselves.
Simply put, this is the foundation for every argument between two adults in a committed relationship - "Why can't you be more perfect?"
In the heat of passionate adoration, we fail to remember that human beings are flawed creatures worthy of forgiveness and patience. We insist that these objects of adoration should be divine rather than human.
