The topic of God in public debates is once again on the agenda. Until recently it seemed that religions had receded into the background like old texts, images and things too obscure and worn-out to satisfy the spiritual needs of modern man. The phenomenon of God had shrivelled up into empty exclamations like: "God forbid!", "For God's sake!", or into the image of a sombre old man in a white nightshirt, with an unkempt beard, flitting here and there among the comics of church frescoes, stained-glass windows and iconostases. But the fears ignited by technological disasters, coupled with the growing mistrust of science, have brought back the need for miracles. Who else but a god, a new living god will bring us peace of mind in a world that no longer feels like a comfy home; who will help us come to terms with our body that is becoming more and more demanding; who will restrain our psyche that persists in troubling us? Art is our new religion. The artist – our new god. Crowds of people go to exhibitions. Do they really go merely to quench their curiosity and to savour aesthetic delights? No, they go to commune with sacral power, to regain physical health and the spirituality which the images emanate. But traditionally God is sought in the distant past, among the creators standing at the cradle of Art. As usual, people do not notice a living god. Alex Melamid – a recognised genius of Contemporary Art – presents us with a revelation. You ask, but why – Melamid? Can a mocker, a jester, a nihilist be a god? Don't be such a doubting Thomas! Don't worry, since this Melamid has declared himself a deity, he will pay for it in full – with unbearable suffering, unrighteous judgement, and a cruel death. He'll get what's coming to him! But, until he drives our merchants out of the temple, humiliates our Pharisees, falls into the clutches of our law enforcement agencies, let's refrain from doubting and cursing him, and harken to His words.