HEY GOD,GOT A MINUTE?

Good Questions To Ask The Next Time The Big Guy

Calls You In For A Chat

 

by Noel Carroll

 

 

 

 

To doubt everything or to believe everything are two equally convenient solutions; both dispense with the necessity of reflection.--Poincare

 

 

 

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

 

 

All of this is true; I swear to the big guy it is. Well, maybe not exactly true. I mean, a lot of it is from memory and thus could stray just a tad from what was actually said--by God as well as by me. And maybe some of the feelings more represent my take than God's, like I almost lost it when I saw the outline of a frown pushing through the glow surrounding his face (even now it scares me to think how close I might have come to encouraging the old heat treatment).

 

Anyway, what kicked it off was I fell asleep one night a little down about life in general and weary of all the conflicting thoughts that kept bouncing around in my head, thoughts about religion, why we're here and what all this stuff means, I mean, really means. You know, one of those times when you're flooded with doubts you gotta admit are there but don't feel right about bringing up (you don't even want to form the questions in your mind for fear you might actually ask them and in doing so tempt some kind of lightning bolt your way).

 

But the doubts are there just the same, and if you try to pretend they're not, it just makes you itchy inside, like somebody's calling for boarding on the last train to heaven and you don't even know what kind of ticket to buy.

 

Now don't get me wrong; it isn't like I doubt the whole shebang. Heck, I'm not that far gone. I just doubt everything I've ever been told by everyone I've ever known. I mean, there are a lot of people out there screaming their heads off about what's what in this world and the next, and most of them have no doubt whatsoever about what they're saying, even when what they're saying goes against what other guys (who also have no doubt whatsoever) are saying.

 

Until this thing with the big guy happened--which I'm gonna tell you about in a minute--I had just about given up. I had no one to turn to, no one to ask, no one who wouldn't hit me with the same old platitudes and half-answers. "Just have faith, Harold," they'd say, which to them meant have faith in what they were saying, not in what anybody else was saying.

 

Anyway, I just turned sixty, my back hurts from all the exercises I did to strengthen my legs, and my hair, which had already turned a horrible shade of dirty gray, is now falling out. Plus my feet hurt, my eyes see a little less each year, and I'm getting shorter. This all combines to tell me that I need to make sense out of what I am and where I'm going and that I'd better do it soon before whoever's keeping score decides the game is over. "Time's up, Harold. And oh so sorry, you should have followed religion 5,642. Step closer to the furnace, please."

 

Anyway, the problem I'm trying to tell you about started for me at an early age. I was even more confused about religion then than I am now, and when I tried talking to my friends about it (I remember asking, "If God can do no wrong but can do anything he wants to do then why can't he do wrong? I mean, if he really, really wanted to?") all I got was laughter and ridicule. They didn't much like the questions (and couldn't answer them anyway) so they responded in the only way they knew: they attacked the one doing the questioning. Enough episodes of this and I knew to bury my curiosity in favor of going along with the crowd. I liked the guys who were telling me the religious facts of life, so backing off was no big deal.

 

But one day I moved then came in touch with a new set of friends who believed something different but who sounded just as sure about what they were saying as the guys I left behind. When that happened a third time, I got to wondering what gives. I mean, they were all good guys, but what they said just couldn't be, not when you viewed it all together. Some said black, some said white, some said something in-between--I was young, but not so young that I couldn't see something wrong with that. When for the second time in my life I got on their case about it, this time to question how so many different religious opinions could be right at the same time, I got to see my first funny look: a look that said, How could I not understand? How could I question the unquestionable? (I figured out that the "unquestionable" meant what they believed, not what my earlier friends believed.)

 

That's when everybody began picking on me. A few guys got angry, but most of them just stared at me as if I had brain cells leaking out of my ears. It was funny to watch the progression; their eyes would widen and their smiles would become fixed and unsure as if they'd just cut one loose and were afraid the teacher had heard. Then, and it's interesting how many of them did this, they'd take a step backward to avoid an accidental hit from a lightning bolt aimed at me.

 

But my playmates are not the guys I complained to God about. I still like those guys, all of them. Besides, we were kids; we didn't know any better; we'd all been brainwashed by our parents. The gut aches I feel now come from grown-ups, the guys who are doing the brainwashing. The guys who stab their fingers at the sky, reveal enough of their eyes to make little kids fear the dark, wave whatever book they think proves their point, and cry out their message to the world, a message that demonstrates love of their own ideas, scorn for anyone who can't see the wisdom of those ideas, and reasons why you should give them money.

 

What really bothers me is there are so many of them and so few of me.

 

Anyway, getting back to the night I'm trying to tell you about, I woke up in my dream (that's exactly what it was; I was dreaming then there I was, as awake as I'd ever been in my life) and found myself standing alone at the edge of a rolling puff of cloud watching rambling rivers and winding roads run a neat pattern through multicolored patches of farmland far below. The only company I had was a gentle breeze, which, because there were no trees or stuff like that to catch the wind and make a noise, I felt more than I heard. As I stood there watching, I began to feel a need to make the most of this before the magic of the moment changed, before the pushing and shoving of a celestial rush-hour began.

 

But before I had time to decide how to do that, along walks the big guy himself, God. Because of the light radiating from him, I couldn't see much, but I knew right away it was him. (Or her; I never did get the answer to that one.) Well, I gotta tell you, this surprised me some. It isn't often that this kind of thing happens, not to me it doesn't (to the guys running around in robes collecting money, it supposedly happens all the time).

 

But anyway, I seized on this great idea, the idea that this meeting was preordained; I mean, it must have been, right? The big guy must have guided us together just so I could hit him with my questions. I felt pretty important at that moment, even holy. And I figured who am I to risk angering God by passing up an ordainment, or whatever you're supposed to call it. So I grabbed the moment and got the ball rolling. As you'll soon see, once it started rolling it wasn't so easy to stop.

 

"Hey, God, got a minute?"

 

 

 

 

ONE:

This "in God's image" thing: did you

evolve from apes like we did?

 

 

"What is it, Harold?"

 

"Hey, this is great; you talking to me, I mean."

 

"Yes, Harold, I understand. But I am a bit busy..."

 

"Oh yeah, God; didn't mean to hold you up and all. I just got a few things on my mind. You know, things I can't make gel."

 

"Gel?"

 

"An expression where I come from, God. But you see, that's part of what's bothering me. I thought you would know that."

 

"You think the way you speak should rank high in matters that occupy my mind, Harold?"

 

"Well, that's what we're told all the time. That you know everything, I mean, even the things that aren't worth knowing."

 

"I know you, Harold."

 

"Ha! Good one, God. I'll remember that--I mean, if you let me remember it."

 

"You have questions, Harold?"

 

"Yeah, a few thing I been thinking about."

 

"What kind of things?"

 

"Well, like ... now, you're not gonna take offense, are you, God?"

 

"That depends."

 

"Yeah, well I don't mean this the wrong way, you understand. I'm just ... well, sorta confused. I don't want to get my buns scorched for stepping outta line."

 

"Get with it, Harold."

 

"Yeah, no sweat; I've been standing here writing it all down. Hold on a second, God."

 

"Harold."

 

"Yeah, God?"

 

"You said 'a minute.' How many sheets of papers do you have there?"

 

"Now see, there you go again. You're supposed to know things like that."

 

(sigh) "Pick one, Harold, and let's get on with it."

 

"Yeah, okay. It's just that I have trouble believing all I'm told and I need a little help sorting it out--oh yeah, move on; right, God. Eh, how about this one: Now as I understand it, you made us in your own image, right?"

 

"What is your point?"

 

"Well, what image are we talking about? Homosexuals have..."

 

"That's 'Homo Sapiens,' Harold."

 

"Homo Sapiens; got it, God. Well Homo-what-you-said have changed a hell ... eh, a heck of a lot, even in the last million years--we don't look anything like we did back then. And go all the way back to the time of the dinosaurs and you see us looking like mice. Eh, you're not telling us you're a mouse are you, God."

 

"I beg your pardon."

 

"Hey, no way I see you that way; I just said that to prove a point. But you know, with all that glow, I can't tell what you do look like--you couldn't turn down the power a little could you, God?"

 

"Maybe you haven't really tried to see me, Harold."

 

"That's exactly what I'm getting at, God. I mean, that's the point of this whole talk. I wanna try harder; I wanna know how to see you, how you want to be seen."

 

"Is it so important that I have a specific image?"

 

"Well, no, but that's what we're taught all the time, that we look like you, I mean. All I want to know is whether it's true. Or whether you're evolving like we are and, if so, what you have in mind as the end game--eh, you got pictures, maybe?"

 

"Maybe I want to leave that up to you, to permit you to see me as you wish."

 

"'Maybe' don't exactly pay the rent, God."

 

"You want to run that by me again, Harold?!"

 

"Hey, no offense; I really want to understand. There are a bunch of guys out there saying all kinds of contradictory things. And these guys, they don't say 'maybe;' they say 'this is how it is and there isn't any question about it.'"

 

"But you do question them."

 

"Yeah, but I question them, God, not you. I mean, they come up with way-out stuff, stuff they've got to have made up. Like this 'in your image' thing. I mean, mankind has gone all the way from one-celled creatures to what we are now--there's a lot of in-between there, God. Heck, we've changed a lot even since your guy Jesus came on board. We're taller now by a lot of inches. Eh, how tall are you, God?"

 

"Here's another 'maybe' for you, Harold: Maybe I 'evolve' your image because I don't like you looking so much like me--you people are not something one can easily take pride in, you know!"

 

"Present company excepted, right, God? Eh, just a little human joke there. But why do you let these people tell us something like that if it isn't true? I mean, they say they got it straight from the horse's mouth--no offense. They say they're just passing on what you want us to know?"

 

"Your minute's up, Harold."

 

"Oh, yeah. Well can I come back and see you later, God? I got a lot more of these questions."

 

"I can hardly wait."

 

"Hey, great! I was afraid you'd be offended."

 

"Goodnight, Harold!"

 

"Eh, right; see you later, God--Oh, one quickie, if I can?"

 

"'Quickie,' Harold?"

 

"Yeah, that means like..."

 

"Do me a favor, Harold."

 

"Yeah, God?"

 

"Don't explain."

 

"Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I really don't have to. I mean, you would know that like you know everything, right?"

 

"Your 'quickie,' Harold?"

 

"Yeah, Eh, is 'God' your first name or your family name?"

 

(sigh)

 

 

 

 

 

TWO:

If you're guiding us and we do bad,

whose fault is it?

 

 

I woke up at that point, but let me tell you, I thought about that little get-together all through the day. I felt really good about it; that holy feeling came over me again; I even walked a little lighter. Not exactly on tiptoe but lighter, like I was already on my way to the big K-Mart in the sky. (That thought triggered another question which I quickly wrote down on my list of stuff to ask God. It's always good to know where things are in advance of a major relocation. I mean, if I got to heaven really close to Christmas and had to waste time figuring out where K-Mart was, I wouldn't have time to shop.)

 

I figured questions like that wouldn't hit him the wrong way--he seemed a little testy about that image thing. They're easy to answer and a step below heaven-shaking. Another good one is whether he still rests once every seven days, and if so, whether he'd like us to worship him when he's back on the job. I mean, there's nothing worse than being interrupted a billion times on your day off.

 

I couldn't wait until bedtime. My friends must've thought I was wacko, the way I treated them that day, like I had a big secret they wouldn't guess in a million years--not unrealistic timing considering where I was and who I was talking to. When they pushed me for an explanation, I took on my best holy look, one that spoke of the notch I had risen above them, then started humming. Not a hymn or anything like that; just an old Beetles' tune. At one time, I thought of hitting them up for money, you know, like those guys in the tents do when they talk to God. I didn't, of course. I loath those guys and don't want to do to people what they do to people, especially people I like. Not only taking their money, but taking advantage of their human weaknesses: preying on their superstitions, their fear of the unknown, their fear of dying. If I did that, I wouldn't be able to sleep nights. And then I wouldn't get to chat with God.

 

By the time I climbed into bed I was too excited to sleep. I tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up and going out to the kitchenette for a drink, hoping it would calm me down--I live in a two-bedroom apartment when I'm not on a cloud with God. Funny thing, though: all the while I was drinking this late-night cocktail, I couldn't help thinking of it as holy water. I mean, look at what it was leading me to.

 

Holy water or not, it didn't help; I still tossed and turned. It got to me, the amount of night I was wasting, I mean--suppose God got tired of waiting. I fought harder, at one time pressing my eyelids down with such force that it gave me a headache.

 

Then it was the headache that kept me awake.

 

It must've been three in the morning before I finally calmed down enough to let go, but before that I went though a period of thinking that God was keeping me awake on purpose, this so he'd have more time to think up answers to my questions. I understood that; it's what I would do.

 

Anyway, I finally got there, there being the same cloud as before, overlooking the same scene. Except now it was raining down on everybody.

 

"Hi, God, It's me, Harold."

 

"How could you possible think I don't know that, Harold?"

 

"Yeah, gotcha, God. And that leads to another question of mine, this one about people being a pain in the ... eh, neck ... at times, some more than others."

 

"Funny, I was thinking along the same lines."

 

"Ha! Good one, God. You'd be great at parties."

 

(sigh) "Your question, Harold?"

 

"Eh, yeah. Eh, this one has to do with why we're the way we are. I mean, not so good at times. I mean, if you're in the driver's seat, God, why don't you change us into something more to your liking? For that matter, more to the liking of each other?"

 

"Don't you think I try?"

 

"Now that I don't understand. What's 'try' got to do with anything if you can wave a magic wand and make it happen?"

 

"There is no magic to any of this, Harold. Not with respect to what you are, and more importantly, not with respect to what you are not."

 

"Well, how do you do it then?"

 

"The details would be beyond you."

 

"Yeah, but you did do it; make us, I mean. Right? And some of us are made better than others. Some can't be other than a pain no matter how hard they try."

 

"Have you taken into consideration that I might be testing them? And you, Harold?"

 

"Well pardon my asking, God, but why would you do that unless you goofed in the production phase? I mean, if you made us, and if you can do no wrong, then by definition, we don't have any bugs in us that you didn't put there in the first place. So what's with the test? And why punish us if we fail? That's like making a car with three tires then getting mad when it drives on an angle."

 

"I work in mysterious ways, Harold."

 

"Yeah, I can believe that, God, but still, I gotta ask."

 

"(sigh) You don't think mankind should have rules to go by?"

 

"I got no problem with rules, but if you made us weak, then I figure you expect us to be weak. If we act like we don't like the weaknesses you gave us, it makes us look kinda unfriendly, know what I mean? Like we disapprove of your handiwork."

 

"You're not always easy to understand, Harold."

 

"Just one of my weaknesses, God. How am I doing with it?"

 

"Not funny, Harold!"

 

"Yeah, sorry, God. But you don't know what they're saying about you--well, maybe you do, but I gotta believe you don't like it."

 

"Saying about me?"

 

"Yeah. Like we should be afraid of you, afraid you're gonna burn our butts if we act like what we are. They say out of one side of their mouth that you guide us through each day, that anything we do is really you pulling the strings, then when we do something they don't like, they change over to us being in control and you about to zap us in the butt for doing it. What happened to the guide-us-through-each-day bit?"

 

"I help you with the good. Do you think it reasonable that I should also help you with the bad?"

 

"Well as I see it, if you're in there guiding us, how can we think of anything bad? And how can we get started doing something bad if you're in there guiding us?"

 

"Did you ever think of entering the law, Harold?"

 

"Well, if you're guiding me, God, maybe I should ask you that question."

 

"I can't see it making matters worse."

 

"Hey, I'll go with whatever you decide. But getting back to the us-being-guided thing, what sense does my whole life make if all I am is a puppet on a string--yeah, I know, except when I'm being bad, which I don't know how I can be with you pulling the strings?"

 

"Are you saying being alive doesn't make sense?"

 

"Hey, it beats the alternative--at least I think it does; I don't have much experience with that particular alternative. I mean, I don't remember what I was before I was born. But that's not what I'm asking, God. From where I sit, I'm in a movie house watching your grand plan for me unfold. And all the while I'm thinking that if you wind up not liking how that plan turns out, I stand a good chance of getting torched--this is what they'd have us believe, God."

 

"Exactly who is this 'they,' Harold?"

 

"The guys I've been wanting to tell you about, the guys with loud voices, funny eyes and fingers that keep pointing up, regardless of what side of the world they happen to be on when they get fired up."

 

"The ones who speak of me, you mean?"

 

"Hey, I'm not talking about all of them, God. Just a heck of a lot of them. Well, maybe most of them. It's just that they don't think through what they say or do. I mean, they don't even feel an obligation to. They make up stuff then toss it into the crowd as if, having said it, it's gotta be true."

 

"If you are referring to a time when they gather in worship, it is likely that the one doing the speaking feels he or she is being guided by me."

 

"Well, that's what I mean about thinking it through, God. He thinks he's being 'guided' into saying 'black' at about the same time a guy in a place down the street thinks he's being 'guided' into saying 'white.' I mean, I got enough smarts to see a problem with that, why don't they?"

 

"They don't have your genius, Harold."

 

"Yeah, I see your point, God. I mean, you only had so many brains to pass out, right?"

 

(sigh) "Go on, Harold. You were telling me about 'making up stuff,' I believe."

 

"Eh, yeah. Anyway, their audience just sits there nodding and smiling, as if there couldn't be any doubt about the truth of what they just heard. I tell you, God, this gets me to thinking that there's nobody out there who has any idea what the real skinny is. They come on like they do, but it's obvious by what they say, and by what other guys say about what they say, that they don't."

 

"You have needs as they have needs, Harold. When you feel strongly inside--as you do now--rather than keep those feelings to yourself, you endeavor to pass them on, to encourage others to believe what is very real and very valid to you--this does not in any way refer to the validity of those feelings, only to the imperative nature of them. There are certain people who feel a 'need' to instruct, Harold. Does it hurt so much to have others practice this need on you?"

 

"Hey, I still got things I don't know, God. But the kind of guys I'm talking about don't instruct as much as they bully. They tell you what to believe, how to believe it, and what's going to come down on you if you don't. I once had a guy hand me a list and say, 'This is what we believe. You want to join us, you gotta believe it too.' Now how does a guy tell his mind what to believe? I mean, a mind looks over all the facts and arguments then tells you what it believes, right?"

 

"They are encouraging you to open your mind to their words, Harold."

 

"Yeah okay, but it doesn't sound to me like they got much room in those words for debate, and that means that they intend the opening-of-the-mind thing to be one-sided. You should hear these guys, God."

 

"I should, Harold?"

 

"Oh, yeah, I guess you do hear them. You hear everything, right? But doesn't it pis ... eh, get you angry some of the stuff they come up with?"

 

"Are you saying they are being dishonest?"

 

"Well, no, I guess not; not 'dishonest,' I mean. More that they're being ... irresponsible. They gotta know people are afraid to question them, afraid the sky's going to fall in on them if they do. When somebody does question them, the first word out of their mouth is 'blasphemy.' Then they tell that somebody he's got a problem 'opening his mind.'"

 

"Unlike you."

 

"Hey, like I say, God, I still got things I don't know. But I don't see these guys having a open mind when the kind of answers I get from them are 'all I know is' and 'that's good enough for me!' If a guy admits 'all I know is,' I don't think he should come on like he knows everything. And saying 'that's good enough for me' tells me he's not interested in hearing anything but the echo of his own voice."

 

"But you do want to be heard."

 

"Well, I always got an urge to, but I don't give in to it all that often. I mean, if I argue, it just gets a lot of people looking at me funny like. Easier to just let it go."

 

"I understand."

 

"And it isn't just guys in tents; it's anybody with a loud voice and the idea that you've called on him to "spread the good word," even if that "good word" contradicts the next guy's "good word." I gotta ask you, God, doesn't that ever ... eh, get you mad? I mean, it's like these guys think you have a split personality, that you hand out contradictory callings?"

 

"You think I'm confused, Harold?"

 

"Hey, no way. I'm talking about them, God, not you. But when these things happen, I get to feeling like I'm the only one out there who's not either hypnotized or blinded by fear, the only one able to see the 'light' that my neighbor thinks I don't see when I disagree with his version of what that 'light' is--maybe that didn't make as much sense as it did in my head before I let it out, but you know what I mean."

 

"I appreciate the clarification, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I figured you might need it, what with me working in mysterious ways at times."

 

(sigh)

 

"Anyway, these guys can also be found in basilicas, bethels, churches, mosques, synagogues, tabernacles, temples, you name it--I mean if you want to. It doesn't matter what you call it; what matters is what they say and how they say it; what they claim and how willing they are to think through those claims."

 

"I see, Harold. But why complain to me? How much you believe of what 'they' say is up to you."

 

"That's just it, God, I want to believe in you, but I have trouble figuring out how all the noise down there figures into this. Like there's this guy from the orient who tells me you want him to have a fleet of Rolls Royces--he's way up there on my 'they' list, God."

 

"There will always be the gullible, Harold."

 

"Yeah, and the guys who take advantage of them--pardon me for saying it, God, but they could use a little straightening out. There are more of these guys popping up every day."

 

"You hint at indifference, Harold. I see other than that. Look for signs."

 

"Yeah, I know, thunder and lightning and birds carrying snakes, stuff like that. But it seems to me a better sign would be one written in a common language on a giant billboard."

 

"Are you questioning my methods?"

 

"Hey, no way, God! It's more like pleading. I mean, I see things down there as pretty screwed up. We could use a little help."

 

"And if I clarify everything for you today, what about tomorrow?"

 

"I don't follow you, God."

 

"The minds of humans are fickle, Harold. What you believe today, you are inclined to modify even ten minutes from now. If I enlighten ten of you, within twenty-four hours these ten will have begun to modify their thinking. Even as they stood together during the lecture, they will express varying interpretations of what they heard me say. Given enough time, they could well form ten entirely new religions."

 

"All the more reason why I can't put stock in what they tell me, God. Besides, can't you keep reminding them? A daily newsletter, something like that? Heck, I'll even help you print it."

 

"Too tedious, Harold."

 

"Tedious?"

 

"Yes, like this conversation."

 

"Oh yeah. I get your drift, God. It's just I feel this great need to know."

 

"Why do you 'need' to know, Harold?"

 

"Well, I guess you would know that better than me, God. After all, you made me."

 

(sigh)

 

"I guess I'm tired of holding it inside me, God. Tired of being told that to pose too tough a question is blasphemy. Tired of people bullying me with their smug looks and knowing smiles when in truth they don't know any more than I do. Tired of the comfort these people take in the large numbers of people around them who believe as they do, like these numbers make them more right than me."

 

(sigh) "Okay, Harold, go on."

 

"You know that 'seek and ye shall find' stuff, God. Well think of this as me 'seeking.'"

 

"I said go on, Harold."

 

"Oh yeah. But, eh, I got a little request first."

 

"A little request?"

 

"Yeah, about the guys who cry 'blasphemy' every time I question their way of thinking. I thought maybe you might zap their tails a little. You know, throw the fear of you into them, keep them from coming down so hard on the rest of us."

 

"Condemnation reflects one's own inadequacies more than it advertises another's, Harold. You should pity them for that. But in strict answer to your question, I offer what I said earlier: Ten minutes after being ... zapped ... they would be right back at it. Better is for you to assume more responsibility for protecting yourselves. I've given you the means; it is up to you to employ them."

 

"Some of us have more 'means' than others, God."

 

"It happens, Harold."

 

Now at that point, I began to wonder which kind I was. Did I have more "means" or less "means"? I don't like the loudmouths, but I don't feel strong enough to take them on directly. I mean, all kinds of people would come down on me if I even hinted that I thought these guys, as popular as some of them are, smelled like they walked through a chicken coop in their bare feet. So I guess I have enough means to protect myself, but not enough to win out against the harm these guys do.

 

"Yeah, I hear you, God. And I know I gotta go along with whatever you say ..."

 

"What exactly do you mean by that, Harold?"

 

"Well, you know; the butt-burning thing."

 

"Is that the only way you can believe, Harold? By fearing punishment?"

 

I though about that some. I have fears like the next guy, but I don't know that it makes me more religious. Or less. And I don't know how much of it comes from being too close to the funny-eyes guys when they let loose--in speech, I mean. For years they've been telling us we gotta fear God, that he has some kind of holocaust going and that we're going to be tortured in a horrible way if we don't fall into line. Even if that was true, which I don't think it is, why is it so holy to give in to fear? If on Earth we keep from doing something just because we're afraid, we're branded as cowards--I don't think anybody is going to say I'm 'good' or 'holy' just because he sees me trembling in fear. No, when fear strikes, we try to get hold of ourselves, even when, as in wartime, it might cost us our lives.

 

The same thing could be applied to the morality thing. What kind of sense does it make to say a guy is moral when the only reason he keeps from doing something bad is because he's afraid of being punished? I'd say he's more chicken than moral. Moral is a guy who keeps from doing something bad simply because he thinks it's wrong.

 

Are we supposed to go through all eternity afraid to speak our minds? Me, I don't think so. I mean, no two people think alike, and assuming we aren't given a brand new personality after death, there are going to be a whole bunch of contrary opinions flying around heaven, all of them at the same time. (If we are given a new personality, then what was the sense of having the old one?) It doesn't change anything if you keep those contrary opinions to yourself. If God looks into your heart, he's going to see them and know.

 

I think the funny-eyes guys don't give God enough credit. They infer that he feels threatened by diversity of opinion, even way-out opinion. Me, I figure he isn't worried, that if it comes to a verbal boxing match, he knows he'll come out ahead.

 

I sure wish I could've gotten an answer to the "guided-through-life" thing. When am I a puppet and when am I not a puppet? Am I worrying about stuff I can't do anything about believing I have decisions to make when in truth they've already been made for me, that everything is preordained?

 

I don't think anything's preordained. I mean, if "preordained" means God knows everything in advance, seems to me he would do something to prevent the bad from happening. Like a cop who knows a crime is going down; if he does nothing to block it, we'd get all over his case.

 

But I had already come close to being "tedious" on that subject, so I decided to move on to something else, something sure to be close to God's heart.

 

"Where exactly is heaven, God?"

 

"Where do you imagine it to be, Harold?"

 

"Well, in the past, people used to think of heaven as up in the air. I mean, there are a lot of paintings, some of them showing angels with wings and others showing you pushing clouds out of the way so you can point a finger down at us. But now we know that the higher you go, the less air you get, and that you can go on forever in any one direction without this changing. That tells me that heaven's got to be sandwiched between Earth and the start of space. I mean, otherwise, why give angels wings?"--Hey, why are you laughing, God?"

 

"You take things too literally, Harold."

 

"But that's what I mean, God. We got people out there preaching that we have to take what is said in the Bible literally."

 

"I am afraid, Harold, that this is something else you must work out by yourself. I say again, what you believe is up to you."

 

"But I don't see 'believing' having anything to do with truth. Aren't we supposed to go for truth?"

 

"Truth is something humans only give lip service too. More important to them is what they wish to believe."

 

"But you'll scorch our butts if we 'believe' the wrong thing."

 

"Will I?"

 

"That's what they say."

 

"Then to you, that is what will happen. However, I caution you to open the entirety of your mind when regarding the arguments of others. What 'they' say may have little to do with what I expect of you."

 

"They claim they're only repeating what you say to them."

 

"They talk to themselves and attribute it to me."

 

"Don't you talk to people, God? I mean, you're talking to me now."

 

"Am I?"

 

It was at this point that I woke up. And did that ever leave me with an empty feeling! I knew I had been awake all that time--in my dream, I mean--but the doubts began to pour in big-time. The day that followed was nothing like the one that preceded it, the one where I felt some kind of holy. Now I felt like an empty-headed worm. And I couldn't put my finger on why.

 

 

 

 

 

THREE:

When you said, "Let there be light,"

who were you talking to?

 

 

The next night I decided to be even more careful about what I said--no telling what God might do if I really pissed him off. I figured he was getting tired of hearing about all the bad from Earth and could use a little cheering up, so I went through my list of questions and picked out a few that weren't so heavy.

 

 

"Hi, God, I'm back."

 

"Joy to me!"

 

"Yeah, that's cool, God. Good to see you in a better mood. You know, last night might've been a bad day for both of us. Maybe I said things that didn't come out the way I thought about them when they were still floating around in my mind. You follow me?"

 

"Incredibly, I think I do."

 

"Well, I didn't mean to be hard-nosed or anything, I just...."

 

"Harold, are you apologizing?"

 

"Eh, yeah, I guess I am, God."

 

"Well, don't. I see genuine confusion in your mind, and however obnoxious you are in expressing it, there is nothing wrong with your reaching for answers. Indeed, you have a me-given need to do so."

 

"Yeah, well thanks a heap, God. That's mighty nice of you. And you know, I do have a little more of that 'confusion' to work out."

 

"I am overwhelmed with surprise."

 

"Ha! A God joke, eh, God?"

 

"Proceed with the questions, Harold."

 

"Right on, God. Eh, here's an easy one. Why does everyone look up when they're talking to you--I mean, you see it all the time? If a guy is on the wrong side of the Earth when he's doing this, isn't he looking away?"

 

"I'm everywhere, Harold."

 

"Well then, why look up?"

 

"Next question, Harold."

 

"Oh. Yeah, sure, God. But do you ever think about things like that?"

 

"Next question, Harold.

 

"Eh, well I read where you said 'there shall be no other gods before me.' What I wonder is, why would you say that if there are no other gods?"

 

"Figure of speech, Harold, an expression. Don't think about it too much."

 

"Yeah, but if there's only one god and you're it, no need to be jealous, you know?"

 

"Good point, Harold. Next question, please."

 

"Oh, yeah, sure. Eh, I guess I'm doing that obnoxious thing again, huh, God?"

 

"You got it, Harold--Oh good me; I'm beginning to sound like you!"

 

"Yeah, God. I like it. Guess I'm a good influence.

 

(sigh) "Your question, please."

 

"You got it, God (just joking). Here, I got another one all ready to go. Eh, in the Bible, it talks about the four corners of the Earth. Was that because they didn't know the world was round?"

 

"Another expression. Don't let it keep you up nights."

 

"Oh, I like being up nights, at least like this. I mean, you and me shooting questions back and forth, challenging one another."

 

(sigh)

 

"But you got lots of Christians with pictures on their walls of Jesus looking up; didn't he know the world was round?"

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, well the reason I ask those kinds of questions is to demonstrate another thing about the guys with the funny eyes. If you look back in history you see them being sure as heck about something one day then sure as heck about something completely different the next: The world is flat; next day it's round. The sun revolves around the Earth; next day it's the other way around. And they never seem to learn; they go right on fitting new discoveries to what they want to believe. And their sure as heck when they're finished that their interpretation is the absolute truth."

 

"Humans are reluctant to revise long-held opinions, Harold."

 

"But messing with the facts is just fooling yourself, God--not you; I mean them. Why go right on like you were never wrong in the first place. And get pissed ... eh, mad ... if people start asking for proof the next time you come up with a new 'truth'? You ask and you get something like, 'What else can it be?' (Isn't that particular answer a contradiction, God. I mean, they're saying they don't know, therefore they know.)

 

"They're trying, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well so am I, God. But I'm looking for real truth not support for preconceived ideas. You know what I mean?"

 

"Yes I do, Harold. But you are suggesting that others do not harbor a similar quest for truth."

 

"Hey, I'm the first to give the other guy his due. I mean, if I see any reason to, that is. But what am to think when the rules change and not a heck of a lot of people see a problem in that?"

 

"Fear, Harold, the fear timid people have when faced with the prospect of questioning those they perceive as stronger than they. You share that tendency. I see it in you when you catch yourself before saying something you think might offend me."

 

"Yeah, well I'm not dumb, God."

 

"Dumb is relative, Harold."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Please go on. I sense you are about to tell me more of what you believe to be inconsistencies."

 

"Hey, how did you know that? Oh, yeah; you're God. Well, you take the case of what happened during the 18th century. God's ... eh, I mean your ... tendency to anger was hushed up a bit, especially in the Bibles people gave to children. Up to that point everybody said you were 'demanding and vengeful.' After that point you were declared to be a 'benign educator of humanity.' Now, how can both be true? What happens to yesterday's truth that I'm not supposed to question when a new truth that I'm not supposed to question is put into play? You see my problem, God?"

 

"More than you know, Harold."

 

"And what about the guy who's supposed to be infallible? One of your guys?"

 

"No human being is infallible, Harold."

 

"Well, he says he is."

 

"Saying so does not make it so."

 

"To me it doesn't, but to a lot of other people it does. Don't get me wrong; it's a great technique. I wouldn't mind if people believed that of me. Harold, the infallible; self proclaimed!"

 

"Would you 'lord' it over them, Harold?"

 

"Hey, not me. Not more than a little anyway. It's just a neat thought, that's all. Anyway this same infallible guy used to insist that the sun went around the Earth--he was ready to zap Galileo for saying something different."

 

"He was human, Harold. As I said, humans make mistakes."

 

"Yeah, okay, but it's humans who are telling me what's right and what's wrong and what to do. How do I know what they're saying now isn't just another 'mistake'?"

 

"The really passionate believers work with a crutch, Harold. The light of their religion makes them see what they believe--I got that from Thomas Aquinas by the way."

 

"Eh..."

 

"Give credit where credit is due, Harold. The point is, you must judge the passion of the person on whom you rely for any kind of information. Too much enthusiasm could block some or all of the value of what he or she might have said."

 

"Yeah, I buy what you're saying, God, but it sure makes me uncomfortable at times. These 'really passionate believers' can do harm to guys who don't play along."

 

"It is a discomfort you can do something about. There are people, Harold, who simultaneously hold great stature and questionable motives. What they believe they also imagine to be true and, as such, they become less and less able to handle what might threaten beliefs that they have no desire nor inclination to alter. The onus is on you to not be afraid to judge each of them on his or her merits, to decide for yourself how much of them you wish to endure."

 

"Not easy to do, God. Everybody's afraid to say something nasty about a guy who claims he's talking to you directly."

 

"Then they must suffer their lack of courage. As I have said, the passion of one's beliefs has little to do with whether those beliefs hold any validity. One who professes to have the 'true' knowledge has an obligation to fully and fairly consider opposing opinion. If he fails to do so, if he fails to challenge himself with all the doubts and counter-arguments that man can devise, then the beliefs he holds are less than commendable. They are little more than recordings in a stagnant mind, to be replayed upon Pavlov's call."

 

He let me see his eyes then, and what I saw was determination and just a hint of disgust. What I didn't know, however, was whether this was for me or for mankind in general. Since I was a lot closer to the lightning bolts, I hoped it was the latter. I even angled my head to see if the puff of cloud I was sitting on was grounded.

 

I also hoped he wasn't thinking I was picking on just one of his boys, the guy who thinks of himself as infallible, I mean. Just in case, I let him in on some of the other things I'd heard.

 

"You know, God, there are guys out there who believe it turns you on to see them murder people who don't think like they do. They say you take them into heaven faster when they do this."

 

"And you take them seriously?"

 

"Hey, you should see some of these guys, God. They get so wrapped up in one way of looking at things they go crazy if they don't get to die during an attack."

 

"Do you really imagine that I would be impressed by someone who tries to please me by hurting others, either physically or mentally? Do you imagine, with all I am capable of doing, that I need such people to accomplish what I wish to accomplish?"

 

"Hey, to me a crazy is a crazy; it doesn't matter what else is floating around in his mind or what side he's on. I'm just telling you what kind of opinion is floating around down there, what kind of people I gotta put up with. But these same guys, even though they try to get to paradise in a hurry, want to take revenge against whoever helped put them there--that's what I mean about not thinking things through."

 

"When you follow someone or something blindly, all you can truthfully say about yourself is that you are blind."

 

"Hey, I like that, God. That mean you agree with me?"

 

"No, Harold, it does not. It means only that I agree with your premise that human beings should think through what they believe. Especially if they are prone to act on those beliefs."

 

"Yeah, but what if they don't, God, think things through before they act, I mean? Some guys can only get to feeling good about themselves if they get others to go along with their ideas. They don't get satisfaction, they want to lash out at somebody."

 

"Then deal with them."

 

"Eh, we could use a little help in that, God. It's a humungus mess we're talking about here."

 

"The help you seek can be found among yourselves. I am not here to play human, Harold, as you are not here to play me. As humans you have created problems and as humans you must solve them."

 

"We can't call on you, God?"

 

"You can call on me all you want, Harold, but you must rely on yourselves."

 

"I gotta admit, God, I don't understand that."

 

"Someday you will, Harold. Someday you will."

 

I was a little surprised at that. It sounded like he was telling me we weren't exactly way up there on his list of priorities, that we should go our way as he intended to go his. But I held back asking him that, figuring there was something in his words he wanted me to think about. I mean, if I push everybody else to think things through, the least I can do is follow my own advice.

 

It was, however, a natural lead-in to my next set of questions.

 

"You know, God, one really big religion down on Earth says the gods are an invention of man, that you're sort of an imaginary playmate for adults."

 

"What do you think?"

 

"No way! Hey, I'm here with you now."

 

"You are asleep, Harold. How do you know you are not dreaming?"

 

"Well ... You know, God, these are the kind of questions I'm supposed to be asking you."

 

"Oh but you are asking them, Harold."

 

The air was getting thicker, and it was beginning to make me sweat. I looked around to see if God had a little stand-by fire going, you know, like a pilot light. There was nothing other than the cloud, nothing I could see at least, but just the thought of it was enough to make me want to play it safe. You know, go with the light stuff.

 

 

 

"When you waved your magic wand and said, 'Let there be light,' who were you talking to?"

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"Hey, no problem, God. A little too much to eat maybe?"

 

"I mean your question. Where did that come from?"

 

"Oh. Well, that was the start of everything, right?"

 

"Go on."

 

"Well who was there before everything started?"

 

"You would not understand, Harold."

 

"That's exactly it, God, I don't. I mean, if you were ordering someone to create light, were you sitting there in the dark? Did you need the light to see; did you even have eyes--I mean, if there wasn't any light, why would you need eyes? And who are the guys who did the job for you? Electricians maybe? Do they have the magic, or did you give them just enough to get the job done?"

 

"Harold?"

 

"And how did you know what light was if you didn't already have it?"

 

"Harold?"

 

"Eh, more 'expressions,' God?"

 

(sigh) "There are some questions that have no meaningful answers, Harold. Time, for example. By definition, it could never have begun, thus there is no answer to give whoever would ask that question."

 

"Gotcha. Boggles the mind, doesn't it, God?"

 

(sigh)

 

"But that brings up an interesting point We have to assume you're always right and we're always wrong--sounds a little like my ex-wife, by the way. But how do you yourself know that you're right? I mean, who told you this; who set you up in this God thing, and what was here before that?"

 

"I was always here."

 

"But how do you know that unless you asked somebody? I mean, you can't look back to the beginning of your memory because there is no beginning--sorta like time, and you just said there's no beginning to that. All you can do is keep searching further and further back, and not finding a beginning, you got the problem of not knowing why you're here. Or who made you. And the other part of that as well: not knowing for sure that whatever you're doing is right--I mean, who would have told you that? If there was a somebody, where did this guy come from, and how do you know he was telling the truth? It's sorta like that infallible thing: saying so doesn't make it so."

 

"You want to rephrase that, Harold?"

 

"Hey, no offense, God. I'm not always good at how I put things. What I mean is, even you can't know the beginning if there never was a beginning, and not knowing the beginning, you can't know how you got here or why. Yeah, I know, I'm playing lawyer again, but what this tells me is I don't know why I'm here either."

 

"You are here because of me."

 

"How about why you're here?"

 

"I'm here because I want to be."

 

"But how did you know you wanted to be here before you were here?"

 

"I was always here. I revert back to my statement that some questions have no meaningful answer."

 

"Well, okay, but aren't they still legitimate questions? Do we have to just accept things even when, in our minds, they don't fit so good? If I did that, just accepted it all, I mean, what I feel inside would still be there. I would still wonder why you were here, and I would still think that there would never have been a start where you could have made a conscious decision to be here, and if that didn't happen, you couldn't know why you wanted to be here and what the sense of it is and why being here is better than not being here."

 

"I am so pleased you decided to share all this with me, Harold."

 

"Hey, no problem, God, I just think a lot. Like where is 'here' for instance? In the scheme of things, I mean. How can you know the extent of your own boundaries if, by definition, you don't have any boundaries? How can you check out everything, keep a Godly eye on your realm so to speak, if there's no such thing as everywhere?"

 

As you see, I had trouble keeping the conversation light. Plus, I think I pissed my buddy, God, off a bit in pushing it as hard as I did. Still, I sure wish I had the answer to that--don't know what I'd do with it, but I'd sure like to have it. And while I was asking him about how he knew he wanted to exist, I was thinking the same thing about ourselves. How did we know we wanted life before we had it? What were we before we had life? Whatever it was, was it so bad that we wanted to switch to what we have now?

 

Anyway, I tried one last time before calling it a night. And this time I figured a way to finger somebody else.

 

"Do you have supervisors, God?"

 

"What?"

 

"I'm talking about the chaos on Earth. Do you have business managers or something like that, people who run things down there for you."

 

"And if I did?"

 

"Bingo! Hey you know, that was just a shot in the dark. Didn't know I'd hit the old nail on the old head. Well, if you want a little suggestion, God, I think you should check them out some, check out some of the things they got going. I mean, you'd think they don't even like working with one another. One guy brings rain to an area already drowning in flood, and another brings more sunshine to a place that desperately needs rain. Then you get....."

 

"Maybe 'they' are testing you."

 

"Naw, that wouldn't make sense. I mean they gotta know our threshold of pain; why would they need to 'test' it? Why would they even want to? It's like we have a pet and we stick pins in it to 'test' it--what kinda sense would that make? We wouldn't get a better pet out of it, only an angrier one. No, I think if your supervisors wanted to test, they'd go about it in a more humane way. A written exam, something like that."

 

"You don't believe in the value of pain, Harold?"

 

"Only when it helps at the same time, like when your hand is touching a hot stove and the pain makes you pull it back."

 

"How about suffering?"

 

"Seeing people suffer just makes me sad, God. And I don't see suffering adding character to anybody. I see it making them either depressed or bitter. The guys with the funny eyes and pointing fingers say this makes them a better candidate for heaven, but I think that's just sour grapes, a way to make people who are having a lousy life think their misery is helping them score points for the next one."

 

"Even if that were true, do you think this is so bad? Would you rather such people had nothing to seize on?"

 

"I'd rather they not suffer in the first place, God. Certainly not as a way to get them ready for heaven."

 

"How about to punish them?"

 

"Honestly, God, I just don't see that as the reason for misery. I mean, you get tiny little kids suffering big time--what did they do to deserve that? And old people and disappointed people and hurt people; what did they do? Why are so many people so wrong that they need so much misery dumped on them so often? Like my pet example, it's like us being really mean to a dog because it's acting too much like a dog. I'm not saying you can't whack the damn mutt alongside the head from time to time, but I don't see torturing him or setting fire to him, nothing like that. But that's exactly what they say you do. I mean, you, God, not your supervisors."

 

"They or you?"

 

"Hey, not me, God. I'm here to be set straight; that's what I'm trying to get across. I'm talking about the people who go around saying they talk to you, the people I've been complaining about, the loud guys with the funny eyes. They tell us a lot of mean and nasty stuff about what kind of a guy you are, how you're going to burn our butts for all of eternity if we step out of line. But you see, I don't believe a word of it. I mean, why would you do that?"

 

"But you don't mind if I 'whack you alongside the head' now and then?"

 

"Ha! Good one, God. Guess I had that coming."

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yes, God?"

 

"You have more questions?"

 

"Well, I feel a little stupid asking some of this, God."

 

"No one is stupid who seeks knowledge, Harold. Stupid is he who is content with the knowledge he has."

 

"Hey, no way that's me, God. Harold the malcontent, they call me."

 

(sigh)

 

"Well anyway--and I'm asking, not criticizing, you understand--but who designed our backs, one of your supervisors?"

 

"Yours doesn't function properly?"

 

"Mine and half of humanity's, God. We just weren't meant to stand on two feet."

 

"I can change that, Harold!"

 

"Oh would you, God? Man, I'm tired of my back aching all the time. So's everybody else I talk to."

 

(sigh) Go on to your next question, please.

 

"Yeah, well I'm kinda curious about why you would create something so much weaker than you?"

 

"Simple. I'm a jealous god. I don't like the idea of competition."

 

"Yeah, I hear you. But doesn't that--now don't get mad, God, I'm only talking--doesn't that suggest ... pride? And if pride is a sin for us, why is it so good for you?"

 

"You want to try that again, Harold?"

 

"Hey, don't get me wrong; I like pride. I got some myself, and for good reason. And I sorta like the idea of being a big boss some day. Maybe I never will be one, but I like to know that the possibility is there. With you, I guess it's gotta be different. No matter how hard we try we're not gonna get promoted all the way to God, right?"

 

"What do you think?"

 

"Yeah, I know, the job's taken."

 

"And you think that's unfair."

 

(shrug) "Well, it is in us to strive to be the best--I mean you put that thought there, right? And here in the good old USA, we don't believe in kings and queens and stuff like that, people who get where they are just by being born."

 

"Your point, Harold?"

 

"Well we got this 'strive-to-be-best' stuff in us but we can't do anything about it once we get in bed with you--no offense, God, just a way of speaking. We gotta be content with being inferior forever, sorta like a permanent underclass."

 

"Harold ..."

 

"Yeah, I know. I already said I'm not very good at how I put things sometimes. But it's not my fault if I'm confused about this stuff, God. And I really am trying to clear it all up. I wouldn't be here right now if I wasn't."

 

"Don't tempt me, Harold."

 

"Ha! Another good one, God; you got a way with words. But I still got questions that cry out for answers."

 

"Some other time, Harold."

 

"One more?"

 

(sigh) "One more."

 

"Well the resurrection. That's where you took Jesus..."

 

"I know how the story goes, Harold."

 

Yeah, right. But something about that always confused me. Why would you take his body up to heaven. I mean, you know, God, after a while a body starts to..."

 

"This is what has been keeping you up nights, Harold?"

 

"Well, I know you can't let him hang on to it. I mean, you let one guy keep his body, everybody else will want to do the same."

 

"Goodnight, Harold."

 

"Eh, goodnight, God."

 

Well, it ended better than it began, although I wasn't sure how close I came to being part of the 'suffering' I was complaining about. Sometimes I think I should just keep my doubts to myself.

 

But then, the big guy would know about them anyway, right? I mean, if he knows my heart, he knows my doubts, even if I don't always have the courage to admit them to myself; consciously, I mean.

 

I would have liked to've gotten something going on that suffering thing. That one really bothers me. It just makes no sense to me that a civilized being could suggest pain and suffering as a good way to make a person deserving. I mean, deserving of anything. Why am I more deserving if my finger hurts than if it doesn't? Why would a benevolent being want my finger to hurt, any more than I want to hurt the fingers of those inferior to me--and there are some, believe it or not? I feel sorry for those guys that are hurting, but I don't think making up stories about how it helps punch their ticket for the great beyond does anything other than stretch credibility. And create big-time doubters.

 

People are desperate to believe, too desperate at times, leastwise that's what I think. This coupled with being afraid to ask questions gives the loud-voice types a license to steal--both money and minds. They can make declarations that would better fit a fairy tale. Like one time, in response to me stubbing my toe, a guy sitting off to one side says, "God is sending you a message." Yeah, he's telling me to watch where the hell I'm walking. (I thought of belting the guy in the mouth then telling him God was trying to tell him to keep it shut.)

 

Me, I think we should try to push our fears far enough away to take a hard look at the stuff that, under any other circumstances, grownups would find ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

 

FOUR:

Doesn't it bug you to be interrupted

so much on your day off?

 

 

Well, by now I was pretty much into this thing, this thing where I get to unload on God and, in doing so, get things off my chest. My days had settled down to what they were before, although I still held on to that holy look, not only with my friends but while standing alone in front of mirrors as well. I kinda liked it. My nights, of course, were spent with the big guy. I liked that too.

 

I wondered why he continued to let this happen. I can't remember getting specific answers to any of my questions, although I always felt better having asked them. I mean, it not only helped me, but it also helped my fellow homo-whatsanames. It's like God now knows how the people think and can begin working on the problems. Politicians do that; a few of them do, at least.

 

"Hey, God, about this praying thing."

 

(sigh)

 

"Well, this is a biggie. I mean, some people think we should walk around all day begging you to do something that, by their definition, you aren't inclined to want to do on your own."

 

"Your question, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I gathered something together here that I want to run by you. You see, I figure it's not you expecting us to do this, this praying stuff, I mean. It's the heavy breathers, the guys with the funny eyes and loud mouths. Like what can a million repetitions of "please, God" do other than drive you up the wall, right?"

 

"Your question, Harold."

 

"I mean, you have your own mind and your own criteria. Besides, if everything is preordained, what we say isn't going make a heck of a lot of difference. You have it on the menu, you're going to do it. You don't, you won't."

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, okay, on to my idea. Well, what it is is proof that praying doesn't change a thing."

 

"Proof?"

 

"Statistical proof. You know, like political polls, only much bigger."

 

"You are serious about this?"

 

"Damn ... eh, darn straight, God. Look, the way it works is, the bigger the sample, the more reliable the results--isn't that what a poll is all about?"

 

"Your point?"

 

"Yeah, well you take a big enough poll that the accuracy can't be contested and whatever comes out of it is mathematical proof--ninety-nine point nine percent probability of it being the real skinny, that sort of thing. Sorta like proving whose blood you got by testing its DNA."

 

"Did you ever hear of the O.J. Simpson trial, Harold?"

 

"Yeah, I see your point, God. But I think that was humans doing the interpreting. Humans with a private agenda."

 

"And you don't think there'll be interpreters here who also serve a 'private agenda'?"

 

"Well, you can't get everybody to be honest with themselves, God, but if we make the sample large enough, like a million or even ten million cases, there are going to be a lot less people able to argue with the results."

 

"You are going to do this?"

 

"Ha! Too expensive for me, God. But hel ... eh, heck, for you it'd be a breeze. Just mortgage a galaxy or two."

 

"Harold!"

 

"Just joking, God. But think of it. You get the best experts in the world to construct the most unbiased questionnaire they can think of, then lay it on millions of people from thousands of different walks of life--rich, poor, in-between; happy, sad, in-between; everything you can think of that makes sense. You separate all these questionnaires into a bunch of categories--heavy praying types, medium praying types, all the way down to the guy who doesn't even know how to spell prayer."

 

"Present company excepted, Harold?"

 

"Ha! Good one, God. I know about praying; I just don't believe in it. I mean, I don't think I should keep at you to solve my problems. I figure you'd rather I quit begging and get out and do something to solve them myself."

 

"With some people, Harold, the problems become overwhelming."

 

"Hey, I hear you. But, like I said last night when we were talking about pain and suffering and stuff like that, I don't figure that's your doing. And I can't see you standing around waiting to hear someone beg you to stop hurting them--we got names for people who do stuff like that. Besides, a lot of the praying is just plain silly. I mean, you have students praying to do well on a final exam--If I was you, I'd tell them to open a book and get to studying. And somebody else praying their thanks to you when they have something great happen to them, like winning the lottery. Like you rigged the thing against all the other guys who played."

 

"When fortune hits, some people fear it will not continue unless they share the credit. That is human nature, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well it sure doesn't look good when they do it, God. And it doesn't look good when people accept this as a worthy demonstration of faith."

 

"Go on with your question, Harold."

 

"Yeah, the big statistical poll thing. Well, you separate each group into whatever categories best speak of the success they're having in life, both the good and the bad, then you check to see if there's any meaningful difference between these categories. The trick is all in the questionnaire. It's got to be constructed in such a way that you aren't just getting back what you want to see. You can't, for example, ask something dumb like, 'Does God answer your prayers?'--What nutcase would say no to that? I mean, he might see fifteen things going wrong with his life and only one thing going right and seize on the latter as a reason to answer yes to the question. My point is, if the questionnaire is put together by fair and reasonable people, then the results will be fair and reasonable and the truth will unfold. And with such a big sample, that truth will really be the truth."

 

"You apparently have decided that there will be no difference between groups."

 

"Well, that's why I say I don't think it's you wanting us to bug you with prayers day in and day out. When I look around the world, I see things happening to all kinds of people, rich or poor, smart or dumb, religious or non-religious. And because I'm not looking for what I want to find, I can see the randomness in it. Bad happens to good people and bad people anytime and anywhere; there's no pattern to it. People who pray see what they want to see and interpret what they want to interpret. No, God, I don't think they'll be any meaningful difference between groups. Not in a religious sense, there won't."

 

"A little pessimistic, don't you think, Harold?"

 

"Hey, I'm just telling you what I see of the real world. But you don't have to take my word for it, God. You can do the study and prove it one way or the other. The way I look at it, if I'm right, you won't have so many people telling you how to run your business."

 

"Which you, of course, would never do."

 

"Hey, no way. But since you ask, I got a few ideas about how to set up heaven."

 

"Goodnight, Harold."

 

"Eh, goodnight, God."

 

 

 

 

 

FIVE:

If we're your chosen, why did you make us a

Chevy rather than a Rolls?

 

 

 

Now I didn't really expect him to take me up on that, but if he had, one of the things I would have suggested is to get some safe areas going. You know, places where a body ... eh, a person ... could go to get away from all the guys he didn't like in life. I mean, who wants to spend eternity with people who make you barf? The loud, preaching types, for example. (I'll bet they'll continue to rant and rave even when there's no longer a reason to.)

 

I would also have suggested that he drop the wings-on-angels thing. It limits heaven to places that have air, and that makes it pretty small compared to everything that's out there in the big, wide universe. And I'd suggest he advertise more, you know, hire the best of Madison Avenue and let them tell the world what heaven's really like--maybe have special days or two-for-one sales, whatever makes good marketing sense. A splashy campaign would get people drooling, get them thinking straight, get the big guy more takers. Maybe we could get a frequent flyer program going for angels, that is unless he takes me up on that thing about repossessing angel wings.

 

I had the idea that what I was saying about praying might not make me an instant hit in his eyes, but I figured the big guy's ego could take the hit. I mean, if his ego is that fragile, what chance do any of us have of surviving all of eternity? How could we possibly keep from saying the wrong thing, especially during the first million years when we're still settling in? Heck, I came close to doing so in just a few nights.

 

While I was talking to God about praying, I almost said something about worship. I held back even though I question this as well. I mean, I question whether that really came from him. If I did that to someone on Earth--worship a fellow human, I mean--you'd call it kissing ... eh, up. Now I might like that kind of ego boost myself, but not all the time. After a few thousand years I'd be ready to tell all my worshippers to put a cork in it.

 

The way I see it, it's insulting to say that a God, who we claim is above it all and can do anything he wants, could be so small?" I mean, it makes him sound like a Roman emperor or a crazy middle east despot. Think about what kind of personality somebody would have to have to want to be "worshipped" all the time?

 

"Hey, god, you got rules about praying in heaven?"

 

"I thought you didn't believe in prayers, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I still had to ask. I mean, I never said I had all the answers."

 

"Oh my, I will have to revise your file."

 

"Ha! You're quick, God. But anyway, I figure the answer is no. I mean if we already have paradise, what would we be praying for?"

 

"Good point, Harold."

 

"Eh, God, I detect a little sarcasm there."

 

"A God's prerogative, Harold."

 

"Hey give the devil his ... eh, I guess that's not a great saying in this neck of the woods, eh, God?"

 

(sigh)

 

He knows I didn't mean anything by that. It was just an expression, something that popped into my mind--happens a lot. The same thing about the giant poll on praying; it just popped into my mind. And when that happens, why not come right out and say it, right? He'd be more pissed at me for trying to hide it than for blurting it out in a forthright manner like I always do.

 

What I didn't say, because I sorta chickened out by then, was that the same kind of poll could apply to religion in general. I mean, you could do a survey that would check out how people of different religions have fared in life. My bet is, there wouldn't be a dime's worth of difference between any of them. Good and bad happens to representatives of all ten thousand religions pretty much equally.

 

On thinking about it, I decided it was worth chancing a question or two with God.

 

"Hey, God, what religion am I supposed to be?"

 

"What?!"

 

"What religion is the right one, I mean. They can't all be right; they don't believe the same thing. I got people telling me they're the only ones who got it right, that you're only interested in people who believe in religion 5,648. Then I got other people saying the same thing but about religion 8,926--which contradicts religion 5,648. When I ask them why I should believe them above everybody else, all they say is that I should pray to you for guidance."

 

"Search your heart; what do you see there?"

 

"Yeah, I hear you, and I did that. But all that's sitting in my heart at the moment is confusion and frustration."

 

"You have no inclination? One direction or another?"

 

"Yeah, I have an inclination to go with the flow; to go along with whoever yells the loudest and threatens me the most. But doing that won't change a thing, inside of me, I mean. I'll still be wondering which one, if any, is the truth--if there is a truth out there, that's the one I want to go with."

 

"And what do you think is the truth?"

 

"Don't have a clue."

 

"You don't know what you believe?"

 

"No, I don't mean that. I mean I don't have a clue which of these thousands of voices is giving me the real skinny. My heart--and every other part of my body--wants to believe something, but not something so filled with holes that to believe it I gotta look the other way. There are too many people doing that; too many people who substitute faith for truth--if they believe it, they have 'faith' that it's true."

 

"You don't believe in faith either, Harold?"

 

"Well, that's just it, God. Faith in what? Religion 236, 3,495, 9815? Some say if we guess wrong, we lose our souls? Ask a representative of any single religion and they'll swear they know the answer to that question. And they'll say it's you guiding them in this, God, that they're only doing your bidding."

 

"And you believe otherwise?"

 

"Oh heck yes! Whatever god they're talking about, it isn't you. I mean, why would you tell one guy one thing and another guy just the opposite? All that does is get them to fighting one another--there is a lot of that going on, God."

 

"The insecurity thing, Harold. People become insecure in direct proportion to how effectively their beliefs are questioned."

 

"Well, don't get me wrong, God. They're not all that way. Some of these heavy-believer types are really nice about it, being questioned, I mean."

 

"But you cannot find 'faith' in what they say."

 

"Well, I don't gotta be some kind of mental giant to know that nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine of the ten thousand religions gotta be wrong. If one guy says something is black and the next guy says it's white, one of these guys ought to rethink his bets. It's simple physics."

 

"Logic, Harold, not physics."

 

"Yeah, close enough. But I was hoping you'd give me the real skinny. Then I'll know and can tell the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine screamers of today and the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine screamers that are sure to pop up tomorrow where to put their ideas. What do you say, God?"

 

"I say it's past your bedtime, Harold."

 

"Eh, a minute more, God? This is really important and if you make me wake up now, I'll only have to ask the same thing tomorrow night."

 

(sigh)

 

"I guess that means, okay, right, God?'

 

"Go on, Harold."

 

"Well maybe you could do it a different way. Take all those people with the bulging eyes and help them to cooperate, help them to think it through."

 

"And how do you suggest I do this?"

 

"Simple, fry their butts--just a little, I mean. At the very least, it would get them out of everybody's face."

 

"Their hands would be busy soothing their simmering butts rather than gesturing at the sky."

 

 

"You got the picture real good, God."

 

"A modest proposal indeed, Harold."

 

"You really think so, God? Well I been doing a lot of heavy thinking, and I guess some of it shows."

 

"Some of it, Harold."

 

I gotta say, it was like pulling teeth trying to get the big guy to give me the skinny on this. Well, I don't know if he has teeth, but you know what I mean.

 

But the question was probably the most important one I'd posed since we started having these nightly chats, and I knew if I had the answer here, I'd be halfway there. I really meant it when I told God that the concept of 'faith' doesn't cut it with me. By definition it's belief in the absence of fact. And if you let yourself decide things on faith rather than fact, where do you draw the line? Should you have faith in Hitler? In Stalin? Should a Christian nod agreement when a Buddhist asks him to accept Buddha on faith? Or a Moslem with Jesus? I mean, if you got a Buddhist who relies on faith and a Christian who relies on faith then common sense should tell you that, for at least one of these guys, faith isn't getting the job done.

 

"You are a picture of tolerance, Harold."

 

"Hey, tolerance is my middle name, God. It's just I don't like a lot of the people I tolerate."

 

(sigh)

 

Anyhow, why should faith be substituted for God-given reasoning? Me, I think there should be more of the old brain power applied to what a guy believes. If it fits, run with it; if it doesn't, change it or chuck it. What I see out there right now is far from what I would flatter with the term "brain power." I see people locking step with other people, falling into line on the basis of faith and swearing passionate allegiance to religion 7,892, this even though they never bothered to get to know the others. It's sorta like the concept of tradition; "If our forefathers did it this way, that's good enough for me."

 

"Too often, tradition is the refuge of small minds, Harold. Why should those who are no longer alive get to call the shots for you? The knowledge available to mankind today is superior to that available to your "forefathers;" logic suggests that this makes their viewpoints and their arguments less defensible than your own."

 

"Yeah, I hear you, God, but I didn't mean to condemn tradition, at least not all the way. I mean, some of it is sorta nice; some of the things I used to do as a kid gives me kicks even today. And the ceremonies and stuff like that; I don't know what we'd do without them."

 

"What you keep and what you discard is completely up to you, Harold. I merely encourage you to make it your choice and not the choice of those who have already lived their lives."

 

I didn't argue the point because I agreed with him. I think too many people hide behind weak statements and call it "tradition"--"Our forefathers wanted it this way," stuff like that. Sometimes people say such things to make something else they're saying go down easier. Like guys who say we should as a nation "favor" the religion that our forefathers favored. Putting aside the error in that--we had all kinds of religions in the founding fathers, which is probably the reason they tried to come up with something fair to everybody--that's just another way of one guy trying to bully his beliefs onto his neighbor.

 

I guess religion itself is a form of tradition. I mean, for most people religious education is not so much a search for knowledge as it is memorizing all the things your parents believe. Oh, there are some who look into the competition, but mostly this is just in search of reasons why the next guy's beliefs don't stand up to their own. They don't look at what religion 3,801 really is, where it came from, and why so many good people swear by it.

 

"Hey, God, I got a good example of why we need help. We got all kinds of people--people of good heart--feeding their kids a narrow point of view and telling them it's hard fact."

 

"Your point, Harold?"

 

"Well, I'm wondering the value of what these kids wind up believing. Or what their parents believe for that matter, since chances are they got it from their parents? And what about the morality of telling kids that there's only one truth, that everybody else got it wrong?

 

"To them everyone else does have it wrong."

 

"Yeah, but it's gotta be obvious even to them that what they say can't be fact if they can't prove it and if somebody else disagrees with them--which is always the case."

 

"Yes, but you can not prove them in error either, and that to them is a more salient 'fact.'"

 

"Well, okay, but what does that say about the concept of truth? Why is Catholicism true if you grow up in a Catholic home and Judaism true if you grow up in a Jewish home? You switch these kids at birth and chances are they're going to see it different. The Catholic kid will swear by Judaism and the Jewish kid will swear by Catholicism. Same with any other religion; chances are the kids are going to accept what they're told by their parents, maybe even beat up other kids to prove how right they are. To them, everybody else is some kind of nutcase who can't see the 'light' that they can see so easily. And these are nice people I'm talking about; good people."

 

"Would you have parents teach their children something that they themselves do not believe?"

 

"Well, no, but anyone with a shred of honesty about him has got to know that he's skirting the truth if not outright lying to his own flesh and blood. I gotta wonder why people do that. Does it strengthen their own beliefs if they brainwash their kids the same way they were brainwashed when they were kids? Me, I think they should tell the little monsters the truth, that there are thousands of different opinions on what happens after death, and that no one currently alive has any way of proving which one, if any, is correct.

 

"They follow their hearts, Harold."

 

"Are you saying there's no harm done, God?"

 

"That depends on how demanding a parent is that their children adhere to the specifics of their teachings."

 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I've seen parents drive their kids away from religion entirely just by being too strict."

 

"To the extent that they do not inflict a crippling trauma on their child, they are merely passing on their opinion--even as they present this as fact. And what opinion they pass on is, as you say, born of good intent."

 

"I think I know what you're saying, God, that I should be more tolerant. It's just that I have trouble understanding why it isn't better if the kids know all the facts rather than just a few. Then they could start thinking for themselves."

 

"Not realistic under today's circumstances, Harold. The subject matter engenders too much emotion."

 

As you can see, this one really gets to me. It wouldn't be half bad if "the subject matter" didn't bring so much havoc to the world. Having so many opinions, each competing for that illusive "one and only truth," brings out the worst in people. Not just now, but all through recorded history. Jealousy, hate, intolerance and more wars than I can count, all between "good" God-fearing people and all in the name of this or that brand of religion. I wouldn't ask God this--at least not directly--but I often get to wondering whether peace on earth and good will toward men wouldn't be better served by encouraging less religion rather than more.

 

 

 

 

 

SIX:

You going to write any more books?

 

 

 

"It's me, God. Harold. I'm asleep again and I got an idea."

 

"There is a me after all."

 

"Hey, you're in a good mood tonight, huh, God?"

 

"Are you saying I have bad moods, Harold?"

 

"Well, you can bet I'm watching out for them. I mean, taking care to be diplomatic and all."

 

"'Diplomatic?'"

 

"Yeah. That's where you watch what y..."

 

"I know what the word means, Harold."

 

"Oh yeah, of course. You probably invented it, huh?"

 

(sigh) I take it you are still on the same kick?"

 

"Well, sorta. I've been reading about ancient religions, the ones we don't believe in any more."

 

"False Gods."

 

"Yeah, everybody agrees with that now. Trouble is, religions come and go yet nobody learns from this, how we laugh at what went before us even as we grab a new religion and fly with it. And even as this new religion changes over time. Your guy Jesus, for example, he's only two thousand years old, but already the truth about what he was and what we should do to acknowledge him is split hundreds of ways, some of them sporting claims that are really far out. Like the guys who believe they have the right to lord it over gals. And other guys who think you want them to have a bunch of wives--I gotta confess, that one might have a little of the old 'socially redeeming value.'"

 

"You see that as fair, Harold?"

 

"Hey, they don't say much about fair, God. They say you're the one telling them to do this, that the gals have to give in or risk getting a barbecued butt from you."

 

"You said you had an idea, Harold."

 

"Yeah, something you said last night about giving you advice."

 

"And you're not worried that I might consider this a bit ... presumptuous?"

 

"Well, I figured you liked a guy with initiative, a guy willing to jump in and do his bit no matter what the risk to him personally."

 

(sigh) "Proceed, Harold."

 

"Well, I've been reading about the goddess Astarte, where those who believed in her worshipped in a kinda nice way. When they felt the need to be holy, they sought out a little knookie."

 

"Knookie?"

 

"Yeah, that's where a guy and a gal..."

 

"I know the procedure, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I figured this into my campaign to advertise heaven--I did tell you about that, didn't I?"

 

"What do you think?"

 

"Oh sure, you read my mind. Well the other things I said ... eh, thought ... were intended in a good way, God. I meant, no offense, right?"

 

"You think I should 'advertise' to those who wish to join me here in heaven that an 'Astarte' will be waiting to greet them?"

 

"Well, not exactly, God. I just thought it wouldn't hurt for a little of that stuff to leak through in our worship of you. That would boost the old attendance in church a bit."

 

"You want to think that through, Harold?"

 

"Huh? Oh god, God. I didn't mean you directly. I didn't mean that."

 

"Who do you imagine would carry out such a ... benefit?"

 

"Well, now that you come ... eh get ... right down to it, God, I guess you're right: I do need to think it through."

 

"Please do, Harold. ...And let me know if you come up with something that might work."

 

"Ha! Way to go, God! You really are in a good mood tonight."

 

(sigh)

 

I figured he wasn't too disappointed with my suggestion, and that encouraged me to think up more. Heck, any place could use a little livening up from time to time, even heaven. After a few thousand years of tiptoeing around trying not to make waves, a little diversion would be a godsend ... eh, blessing. The place could probably use a little maintenance too.

 

That last thought brought to mind another question to ask the big guy: Who does the cleaning in heaven. I wonder if he has trouble getting them to do windows.

 

"Hey, God, you going to write any more books?"

 

"You do think in mysterious ways, Harold."

 

"Yeah, I guess we are a pair at that, you and me. What I mean is--and I'm not saying I didn't like your first book--in today's world, the Bible is read so many different ways, you don't know what to believe. We need a new edition, an updated version, bigger and better, with all the really cool words of today--you can make room for them by dropping the thee's and the thou's. That's not how they talked in your time anyway. I mean, they talked Hebrew, right?"

 

"It could be that I like the gentle nature of the thee's and the thou's, Harold."

 

"Hey, no sweat; we go with the thee's and thou's. Anyway, I think there's merit to my idea, God. I mean, you don't want to go down as a one-book author. ...Hey, God, where'd you go; I was talking."

 

There was another part of that I wanted to ask: About an article I read mentioning the possibility of the Bible being written by a woman, that the way it presents women, in a more favorable light than anyone thought of women in those days, sorta hints at that. The subtle humor too; more like a woman's humor. Just as well he bugged off; my asking could prompt him to start looking around for lightning bolts. You know how authors can be when you mess around with their stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

SEVEN:

(This being the seventh night,

me and God.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

EIGHT:

Why should the meek inherit anything?

 

 

Well I sure put my foot in it that night. Enough so that, as soon as I woke up, I crossed off a lot of the questions I was figuring to ask. I mean, you come close to the fire enough times and you're going to feel the heat--I think Harry Truman said that.

 

Even so, I believe my idea about Astarte would work if God and me put our heads together. It's not that I think Earthly pleasures are more important than heavenly bliss. Just that they have a certain flavor to them that isn't all that bad. I mean, God must have tried the sex thing at one time, otherwise why would he have thought to pass it through to us. And since he did pass it through to us, he must have wanted us to use it. Nice guy that God. Good morale builder.

 

 

 

"Hey, God, why don't we ever talk during the daytime?"

 

"I have my limits, Harold."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Between our talks, I feel a great need to rest."

 

"Yeah, I get a little tired myself. The next time we get to the seventh night we should party a little."

 

(sigh) "I feel that need pouring over me again."

 

"Hey, no sweat, God. I'll let you go."

 

"You know, Harold, sometimes I wish I had given you a sense of humor. Go on with your questions, please."

 

"Eh, yeah. Well, my question is, why do you prefer simple people? I mean, why should the meek inherit anything, let alone the whole Earth? What did they ever do to deserve that?"

 

"Jesus Christ, did I say that?"

 

"Eh, God?"

 

"Another God joke, Harold. I suppose I was expecting too much of you to understand it."

 

"No, I get it; I really do. Pretty good, God. But you gotta watch that blasphemy. Ha ha--a little human joke, God."

 

(sigh)

 

"Yeah, well anyway, everybody has something to say about the 'simple people' being special to you? I mean, that tells me I gotta stay dumb or poor all my life or I'm going to come out second. What I want to know is, what's wrong with those who use the brains and the determination that you gave them? What's wrong with people who get ahead? Or get rich? What does being rich do to a guy that being poor doesn't--they say money doesn't buy happiness, God, but the last time I looked, neither does poverty?"

 

"You are a complicated person, Harold."

 

"That mean this isn't a good question?"

 

"No, it means, among other things, that you make much the same assumptions that you find fault in in others then proceed as if, in believing them, you imagine them to be true."

 

"Are you saying you don't give preference to the poor?"

 

"My preference is to humanity, Harold. When you attempt to qualify that, you do so at your own peril. I suggest that, in keeping with your proclaimed desire to see truth, you take a hard look at where and why such claims originate."

 

"Sour grapes?"

 

"In part. There is also a need to be more than one appears to be on Earth--to one's self, I mean--you suffer the same need; I can see that in you. If one is ... unlucky ... on Earth one wishes to believe that this will be made up for in death."

 

"Eh, will it, God?"

 

"You seek truth, Harold, but in many ways you are not ready for it."

 

"Eh..."

 

"Perhaps later, Harold. For now I will agree only to receive another of your ... questions."

 

"Yeah, okay, God. But maybe we can get back to that one later, huh?"

 

"Your next question, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I have another one about heaven."

 

"I thought we already discussed that."

 

"Oh, that was about where heaven was. What I'm wondering now are things like, if everybody is so set on going to heaven, why are they so afraid of dying? And why do they get upset when someone close to them dies if they think they're going to see them again in heaven?"

 

"That would be better answered by them."

 

"Yeah, well it strikes me as a little inconsistent, like when it really comes down to it, they don't believe."

 

"Perhaps they are afraid of the process of dying."

 

"Sure, some of them probably are, but others go ape over the very thought of it, even when it's a matter of dying in their beds. I've seen people afraid to go to sleep at night, afraid they won't wake up."

 

"As I say, ask them."

 

"Yeah, well, I sure wish I knew what they ...

 

"Ask them, Harold."

 

"Eh, yeah sure, God. Well how about this one: There was a study that suggested religion is good for your health. I thought about that one for a long time, God, and what bothers me about it is it says that if you're super-religious it will take you longer to get to heaven than if you were casual about religion. I mean, like you take slackers into Heaven faster."

 

"I take back what I said about your sense of humor, Harold. Go on."

 

"I wasn't being funny, God."

 

"I disagree, Harold, you were being very funny. Go on!"

 

"Eh, yeah. Whatever you say, God. Well, and this is the last one I got on heaven."

 

"Praise me."

 

"Yeah, I hear you, God, and I'm not trying to tell you how to run your shop ... eh, heaven ... or anything like that. But now that we're on the subject, I got a few ideas."

 

"I heard them; I tapped your mind last night."

 

"Oh not those. I got new ones. But I gotta tell you, you might not like these as much as you did those other ones."

 

"I don't remember liking the earlier ones all that much."

 

"Well, it was pretty late and we were both a little tired. Sometimes that makes me forget things too."

 

(sigh)

 

"Well, I was thinking of getting a good old American democracy going. You know, where everybody gets a vote."

 

(sigh)

 

"You see, we're taught all our lives that we should be free. In America, we put great stock in having a voice and an opinion--we don't agree with something, we sing out. Everybody says that's a good thing; makes us stronger, makes us better people, that kind of thing. But then I hear that even to hint that I feel that way where you're concerned makes me some kind of devil. Too 'ambitious' in your eyes. I gotta tell you, that confuses me some. Why is democracy so good in America and so bad in heaven?"

 

"I go by different rules."

 

"Yeah, but I got trouble figuring out what you're trying to tell us by that. I mean, do you want us to get a King going in America, is that it? Something a little closer to what you got going in heaven?"

 

"You think I'm a dictator?"

 

"Hey, no way, God. Well, I guess you do have the final say on things. All things, for that matter. But 'dictator' is a nasty word. No way it would apply to you. No way would I imply..."

 

"Let it go, Harold."

 

"But you gotta admit, you do have a kingdom. I mean, everybody talks about it, 'the Kingdom of Heaven' and all that.

 

"Harold?"

 

"Eh, we getting close to butt burning, God?"

 

"The thought has crossed my mind."

 

"Ha!--I mean I hope it's 'ha.' But this does run up against what we talked about a few nights ago, the thing about bettering ourselves, always aspiring to be something greater. It's kinda hard to grow up that way, where you got all kinds of Nathan Hales telling you you should be willing to die rather than give up your freedom, then forget all about that when you do die."

 

"Are you saying you will not be happy any other way?"

 

"Hey, I don't want to throw away what I got. Especially when there aren't a heck of a lot of alternatives. I just wonder the why about it, God. I mean, the way I see it, I'm going to be on permanent welfare. Whatever I get will depend on you. My job is to just go along--forever. It makes me think."

 

"Do you know what a lobotomy is, Harold?"

 

"Ha! Always the jokester, God. But I'm beginning to follow you better. I mean, I gather from our time together that you want me to work a lot of this out by myself, right? I mean, I can't believe there aren't some good answers sitting out there."

 

"You mean, you don't want to believe there aren't."

 

"Yeah, I guess that's it. Sorta a contradiction of what I've been saying, huh? I want to believe so I invent reasons why I should, the same kind of thing everybody else does."

 

"You're growing up, Harold."

 

"I sure wish I knew what you meant by that, God."

 

 

 

 

 

 

NINE:

Don't you believe in democracy?

 

 

 

I knew he was right, even if I didn't know what he was saying. I was doing my own kind of inventing, my need to believe no less than anybody else's. That disappoints me; I disappoint me. I'm no better than the guys I complain about.

 

No that's not true. I'm weak like all humans are weak, but I'm trying, I mean really trying--the quality of the questions I ask my good buddy, God, proves that. I don't think other people try as hard. They hide behind their prejudices and their fears; they hang around in the dark and talk about seeing light. And they're quick to attach religious meaning to random events. Like they'll see two hundred people get mashed to pieces in an airplane crash, then find a baby still alive and cry, "miracle"--what about the two hundred who got mashed?!

 

If you examine enough disasters, sooner or later you'll find one where somebody pulls through when you think they can't. That's what 'random' is all about. It's just fooling ourselves if we make more of it than that, if we make something of our good luck without also making something of the times when our luck isn't so good. If a plane manages to land on a shoestring, we say it's God's work, but when it crashes we say somebody screwed up. What kind of logic says the squashed guys are our doing and the safe landing is God's doing?

 

"I believe I answered that, Harold. When fortune hits, some people fear it will not continue unless they share the credit."

 

"But this is what I mean, God. Some of it is so obvious that you gotta be half asleep to go along with it?"

 

"I 'gotta'?"

 

"Oh not you, God, the human guys. Like a little while ago there was a church dinner where close to four hundred people came down with food poisoning while they were inside the church. Yet nobody thought about that, how it points to the randomness of it all (if they don't believe it happened at random, then they gotta believe all these churchgoers were singled out for special treatment, like maybe you got tired of hearing all that praying I was talking about earlier.)"

 

(sigh)

 

"Then they went on to say the fate of those still fighting for their lives is in the hands of you. Pardon me for asking the obvious, God, but whose hands was it in before they ate the poisoned food?"

 

"The other side of my previous answer, Harold, also involving fear. Fear of what else might befall them should they fail to respond as required."

 

"'Required,' God?"

 

"If they believe it, Harold, then to them it is required."

 

"Yeah, but isn't that superstition?"

 

"To you perhaps, but certainly not to them."

 

"Yeah, but..."

 

"Give it time, Harold.

 

I began to wonder whether I'd be given that much time; I mean, the questions were piling up faster than the answers.

 

Anyway, the worst one for me was a Catholic elementary school in Philadelphia that burned down in the fifties taking almost a hundred kids along with it. What kind of miracle was that? Were those tiny little people sinners, or was God just having a bad day? The point is, when beliefs get to the point where they just don't make sense, it's hard to keep on believing--unless, as God said, a person is afraid to do otherwise. And if that's the case then he gotta hope he can convince his subconscious, because that little sucker knows the real truth.

 

"You know, God, it's like people want to live in a fairy tale, where there are good fairies and bad fairies. The good fairies can do no wrong and the bad fairies can do no right--this is grownups I'm talking about here. For example, the funny-eyes guys say that you do only good, but then say five minutes later that if we use your name in a way you don't like, you're going to singe our butts, maybe for all eternity. That's good? That makes sense?"

 

"Assumptions again, Harold. Don't believe everything you hear. Think for yourself."

 

"But they're pretty loud about that particular subject, God. Using your name in vain kind of stuff, I mean."

 

"Do you think me so shallow, Harold? Do you think, after creating a universe as vast as this, that I would get all weepy-eyed over a misapplication of my name? Especially when, in the eyes of so many offenders, they are simply giving voice to a momentary disappointment or an onset of pain?"

 

I liked that. It was a good solid answer. It made sense. If we caught someone making fun of our president, we wouldn't set him on fire--unless he was from the other party. We wouldn't do this even for a single day, let alone for eternity. Heck, we don't even treat murderers that way, regardless of what party they belong to.

 

Same kind of thing with punishment in general. If we yell "cruel and unusual punishment" for mankind, why do we blindly accept as okay whatever is dealt out by God (or whatever the funny-eyes guys say is dealt out by God)? Me, I think this is just another example of fairy tale craziness. We let people invent things because we're afraid to challenge what they say. They present opposition to what they're saying as going against God, and this makes our base superstitions kick in. We get to thinking the big guy is about to unlock the closet where the lightning bolts are kept.

 

I figured this was a good one to lay on God.

 

"Don't you believe in democracy, God?"

 

"I told you, Harold, I have different rules."

 

"But what I'm asking now is whether you agree that torching a guy for a little misstep here and there is a bit extreme, what we Americans call 'cruel and unusual punishment'? Me, I think it's the invention of the people down there, not you."

 

"Believers have a tendency toward the extreme at times, Harold."

 

"'Knoweth not what they do,' eh God?"

 

"Something like that."

 

"Eh, that mean you wouldn't set us on fire for stepping out of line?"

 

"Are you really asking whether I am 'enlightened,' Harold? As 'enlightened' as those who run your 'democracy'?"

 

"Well, gosh, God, I don't know. That depends on what you're going to do to me if I say yes."

 

"Next question, Harold."

 

"Eh, yeah, God. It's just that there are a lotta people down there thinking you don't like what they're doing, and that you're going to show your displeasure in some really scary ways."

 

"Representatives of your 'democracy'?"

 

"Well, yeah. But if we got it wrong, we wouldn't mind you setting us straight."

 

"Suppose I said that you should conduct yourselves as you imagine I do, that you should inflict immense cruelties upon one another for even the slightest of infractions. Would you consider then that you have been 'set straight'?"

 

"Well, ..."

 

"Would you then seek to persuade your lawmakers that you have been 'enlightened,' that you have learned the preferred method of addressing one another's indiscretions?"

 

"Well, ..."

 

"'Well' what, Harold?!"

 

"Well, when you put it that way ..."

 

"When I 'put it that way,' the absurdity of it shines through. Might I suggest, Harold, that when you attribute such behavior to me, you are in effect saying that I am absurd as well?"

 

"Gosh, God, I sure don't mean to suggest that!"

 

"Then don't, Harold! Next question, please."

 

"Yeah, but I didn't mean to be insulting."

 

"Even so, you are, Harold. You all are, not only in what you attribute to me but in how easily you excuse yourselves in doing so."

 

I couldn't be sure, but I think I made him angry. I didn't hear thunder or anything like that, but it sorta came through, the anger I mean. It makes me wonder what he really thinks about us, whether he's mad or just disappointed. I can understand the latter: just look at what we are, how little able we are to get along with each other. But then, we are his creations, and if we're a Chevy and not a Rolls, I figure he meant us to be that way and won't hold it against us. Like we produce a kid, we gotta look out for him, no matter what he turns out to be.

 

"I have had many creations, Harold. I had Neanderthals in Europe, Java Man in Asia and Homo Sapiens in Africa. The last group--which is you--decided to wander and soon the other two ceased to exist. The behavior of Homo Sapiens has not changed all that much since then, Harold."

 

"Well, I'm not saying we're perfect, God, but..."

 

"Let's move on, please."

 

"Eh, yeah, sure. Well, actually this does relate to what we're talking about: there's a lot of confusion down there, God, and it make us do funny things, like what you were saying about the Neanderthal and Java guys. I'm not blaming you, you understand. But maybe you could goose your supervisors a bit. I mean, Christ ... eh heck. Under-achievers, every one of them."

 

"Under-achievers?"

 

"Like I said, it's a mess down there; a real mess. All kinds of things happening to all kinds of people, some of it really mean and bad. We got people who don't want to hold on to life, it's so bad."

 

"And you think I am the cause of this."

 

"Well, whoever you got pressing the buttons, God. I mean, if that's how it works."

 

"You think I should wave a wand and make everyone happy."

 

"Well, It wouldn't hurt. I can't see you liking misery any more than we do."

 

"And how do you suppose I go about this?"

 

"Hey, that's great that you're asking, God, cause I got ideas coming out of my ... eh ... ears. Like, I hear all about you waving your hand and saying let there be this or let there be that. Why not do it again--I mean when you're not too tired and in a good mood, of course?"

 

"Which hand should I wave, Harold?"

 

"I'm not sure what you're asking, God."

 

"You know what I should do but not how I should do it."

 

"Yeah, I hear you. I didn't mean to play you or anything like that. I just thought it'd be nice if you could say something like, 'Let there be happy humans!' I mean, you could say let them be good humans at the same time; that'd be okay. Then they wouldn't pis ... eh anger you so much. I figure it's in your power to do this; everybody says so."

 

"The 'guys with the funny eyes'?"

 

"Yeah, I guess I am beginning to sound like them, but from where I stand, it sure looks like a good thing. As near as I can figure, nobody asked to be born, so popping them out then throwing some bad stuff their way doesn't strike me as all that fair--no offense, God."

 

(sigh)

 

"I mean, if it was me who made them, I'd feel like..."

 

"I get your point, Harold."

 

"And you're not mad, God?"

 

"As you said, Harold, my ego can take the hit."

 

I still think I made him mad, though. For the rest of the conversation, he didn't make any God jokes. He didn't even poke fun at me like he sometimes does. It got me to thinking that maybe I'm doomed to keep all these questions bottled up inside me forever--I can tell you, that's a thought I don't like. Wouldn't do much for me or anybody else as far as I can see.

 

I still think he or his supervisors could put some of my ideas into play. Like before a war starts, let everybody know which side the big guy is on. That would slow down the misery a bit. If God had declared himself before World War II, fifty million families wouldn't have lost a loved one. (Wouldn't you love to see the faces of the wrong side when he announces his decision?)

 

I tried to lighten up the conversation by talking about the Big Bang, the thing that got the whole universe going. But when I said, "It must've scared the hell out of you when it happened," he stared at me for a long moment then woke me up.

 

 

 

 

 

TEN:

Is heaven like permanent welfare?

 

 

"God, you gotta tell me, am I going through all this for a purpose, or is feeling like a dog going to be my lot for eternity?"

 

"Where did that come from, Harold?"

 

"Well, I got to thinking about last night, what we were saying about all the misery on Earth."

 

"What you were saying, you mean."

 

"Well, yeah, but your supervisors should be reporting back to you that it's really happening."

 

"Is it real for you too, Harold?"

 

"Hey, I'm not one to complain, but I haven't always had an easy time of it."

 

"And you think I should pave the way for you--'permanent welfare' I think you called it."

 

"Well I was thinking about heaven not Earth. And isn't that what we're led to believe, that everything will be roses up here?"

 

"Yes, it is what you are led to believe."

 

"I don't follow you, God."

 

"You relate to me the many opinions on Earth in regard to what is or what isn't. You add that many of these opinions do not make sense. Why then do you accept the 'opinion' that 'all will be roses' as a result of your passing on to heaven?"

 

"I'm not sure whether you're chiding me for not believing enough or telling me I should question this as well."

 

"You pride yourself in questions, Harold. And in your willingness to express them. It shows inconsistency to draw a limit to any part of what you believe. Indeed, in your mind, to do so represents a form of sacrilege."

 

"I like the way you put that, God, but I'm still not sure what you're telling me. That I should or that I shouldn't."

 

"It is yet another thing you must think about, Harold."

 

"Sometimes I think there are too many things I have to think about, God. And that I won't ever get the answers I'm looking for."

 

"Are you sure they exist?"

 

"Well I'm sure I'm here with you now. At least I think I am--some people say you're only in our mind, there to make us think we don't have to die."

 

"Dying gets you into the realm of the unknown, and for most people that is a realm they would rather not think about."

 

"Except when they think it's not going to happen."

 

"They are dying, Harold. Why deny them their desire to make it less than that? Up to the point where their human mind dissolves, what they believe is true."

 

"And after that point?"

 

"'What's real is real,' Harold. Those were your words, I believe."

 

"Well, I sure would like to hear your words, God. Like this thing about what goes on up here."

 

"Use the brain I gave you. There are inconsistencies in what humans believe of this just as there are--as you have pointed out so candidly these last few nights--inconsistencies in other aspects of human thought and belief."

 

"Yeah, okay, but I gotta be honest with you, God. I never could see the logic of going through the whole life thing if everything's going to be so different in heaven. Like I said before, I don't think heaven is about reward or punishment. I figure you made us good or you made us bad, and the rest is just playing it out. And if we're just playing it out, what sense does reward or punishment make?"

 

"What about 'free will'?"

 

"Well, most of us don't know what free will really means. I mean, if, as they tell us, we gotta give you credit for all the good, then the only free will we have is to do bad. Or refrain from doing bad. There are temptations all over the place that both strong people and weak people face, and even the strong have to give in sometimes else they'd go nuts."

 

"You don't think temptation tests character?"

 

"Maybe for some people it does, but for most of us, it's just another monkey wrench thrown into the gear box of an already tough life. I mean, why put a giant ice cream cone in front of a kid then tell him you're gonna burn his butt if he touches it? We have psychiatrists who make up names for people like that."

 

"You think I should see a shrink, Harold?"

 

"Hey, no way, God. It's just I don't believe this is you; I don't believe you would do that. I mean, telling a guy he has free will then tossing him into the furnace if he chooses anything other then the choice-of-the-day doesn't strike me as free anything. He's got no real choice at all."

 

"The guys with the funny eyes again?"

 

"You got it, big guy--eh, is it okay for me to call you that, God?"

 

(sigh) "I've heard worse."

 

"Well, anyway, I don't think you'd stick a temptation in our face then sit back and watch to see if we give in to it. I mean, what purpose would that serve? It's not even fair. You put somebody else's food in front of a guy whose stomach is full and chances are he's not going to steal it. Do the same for a hungry guy and the temptation there is greater, maybe more than he can take. People do bad for a lot of reasons, some of it understandable and some not so understandable. Some give in to the heat of passion, their emotions temporarily getting the most of them. Now, I know they all gotta be dealt with, but I don't see you in there torturing them with even more temptation; I don't think you're that kind of guy."

 

"'Guy,' Harold?"

 

"Yeah, you know, a tormentor. That's gotta be the guys I've been talking about saying that."

 

"You feel temptation has no place in the world of humans?"

 

"Well, I don't know about that; I just don't agree with making it out to be some kind of holy test."

 

"I see."

 

"I guess in real life, it's always gonna be there, but it sure can make you unhappy at times."

 

"It always makes you unhappy?"

 

"Well, not always. Sometimes it makes me unhappy when I don't give in, like when I put a girl to bed then decide to be a good guy and go home. Other times it gives me a boost."

 

"How so?"

 

"Well, like when I find somebody's wallet and give it back to him."

 

"Don't you feel there is meaning in that?"

 

"Yeah, it means I don't need the money. But I got friends who need it real bad, and they might feel like ... eh feces ... but they won't give it back. Now, I don't agree with that kind of thinking, but then it's easier for me. As I say, I don't need the cash."

 

"Why have you forsaken me, Harold?"

 

"How's that, God?"

 

(sigh) Just another God joke, Harold. You have anything else you want to discuss?"

 

"I shortened my list, God."

 

"Yes, I peeked at your thoughts last night. But the questions you struck are still in your mind, and there is no reason to be ashamed of them."

 

"Hey, I'm glad you said that, God. I mean, it's not that I'm evil or anything like that; it's just I got a lot of doubts. And it's the people going around telling me they have the only answers worth talking about that give me these doubts."

 

"Do you find any of what people say 'worth talking about'?"

 

"Hard for me to believe any of it when they keep coming up with stuff that can only fly when a person is afraid to call them on it. And I think they know that's not going to happen with most of their flock--the superstition thing again, fear of punishment."

 

"But you are not afraid?"

 

"Well, since I don't know what the real skinny is, I'm not all that comfortable. But I figured you and me are buddies and can talk it out, right?"

 

"Go on, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I'd appreciate time to get into my asbestos suit if you change your mind."

 

"Harold."

 

"Just kidding, God."

 

"Go on, please."

 

"Yeah, right. Well, getting back to these contradictory religions going on all at the same time. A lot of them have their 'documented eyewitnesses'--sightings in Lourdes, sightings of Mohammed riding up to heaven on a horse, that kind of thing. Since a lot of them contradict one another, how can they all be fact? Logic says a lot of people are seeing things that aren't there."

 

"If such beliefs bring comfort to someone, can they be so wrong?"

 

"Depends on how a guy carries out his beliefs. If he keeps it to himself, I got no problem with it. If he tries to throw it in my face, I got a lot of problems with it."

 

"The contradictions, you mean."

 

"Yeah, and the way he tries to force his ideas on me, either forcefully or subtly--a word here or there, a knowing smile. I say, don't come yelling to me--oh, you can, of course, God. Anyway, don't tell me what's going to happen if I don't jump on this or that narrow little bandwagon unless you can also explain how all you guys can be right at the same time. Me, I think you should put your faith to a test now and then, I mean a real test not something believers like to make up so they can feel better about what they want to believe in the first place? You do that, you have faith in something real."

 

"As you do?"

 

"Well, that's just it; I don't know what to have faith in, God. I just know that what others think I should believe doesn't hold up under close examination."

 

"I don't hold up under close examination?"

 

"You do; they don't. At least I think you do--it would help, God, if you told me what this was all about."

 

"Me? Heaven? What?"

 

"All of the above. What do we have now that's better than what we had before we were born--we don't even know what we had then? Why are we here and where are we headed? Running around for all eternity giving thanks and singing hymns doesn't strike me as an end game in itself."

 

"Is this an end run, Harold, a way to get the answer you failed to get earlier?"

 

"I'm still hurting, God. I'd hurt less if I knew."

 

"I will go this far, Harold: I am here because you say I'm here."

 

"But what if I say you're not? What would be the sense of all this then?"

 

"The sense would be what you then make of it."

 

"I don't follow, God."

 

"You say you want to know, to make sense of it all. Don't you think this is happening?"

 

"I still don't follow."

 

"What do you know now that you did not know ten thousand years ago?"

 

"Well, heck, ten thousand years covers a lot of territory."

 

"So does the answer."

 

"You mean what mankind has learned since then?"

 

"Is the Earth still flat? Does the universe revolve around the Earth? Is an eclipse still evidence of a god's displeasure?"

 

"I see what you mean, but that's not exactly what I was hoping for."

 

"But are these not answers? However slowly, are you not learning?"

 

"Boy, 'slowly' is the key word there, God. At this rate, I'll be long gone before I get to know what I should do in life--about religion, I mean."

 

"And you think that, if you guess wrong, I will ... singe your butt."

 

"Well, it would help if I knew where you kept the matches--just kidding again, God. I'm not exactly encouraging the old heat treatment, but since you brought up the subject, I wouldn't mind knowing what to do to avoid it. That is, if it's true that you would do such a horrible thing to a great person like me, which I don't think you would."

 

"Even among your 'funny-eyes' people, there are as many opinions as there are members of their widely-diverse groups. By your logic, I would have to singe every one of them. Except, that is, for that fortunate individual who happened to get it all right--assuming he or she exists."

 

"Hey, I hear you, God. And I don't mind telling you, that makes me feel a whole lot better. But, eh, if you change your mind, I know a few guys who should be way up there on your butt-burning list."

 

"Thank you, Harold. Your opinion means so much to me."

 

 

 

 

 

 

ELEVEN:

Could I get a second opinion?

 

 

I knew what he was doing. He was making me think, and at the same time telling me it's okay to do that, that he won't cut me off in mid-sentence with a well-aimed lightning bolt. But that 'ten thousand years thing,' that really set me off. What it tells me is that we either have to be patient big-time or come up with answers on our own--like discovering that the world is round, that kind of stuff. It also tells me that we shouldn't get so upset with the guys who think they already have them, the answers, I mean. In time, they're gonna know the truth, and then whatever's left of their faces will be a neat shade of red.

 

When I look back, I see a lot of things that used to be really scary to mankind. Scary because we didn't know enough about them; they were the mysterious "unknown." But each thing we discovered drove another of these unknowns into the trash bin and brought back in its place a little hope that there really is an explanation for everything, that we don't have to keep making up stuff that never pans out. God is right; we're not afraid of eclipses any more because we finally learned what causes them. It wasn't the gods giving us a "sign" or telling us we're about to be bombarded with misery. It was just the Earth or the moon getting in the way of the sun--I wonder how many non-believers were put to death for failing to go along with what the priests of that day were telling them?

 

Makes me wonder though, what kind of natural phenomenon encouraged the creation of the sex goddess, Astarte. Now there's a group of thinkers!

 

I wonder what this tells us about space. Space that never ends and warps around in such a way that time becomes something we only think we know about? That one is still scary, scary enough for the funny-eyes guys to make up a new religion about it. (I bet they will. Maybe make Elvis Presley the chief god.)

 

We now know about evolution; how we got to look like we do is no big secret any more. So the part of religion that tries to say otherwise can be flushed down the john, as we flushed away the part that told us all the wrong things about eclipses. We also know how to create life--now that was something I'll bet we never thought we'd get a handle on. It's based on a natural chemical process. A little ammonia, the right kind of atmosphere, maybe a little electricity, throw in a few acids and stuff like that--I'll bet that's how God did it."

 

"Tread carefully there, Harold."

 

"Huh? Oh yeah, God, I always do. I mean safe sex and all that."

 

(sigh)

 

Anyway, we can create a baby without too much sweat, even in a laboratory. Grab an egg, fertilize it and you got a brand new life. Of course, you have to put it in a lady to keep it going, but we would be some kind of short-sighted to believe that's anything but a temporary limitation. (I'm not sure I like the idea, but the point is, it is possible.) You can even get more than one baby, I mean through the use of hormones and stuff like that. Now some say that's playing God, but I say no. You gotta think these things through. I mean you go yelling stuff like 'playing God' and you're repeating the mistakes of yesterday, where that particular brand was stamped on just about anything that had a forward look to it. It also runs up against the bit about God guiding us all our lives--maybe his real intent is for us to move ahead, use the brains he gave us. Is flying playing God? Is putting up a dam to slow down floods playing God? I don't see him complaining all that much about those kind of things.

 

"Your beliefs and the restrictions you place upon yourselves as a result, will change as you learn more and more about yourself and your environment. What you believe at the present, by definition, will always be incomplete."

 

"Yeah, I can see that happening, God. But, eh, what would you call 'complete'?"

 

"Nice try, Harold. In time mankind will know the answer to that, but it is you who must get you there."

 

"Without your guidance, God?"

 

"Do not confuse guidance with answers, Harold. They are mutually exclusive. However, one can lead to the other."

 

"So you are guiding us?"

 

"In time, Harold, in time."

 

Guided or not, it still looks like much of what we develop for ourselves is going to involve blood, toil tears and sweat--I think Julius Caesar said that. Or maybe Elvis. Anyway, what it says is, what we think we know today we're gonna have to think more about tomorrow. And even more the day after that. No sweat on that, although I still think it's taking too long to get the answers. Upsetting a heck of a lot of people along the way too. Me, I'd rather get right to the last chapter, find out how the plot ends--at least, I think I would; I gotta admit, the thought scares me some.

 

All through recorded history we've had "playing-God" guys saying we'll never do this or we'll never do that--"man will never fly;" "nothing will ever replace the horse;" "man will never walk on the moon." They're always wrong but that doesn't stop them from coming up with yet another thing that "man will never do." Some say we'll never learn to control the weather, but not me. Even today we know how to make an Earth out of Mars--terraforming, they call it. With today's technology, it would take hundreds of years and cost more money than we want to spend, but it is possible to coax water and an atmosphere (and thus weather) out of Martian rocks, make it look like an early Earth. Someday this terraforming will be faster and cheaper and then I think we're going to do it. And I don't think that's playing the big guy or anything like that. I don't even think he'll be pissed at us for giving it a try.

 

"Depends on what you make of it, Harold."

 

"Eh, good point, God. I'll tell the others--I mean, if you let me live long enough."

 

"You want me to keep you alive for three hundred years?"

 

"Well, I'm hoping it'll take less than that as we learn more about how to do it."

 

"Then you only want me to keep you alive for an additional hundred years?"

 

"Well, to be honest, God, it's a little scary putting a time limit on this, my life, I mean. Couldn't we sorta play it by ear?"

 

"Don't tempt me, Harold."

 

Anyway, we now know about the Milky Way galaxy, and how we're just a tiny speck way out on one of its spiral arms--hardly the center of anything. And that there are billions of other galaxies, each one with billions of suns and maybe tens of billions of planets as well. That means the funny-eyes guys who wanted to kill Galileo for stating the facts can no longer hold their heads up--well, they can't anyway; they're dead, but if they were alive, even the funny-eyes guys of today would laugh at them. Wouldn't stop them from coming up with stuff that others are going to laugh about tomorrow, though.

 

I figured this would be a good one to lay on God next.

 

"Hey, God, I read where all of this is for the benefit of mankind. Is that true?"

 

"All of what?"

 

"All of this. The universe, the animals, the galaxies bumping into one another, everything."

 

"I think that what you would really like to do, Harold, is tell me what you think."

 

"Well, I wouldn't mind a second opinion."

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, well the way I figure it, with everything that we now know is out there, and with so much more that we're pretty sure we're gonna find out about later on--which, hopefully, won't take another ten thousand years..."

 

"Harold!"

 

"Well, what I'm wondering is, how can we believe this is all for us? How can we see galaxies crashing into each other billions of light years away and think that it's all for us?"

 

"Who said it was?"

 

"Well, we did. I mean, we sorta got together and decided that we're king of the hill, that everything else is secondary, put there just for the magnificent us."

 

"One more assumption you imagine to be true?"

 

"That's my point! We make up these things and think because we see a lot of heads nodding in agreement, that it can't be wrong."

 

"As I say, Harold, human nature."

 

"Yeah, but if it no longer makes sense, why hold onto it? I mean, we now know a lot more about what the universe is about. We found a hint of life on Mars, on one of the moons of Jupiter and even in a little crater on our own moon (they discovered ice in a spot that the sun never touches). That's a lot of hits in our solar system alone, God. And there are a billion, billion solar systems out there."

 

"Really, Harold?"

 

"Ha! I guess I'm not telling you anything. But that's a good point, God. Couldn't you ... eh ... let me in on what's out there, what kind of life, I mean?"

 

"In time, Harold. In time."

 

"Yeah, but what if some space guys pop down out of the sky and tell us we got it all wrong, that the truth is it was all put there for them, including us--can happen any day, you know, God?"

 

"I am certainly glad you warned me of that possibility, Harold."

 

"Ha again! Sorry, big guy; I wasn't thinking. But shouldn't we prepare ourselves? I mean, a little hint from you and we can do something about it."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Well, like... Good question; I don't know what we'd do. Maybe we'd smarten up a little, be in better shape to greet them; that wouldn't hurt."

 

"No, Harold, that wouldn't hurt."

 

"Well anyway, what kind of sense does it make to say its all for us? Take the dinosaurs, for example. We never even got to meet them; how can they be for us?"

 

"A failed experiment?"

 

"Yeah, well they say that's not possible, that you can't fail."

 

"But 'they' also say it all leads to you, including dinosaurs that were gone millions of years before your species began."

 

"Yeah, God, but I figure they're wrong about that."

 

"Now why doesn't that surprise me!"

 

"Aw, you're just putting me on. How could it surprise you, you being God and all?"

 

"Figure of speech, Harold. Go on."

 

"Well, I figure it couldn't be. When the dinosaurs died we looked like mice, and that runs up against that in-your-image thing."

 

"You make no mention of humility, Harold. Or in this case, the absence thereof."

 

"You mean that we just proclaimed ourselves to be the reason for everything?"

 

"Don't you see a certain arrogance in that?"

 

"I do, God, but I don't know many guys who would agree with me."

 

"Does being a minority of one disturb you?"

 

"Well, it makes me lonely sometimes."

 

"Do you think it also makes you wrong?"

 

"Does it, God?"

 

"How many people believed the world was round before Columbus? Close to one hundred percent--I do remember such things, you know."

 

"Boy don't I know that. You'd be a great one to have on Jeopardy."

 

"And how much of Earth's population can any one faith claim?"

 

"I don't exactly follow that, God."

 

"Your own words, Harold. You state that the world as a whole is not in agreement with any one religion. But it goes beyond that; no single religion commands even a majority of the world's population. Thus regardless of the belief, more people disagree than agree. Even if that were not the case, even if one did have a majority, and even if that voice represented ninety-nine point nine percent of the entire human race, would that make them right?"

 

"I can see them hitching up their belts, puffing out their chests, throwing smug smiles at each other and saying, 'it sure as hell does.'"

 

"Well it sure as hell does not, Harold, any more than the ninety-nine point nine percent who were absolutely certain Columbus was wrong--or are you still inclined to regard the world as flat?"

 

"You're saying numbers don't count, God?"

 

"Sometimes they do, Harold. In this case, they do not. Truth is truth, regardless of how many people see it or fail to see it."

 

"I saw a movie once where a priest tried to prove his point by asking a non-believing scientist, 'Do you think 95% of the world is delusional'?"

 

"The '95%' is no argument at all, any more than it was with Columbus--the numbers thing again. Beyond that, the statement assumes this 95% to be in agreement with one another. Is a Christian in agreement with a Jew? Is a Buddhist in agreement with a Moslem? Surrendering to the definition inferred by the question, wouldn't any one of these groups consider all the others 'delusional'?"

 

"I hear you, God. I just wish all of us, regardless of what we believe at the moment, knew more of what the truth was."

 

"It would make for a dull world, Harold."

 

"I could use a little 'dull' right now, God. I gotta tell you, I'm getting tired."

 

(sigh) "I am too, Harold. I am too."

 

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I accepted it as a sign that he wanted to call it a night. So I woke up, by myself this time. I hope he wasn't insulted or anything. You know, like he thought I was cutting him off. I made a mental note to set him straight tomorrow night. If he's still there, that is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWELVE:

Are you mad at us for inventing it?

 

 

He was, but I gotta tell you I spent a lot of time worrying about that. I was really getting to like these nightly sessions and I didn't know what I'd do if the big guy cut them short. I figured we were getting to be real buddies, even if he had to remind me from time to time that it wasn't exactly on an equal footing.

 

Recalling how serious we both were the previous night, I decided to start with something light.

 

"Hey, God, about this virgin birth thing."

 

(sigh)

 

"Well, I figured it out. Where it came from, I mean."

 

"Oh, do tell me, Harold."

 

"Hey, no sweat, God, I like doing this. I mean, I was thinking after our talk last night about you and me being some kind of buddies."

 

"Buddies?"

 

"Yeah, everybody needs someone to talk to. You know, someone who can challenge you, keep you on your celestial toes."

 

"Are you applying for the job, Harold?"

 

"Hey, who better--just kidding, God."

 

(sigh)

 

"But anyway, this virgin birth thing, I read about how it might have come about."

 

"And you don't think I know."

 

"Well, maybe not this version. You see, it's not exactly something they sing about in church."

 

"Go on, Harold."

 

"Well the ancient Jews used to require that a newly married couple stay away from knookie for the first year or so, to show how pious they were, I guess."

 

"And when the girl became pregnant, the elders would throw up their hands and say, 'must be a virgin birth.' I heard that one, Harold."

 

"Well, don't you think it's funny, God?"

 

(sigh) "There is humor in the way it is put."

 

"Yeah, I hear you. I guess you don't get to listen to many jokes--there was a priest and a rabbi, that kind of stuff. Well, I guess you listen, but you get to the punch line faster than the guy who's telling it."

 

"Partying is not my thing, Harold."

 

"Well, let me try this: I went to a wedding once where your guy says you led the bride and the groom through their entire lives to this magic moment. And he said this even though it was the second marriage for both of them--I gotta believe the same thing was said by the priest's colleagues at the first marriage ceremonies. Me I think you should singe his butt for suggesting you would lead a person through his whole life just to have him arrive at a bad marriage."

 

"Now that is funny, Harold."

 

"Yeah? To be honest, God, I wasn't sure you were going to see the humor."

 

"I believe you know the word, 'sarcasm,' Harold?"

 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, God. But I got a lot of that kind of thing going."

 

"Which you feel compelled to relate to me?"

 

"Hey, I got no need to be 'compelled.' I figure you want to know. And I figure you want to help me understand."

 

"My life's dream, Harold."

 

"Come again, God?"

 

"More God sarcasm, Harold."

 

"Oh, yeah, sure. Okay, how's this one? When people see something they can't explain, like the Hubble telescope telling us the lights of the universe probably turned on all at once, they say that proves it was God's doing; you know, the 'let there be light' thing?"

 

"I'm vaguely familiar with the phrase, Harold."

 

"Yeah, right. You're the guy that said it."

 

(sigh) "Go on, Harold."

 

"Well, maybe hundreds of years from now, when we finally find out the truth about how and why it happened that way, the clones of these people are gonna shrug as if it's no big deal then go right on making the same kind of claims."

 

"What is your question, Harold?"

 

"Well, why don't you make people like that learn from the mistakes of the past? I mean, as near as I can figure, they've always been wrong. Eventually we find a good solid reason for everything, and it never has anything to do with religion."

 

"It goes back to what people want to believe, Harold. If facts fly in the face of these beliefs, they alter or abandon the facts. I have seen you do the same."

 

"Me, God?"

 

"You, Harold."

 

"Well, I can't remember doing anything like that, God--not that I would doubt you or anything. I mean, I try to call things as I see them."

 

"The key words there, Harold, are 'as you see them.' You place interpretations on matters that differ from what others place on the same matter. Are they correct or are you correct? And if ten people are faced with the same matter and make the same attempt to reason it out, do you doubt that ten separate interpretations--perhaps all of them sincere--could come of it? Truth is as one sees it, Harold, as one wishes it to be."

 

"But then, who is wrong?"

 

"That person is wrong who acts against his conscience, who does what in his heart he knows is less than credible."

 

"I've seen a lot of that, God. Guys laying it onto gullible believers, making them think they're some kind of evil if they don't cough up enough money."

 

"But what you do not know is what that 'funny-eyed' person admits to his subconscious those few times that it breaks through to him. He may, on the surface, see himself only in the best light, but at night when he cannot sleep and when disturbing thoughts keep racing through his head whether he wishes this or not, for a brief moment only he might see himself as others see him, as I see him. If he ignores this, I would then regard him as ... less than credible."

 

"Like the minister guys who say you want them to have a big house or a big car."

 

"Less than credible."

 

I liked what I was hearing; it gave me hope. I realized once again that God was giving me more answers than I realized he was giving (that may not sound so good, but you know what I mean).

 

I knew he wanted me to think about that 'less than credible' thing, but even so, it was hard to put aside the resentment I felt. I mean, I've heard so many things that haven't been thought through; I mean, really thought through. Look at the case of the biggies in the Christian religion who used to insist that genesis began at 4004 BC. I mean, this was required belief--they'd do nasty things to you if you said you disagreed. I always assumed they really believed that this was true, but whether they did or not is less important than the fact that they were dead wrong. And if they were so absolutely sure of this yet were so absolutely wrong, why should I believe them now? I mean, they present today's "undeniable truths" as vigorously as they presented yesterday's "undeniable truths"--doesn't that qualify for "less than credible?" Me, I think God should get on their cases, give them a front row seat to his flame-throwing act before they add to what is already a big enough pile of human misery.

 

I wonder why we're so quick to believe what came out of the past anyway. We wouldn't believe so quickly if it happened today, not for a lot of it we wouldn't. Like you see a guy stabbing his kid to death today, you're not going to let him get away with saying "God told me to do it; he was testing my loyalty." Heck no; you're gonna toss him in the nut hatch.

 

We put a heck of a lot of stock in a time when mankind was highly superstitious and badly informed. I mean, those guys were far-out in some of the things they believed. How can we accept as truth anything that came out of that period, let alone base the future of mankind on it?

 

"You can not ignore all of the past, Harold."

 

"Well, maybe not, God, but couldn't we be more selective? I mean, couldn't we go for more than 'hope' in what we embrace from those times?"

 

"Hope is a powerful motivator, Harold. Would you want mankind to be without it? Would you want to be without it?"

 

"Yeah, I hear you, God. I just got a problem associating all that with truth. Some guys seize on hope as a substitute for truth, as if wanting something bad enough makes it true."

 

"That statement is valid as you put it, Harold, but it hints at you being the arbiter of truth. You are not. None of you are."

 

"But I would like to be, God. I mean, that's what I'm hoping to get out of these sessions."

 

"'Hoping', Harold."

 

"Well, maybe that's a bad choice of words, God, but I gotta say, I'll be the first to give up my old beliefs and grab hold of the new if you'll just tell me what that 'new' should be."

 

"Better put, Harold, but my answer in this is the same as the one I gave you on a previous occasion. Truth to humans is relative and fleeting. To fill you with truth now would be like filling a sieve with water--a frustrating experience at best. Better is to wait until you as a species are able to contain it."

 

"When will that be, God?"

 

"The 'when' is completely up to you, Harold."

 

"More stuff I gotta think through, right?"

 

"You got it, Harold."

 

I know what he's saying, that we're stuck with what we are, at least for awhile, but even so, I think some of us are too far out of touch with the times. They gotta be holding back the "when" that God was talking about. Like the heavy believers who see other heavy believers bleeding out of their hands and feet at Easter time. Most of the high-ranking Christians understand this to be a mental condition--spontaneous emission, psychosomatic something or other--but there are a lot of people out there who still accept this as proof of something. Like of all the ways God has of communicating with us, he chooses bleeding hands and feet. I mean, that says Radio Shack is more up to date than the big guy.

 

"They are comfortable in their beliefs, Harold. Why can't you just accept that?"

 

"Well, God, I think the guy doing the bleeding needs help. I mean, the kind of help you get from a shrink."

 

"Your opinion, Harold, not theirs."

 

"But who's right?"

 

"Is being right so important?"

 

There was another message there that my buddy, God, was trying to get through to me. I knew this, and it was enough to get me to zip up my lip--at least for the moment. I guess "being right" is an ego thing, and me trying to attach nobility to it is hypocritical at best. I wind up being as questionable as the guys I've been complaining about.

 

Still, I can't believe these heavy believers really think the bleeding hands and feet stuff carries much weight among Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, Hindus or any other of the world's many religions. Or even among most Christians, for that matter.

 

As you can see by what follows, I had trouble conceding the point:

 

"You know, God, even when everybody knows the real skinny of something, they still practice something else. Like celebrating Christ's birthday on December 25 even though a lot of religious scholars think he was born in July or August."

 

"Time of the winter solstice, Harold. There was already a celebration around that time, and the Christians of the day felt it appropriate to attach their own celebration to it. Makes sense when you think about it."

 

"But doesn't it matter that the celebration they were attaching themselves to was a pagan one?"

 

"No, Harold, it does not. Not for what I just said. Besides, pagan to whom? Certainly not to the people engaged in the practice of whatever religion you choose to label as 'pagan.'"

 

"Pagan meaning nobody believes that stuff anymore."

 

"Not exactly true, but that has little relevance to anything. It presses you up against that numbers thing again: The number of people believing in something--or no longer believing in something--has no bearing on whether that something has truth attached to it."

 

"Okay, but my initial point was, they know the truth but they're still pushing the wrong date."

 

"When you in America celebrate President's Day, are you saying that this is the day when all former United States presidents were born? Of course not; you have singled out this day for reasons of convenience. What is so wrong with Christians doing the same thing?"

 

"So they're right in what they do?"

 

"Put that question to a Hindu or to a Moslem. No, I am not addressing validity of belief at all. I am explaining behavior, human behavior. What you people believe and how you carry out these beliefs is up to you."

 

"Even if we're wrong?"

 

"Even if you're wrong."

 

I knew he was right, but it still got to me. I mean, what good is believing in anything if you don't know the real skinny and there's a better than reasonable chance that you're wrong?

 

I don't know, maybe I see too much conflict out there, too much that people are trying to hide from themselves or cover over with convenient words that by unspoken agreement they elect not to question.

 

I'm not saying these people are hypocritical or anything like that, just that they don't listen to their own words. At least they don't think them through. A while back I heard a friend make an unflattering remark about "idol worshipers" while he was on his knees talking to a statue hanging on the wall. And another guy spoke of how the early Christians waited a bunch of years before putting the gospel down in writing, this because they wanted to be really, really sure of their facts. Me, I saw in that the old problem of whispering down the lane. You know, where a bunch of people are in a circle and one guy whispers a joke to the guy on his right, who then whispers the same joke to the guy on his right and so on. When finally it gets around to the guy who told it, it isn't even close to being the same joke.

 

I thought that might be a good one to spring on God. He likes a good challenge.

 

"Madison Avenue approach, Harold. You take your biggest disadvantage and advertise it as an advantage. Remember the old Listerine commercials: 'If is doesn't taste bad, how do you know it's working'?"

 

He frowned as he said that, so I figured he must've tasted the stuff at least once. Either that or he was reminded of how silly we humans can be at times.

 

Anyway, it didn't prove to be much of a challenge to him.

 

But it did get me to thinking that he was tiring of my questions, so I cut the list down even more. Problem is, every time I do that, it leaves a gap in my hopes (maybe I should say "expectations)." I mean, it's one more thing I know I'll never get the answer to. But then, if I get to the point where I wear out my welcome, what answers would I get then? I'd have to go back to the guys with the funny eyes and smile like I'm buying what they say. God, I hate the thought of doing that!

 

"Were you talking to me, Harold?"

 

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess I was. Sorta, anyway."

 

"I understand, Harold. And now you have a question about black holes."

 

"Hey, you're really good at that mind-reading stuff. Well, what I was wondering was whether you have to watch out for black holes as you make your rounds of the cosmos checking up on things? You know even light gets sucked into black holes."

 

"The gravitational pull of 'black holes' is of no concern to me, Harold."

 

"Really? But doesn't that say you're lighter than light? I mean, light has mass so it gets pulled into the black hole. If you don't get pulled in, then you gotta have less mass than light. And then I gotta wonder how something with so little mass can create all this mass."

 

"Boggles the mind, doesn't it, Harold?"

 

"Boy, you got that right. You ever going to tell us how you do that, God?"

 

"When you are capable of understanding it, perhaps."

 

"You don't think I'm there now?"

 

"Your sense of humor is poking through again, Harold."

 

"Eh, yeah, God, I see what you're saying. At least I think I do. Well anyway, here's another one for you. Why didn't you make our bodies so all the parts wear out evenly? I mean, my prostate is quitting more each day; just talking about it makes me want to head for the john--eh, you have johns up here, God?"

 

"You went from black holes to this?"

 

"One sorta reminds me of the other."

 

(sigh)

 

"It also reminds me of everyday people, which reminds me of how many of them there are. Everybody says only you can create children, but I think you got some of your supervisors going here. I mean, you gotta get these guys talking to each other, God, they're creating too many of them! And it's out of proportion to anything that makes sense--too many kids going to people who can't manage the kids they got; whole countries, usually poor countries where kids are already piling up like lemmings, getting hit hard, really hard. It makes for a whole lot of misery, God."

 

"When there are more floods than you wish to endure, what do you do?"

 

"You mean build a dam?"

 

"Precisely. If this is, as you suggest, a flood, you have the means to do something about it."

 

"You're saying it's not the fault of your supervisors? That you're sorta goading us into action?"

 

"Reflect on it for a time, Harold."

 

"Yeah, that's cool, God. But it would be so much easier if we had a little of the old clarification going here. I mean, there's a whole pile of thought on this subject and a whole lot of disagreement, some of it pretty violent. As long as it goes on, the problem's going to get worse."

 

"Once again, Harold: It is all up to you."

 

(sigh) Well, we are learning more about how the thing works, this life creation process, I mean. Today we have science that allows us to connect sperm to an egg in a test tube--if we do it, we get a baby; if we don't we don't. Is that how you go about it?"

 

"Except for the test tube. That is your invention."

 

"Well, are you mad at us for inventing it?"

 

"It depends on what use you make of it, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well they say children are a gift from you, God, that we should just wait around and see what you want to do about it."

 

"What do you think, Harold."

 

"Well, I think they got it wrong, God. I mean, I can't see you running down to some city slum and making a little thirteen-year-old girl pregnant. I mean, why would you do such a thing--yeah, I know what they say about you working in mysterious ways, but me, I think that's just backfilling, something people lean on when they run out of argument."

 

"When faced with logic such as yours, you mean."

 

"Well, I gotta admit, God, it sounds pretty good to me. But I think a few guidelines from you would keep people from going off the deep end in your name."

 

"Form your own guidelines, Harold. In time you will know my reaction to them."

 

"Yeah, well, that's a little risky, God. Scary even, if you know what I mean."

 

"Harold, you are too wrapped up in this 'burn your butt' thing. Spend more time in thinking and less in believing."

 

"I'll have to think about that one, God."

 

"Touché, Harold. Your next point, please."

 

"Eh sure, God. It's related; it's about abortions. You talk about scary; even I feel sorry for the funny-eyes guys on this. I mean, they're scared to death about what you might think here. Some of them are ready to kill to prove they're more right-to-life than the next guy."

 

"And the opposing side has no such inclinations?"

 

"Well, maybe we got crazies on both sides, God. But..."

 

"'Maybe,' Harold?"

 

"Yeah, well I guess there are a few who argue the point because they don't like the guys arguing the other side, but..."

 

"But you don't regard such people in quite the same light as you do the 'right-to-lifers'?"

 

"Hey, I don't like any kind of crazies; doesn't matter what side they're on. But that's exactly my point. These guys--okay, on both sides--are coming down on each other harder and harder every day. It's only a matter of time before they start inflicting pain on innocent people just to demonstrate how much better their point of view is than the other guy's. They, and the rest of us, could use a little help here, God. Help from you. You know, give us the real skinny; let us know how you see it. There are a lot of people who don't deserve the hardship they're getting on this, God."

 

"The dam analogy again, Harold. Why not assume that the rapid growth of the world's population is a flood, put there by me to provoke your collective minds into devising a solution?"

 

"Or solutions? More than one, I mean?"

 

"That is for you to decide, Harold."

 

"I gotta tell you, God, a dam is a lot easier to bring about."

 

"Life is not easy, Harold."

 

"Hey, tell me about it. But on this subject, whenever somebody comes up with a plan, other people jump all over it."

 

"To them, it is not a good plan."

 

"That's my point, God. With so many people already here, and so many more on the way, even if we do something modest to slow it down, there's going to be somebody somewhere who will find what we do offensive. And, if the result is that we always back down, nothing will ever get done. We'll have to wait for a major disease, or a mass starvation, or a gigantic war, something that will squash enough of us to give the others a little breathing room."

 

"An act of me?"

 

"Hey, no offense, but we sure as heck can't count on anyone from Earth. There aren't any leaders down here, God. At least nobody who's willing to risk his popularity or his job. We need the big guy--you--to sort it out. I mean, it wouldn't take much of your time--you could take Sundays off. And we'd give you all the help we could. Money too, if you're a little short--heck, we'll just add it to the deficit."

 

He smiled at that last part, but I wasn't sure what it meant. Probably meant the same thing he's been saying all along, that he wants us to figure it out for ourselves.

 

The problem I have with that is it says me and my Earth buddies are in for a painful ride, maybe even a fatal one, fatal for all of us as more and more people are chasing less and less resources--those who don't get them aren't going to like those who do. You look back in history and you see a lot of cases of the have-nots wreaking havoc on the haves once they get big enough or mad enough to do it. It never helps anything or anybody, but they don't think about that when they're hurting. A lot of them aren't all that smart; they're easily led by others. I mean, if they knew more, they might not be one of the have-nots.

 

That's another thing to ask the big guy. I mean, why he doesn't educate humanity a lot more. It would keep them from coming up with back-yard opinions on how to solve the world's problems.

 

"I'll start with you, Harold."

 

Ha! At least I think he meant that as a joke. Anyway, speaking of back-yard opinions, somebody once suggested we use the excess population of the world to colonize space. I jumped all over that, thinking it was a really good idea, but then another somebody pointed out that the numbers don't jive. He said, if you had giant spaceships, each able to carrying ten thousand people, and you launched one of these spaceships every hour of every day of every year, you would not even be able to keep up with the increase in the world's population. Not exactly a great solution, and definitely not something we're about to go out and do. I mean, we're a long way from being able to send up even one of those things--even if we knew where to send it. And long before we find out how to colonize space, the population of the world will be such that we'll be left with standing room only. There won't even be enough space left to build the ships.

 

Thinking back on the smile God gave me when we parted, there was a lot of sadness attached to it. Trying to understand what that meant keep me up the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTEEN:

You ever bet on a football game?

 

 

"Hey, God, I got one on sports. But first I gotta ask you a question. And I don't mean any offense by it."

 

"Now, how could I ever think that of you, Harold?"

 

"Yeah, I guess I do get a little close now and then. But this one I think is okay: Do you ever bet on a football game?"

 

"What?!"

 

"Hey, I don't think you do, God, I'm just demonstrating my point."

 

(sigh) "Go on, Harold."

 

"And I gotta assume you don't cheat, giving one side an advantage over the other."

 

"Cheat, Harold?!"

 

"Like I said, God, just leading up to my point."

 

"How much more 'leading up' are you intending, Harold? I'm feeling a need for rest again."

 

"Yeah, I hear you, God. I mean, It has been a long night and all. And we have been shooting a lotta challenges at each other."

 

(sigh)

 

"Well, here's my point. A guy runs down the field and scores a touchdown, then he kneels down to thank you. In doing that, isn't he saying you pulled a little strings there. And if he thinks that's true, why don't the referees think the same thing? I mean, they should throw a flag or something."

 

"Unsportsmanlike conduct or aiding and abetting?"

 

"Ha! But you get the point, right? I mean, the guy's being insulting to you personally; he's saying you're rigging the game. Why don't you zap his tail for that?"

 

"Harold, if I 'zapped tails' as many times as you suggest, I would run out of lightning bolts. The person you use as an example could be thanking me for helping him to do his best."

 

"But if you don't at the same time help everyone on the opposing team to do his best, that team would be at a disadvantage, a disadvantage they couldn't begin to overcome. That's cheating, God, and I don't think you would do that."

 

"Harold, why can't you accept that this person is merely feeling the moment, and that this feeling prevents him from thinking it through? Let him have his moment; what harm can it do?"

 

"I guess the harm is what it does to others, God. I look at it and I get upset. I just know the majority of people out there are gobbling it up, saying stuff like, 'gee, isn't that nice? He's a good God-fearing person.'"

 

"And that bothers you?"

 

"Yeah, God, I gotta admit it does. I mean, that's what brought on these nightly sessions. I don't like being so much in the minority, but I'm tired of having to go along with people who come up with stuff they don't think through. People who, because they got so many others agreeing with them, just naturally believe they can't be wrong. If I even hint that they got their head in the sand, they just look at me with know-it-all smiles that say, 'Poor Harold; he just doesn't see things the right way, the way we see them.'"

 

"I hear you, Harold. But this is life; this is the nature of humanity. People see safety in numbers. Comfort as well."

 

"But if only I knew the real skinny, I could smile back, make them feel like they've been making me feel all these years."

 

"A little revenge?"

 

"Not that ... well, maybe a little ... yeah, I guess so. But you don't know how it makes me feel when empty-headed people laugh at me."

 

"I don't?"

 

"Well, maybe you do. But they sure as hell don't."

 

"You would rather laugh at them."

 

"Well, it's kinda my turn, God."

 

"It is not a matter of 'turns,' Harold, but I do know how you feel. It is seldom pleasant to be in the minority, and it becomes a serious conflict when the majority opinion is not one to which you can easily relate, even to keep the peace."

 

"It happens so often to me, God, people speaking without thinking, others praising them for it and me having to grin and bear it."

 

A little while ago, I heard of a young couple who spent a lot of time and money getting pregnant, mainly by using man-made chemicals that would release more of the lady's eggs. When she got more kids than she bargained for, which everybody knows is a side effect of the chemicals, she and her husband lifted their eyes to the sky and praised God for this 'miracle.' Then, when the doctors warned them that there were too many little babies in there, they said they would leave whatever happened up to God--who were they leaving it up to when they couldn't get pregnant? Wasn't it their choice to take the fertility chemicals? Then, and this gets to me more than anything, they praised God for delivering them all safely even though there were a bunch of hard working professionals there to make it happen--what kind of fair is it to rob these people of the credit when they broke their butts to get where they are then broke them again to increase the odds for these premature kids?

 

"Irrational exuberance, Harold?"

 

"Was that you who said that, God? I like it!"

 

"Harold, In their minds, they do no wrong. Quite the contrary, they view themselves as more pure than the next person."

 

"But it's a dangerous and confused world down there, God. It only makes things worse when people speak out without thinking through what they're saying. I mean about anything: religion, politics, anything. Look at the Jonestown group. And those people who tried to piggyback a comet by killing themselves. Wouldn't it make better sense to go for truth rather than 'no wrong'?"

 

"I say again, Harold: the truth you seek does not exist. There are only fragments of truth accidentally arrived at as one brushes from belief to belief, opinion to opinion. There are humans who carry this to extreme, and for that I apologize to you and to whomever else might feel negatively affected by their weakness, but there is no magic wand I can wave to make it all go away, to make your world as neat and as unencumbered as you would have it be."

 

(sigh) "I hear you, God, but I gotta tell you, I'm not too happy with that."

 

"I did not expect you would be, Harold."

 

 

 

 

 

FOURTEEN:

You okay with all this 'begetting' stuff?

 

 

The next day was not a pleasant one for me. I felt like I had a hangover, which I guess I did since I started off the day with a couple of beers. I don't know why I did that, except I was a little down and felt the need for a boost. Here I was looking for answers and the biggest answer of all--to what all this means--was shaping up to be something I would never hear.

 

I needed answers, the world needs answers, but what we get instead is more and more people coming up with more and more opinions, some of them really far-out. The number of religions on our little planet is growing, and the people who run them aren't getting any friendlier in how they express themselves.

 

I think God agrees with me about a lot of things, but in this he won't budge. I mean, he won't fill in the blanks and in doing so tell us how we can put aside all the peripheral noise and make the world work for us. Even after all these nights, I don't know any more than anybody else.

 

Yeah, but I do have an advantage: I'm honest with myself, at least in one respect. Unlike some people I know, my frustration has not lead me to see answers where there aren't any. Like in a sky that's gone wild, or in a violent earthquake that makes a guy feel small and vulnerable and lonely, or in creatures that do funny things at times making it easy to believe somebody is trying to tell us something.

 

But what good does it do me; what do I get out of being honest with myself? I'm still doing battle, at least in the privacy of my thoughts. And with the world's problems growing rather than shrinking, I'm still as miserable as I ever was.

 

Whenever I get to feeling this way I begin to retreat back into my shell, tell myself it's better to just go along, accept what I can't change. But I'm tired of doing that. Tired of picking on myself, holding back thoughts that have been fighting for years for a breath of fresh air. Anyway, I don't want to be that kind of person, not any more. I don't want to be seen as accepting something as true just because I and all my friends and neighbors want it to be true. That just leaves me with a sour gut and weakens whatever faith I got left.

 

I felt better by the time I went to bed. I was so tired by then, emotionally as well as physically, that I fell asleep before my eyes were fully closed."

 

"You are early tonight, Harold."

 

"Hey, sorry about that, God. I know how it feels when guests arrive early for a party. You want me to come back later?"

 

(sigh) "Are you feeling better?"

 

"Oh, you know about that, huh? Yeah, I guess you would. Well, I'm having trouble getting things all neatened up in my mind. You know, the way I'd like to."

 

"More doubts?"

 

"Well, questions at least ... yeah, I guess there are doubts in there too. I just can't see things getting better for me or for anybody else. I see us humans continuing on the way we are until the worst of us get so much in control that life won't be worth living anymore."

 

"My, you are down on yourself tonight."

 

"Well, I didn't mean to unload on you, God. I know you got troubles of your own. I guess I'm one of them."

 

"Yes, Harold, you are. But then, so are the rest of you. And with regard to the rest of you, do you suppose for a moment that there are not others with similar complaints, others who are as confused as you profess to be?"

 

"Well, I'd sure like to meet some of them, God. Most of the people I bump into have a lot of faith but not much in the way of ideas."

 

"Faith in weakly supported ideas has little value, Harold."

 

"Amen to that, God! Like the guys who give up everything to join some way-out cult. I mean everything, including their self respect--they don't only give up their money, they give up their wives and daughters as well. 'If this guy says do it, that's good enough for me!' Great thing, faith!"

 

"I'm pleased to see you succumbing to it, Harold."

 

"Ha! You're just saying that to cheer me up, God."

 

"Did it work?"

 

(sigh) "A little, I guess. Anyway, knowing we can't prove what we believe should make us more responsible when we try to paint pictures in other people's heads."

 

"That makes the assumption that the people you speak of are irresponsible. And that they are aware of this. That is cynical at worst and naive at best--you should consider that, to them, you may be the one who is irresponsible."

 

"Me, God?"

 

"Yes, Harold, you. If they believe what they say, and it is likely that most of them are not willing nor able to believe anything other than that, then to them you are simply misguided, stubborn, ignorant, or all of the above. In that respect, they are being honest and consistent and you are being irresponsible."

 

"If both of us are 'honest and consistent,' which one is right?"

 

"You are in your mind and they are in theirs."

 

"I don't follow, God."

 

"It is what I have been saying all along: truth is illusive. Even when you have it, you cannot be sure what it is you have. Nor will others necessarily recognize what you have as truth."

 

"So what good is it?"

 

"Exactly."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Have you any more questions, Harold?"

 

"But..."

 

"Is that a no?"

 

"No. I mean yes. That is, yes I have more questions."

 

"May I hear one?"

 

(sigh) "Okay, God. I guess that's one more thing you want me to think about, right?"

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, well how about ... eh, taboos?"

 

"Forbidden fruit?"

 

"Something like that. I'm talking about things that are forbidden to different religions--not the same to everyone, which is another thing I gotta question. If you're saying we shouldn't touch something, seems to me that would apply to everybody, not just to people of one religion."

 

"Seems to you?"

 

"Well maybe I should make that a question. Why is pork so bad to one religion and not to another? And, at one time, fish not allowed on Fridays for one religion and not another? And sex so bad to a whole bunch of religions--except Astarte, of course; she's pretty cool about that."

 

"It is you who come up with these taboos, Harold. As you are disposed to encourage others to think things through, I suggest you think this through as well. Where and why each such taboo developed, why some were born of logic and sensibility, such as the avoidance of food in which there was a better than reasonable chance of contacting a disease."

 

"Pork?"

 

"Among others."

 

"How about sex? I mean, the 'begetting' stuff we got going from time to time? You know, a lot of that happened in your day too, God."

 

"Really, Harold?"

 

"Hey, it's right there in your book."

 

(sigh)

 

"Yeah, well I figured you were pretty hot on that subject once."

 

"Hot?"

 

"Hey, I didn't mean it that way. I meant angry, that kind of thing. Like what you did to Sodom and Gracie."

 

"Gomorra. And you must practice caution when you attribute such things to me. Seizing on your comments of a few nights back, think of the times; think of the mindset of those who lived in those times, the level of superstition that existed then versus now. From all religions come legends, Harold. If you make them more than that, you do so only to satisfy a personal need to believe."

 

 

 

 

 

 

FIFTEEN:

If there's only enough food on the table for one,

do the others have to say grace?

 

 

We went on a while longer, but I didn't wrestle any more specifics out of my buddy, God. At least not as many as I wanted to--I know he continues to leak answers out, even if I can't figure out what they are. Funny thing, though: as I lay in bed the next morning thinking about it like I know he wants me to, what came to mind first was how come, in all the nights we've been getting together, I didn't have to excuse myself once to visit the john. I mean, my prostate is older than me--at least it acts like it is--and it just isn't like me to go through an entire night without running for the bathroom at least once. You know, I spent a good half hour trying to remember whether I felt the need during our chat, and if so, how I got that little problem solved. I just hope I didn't embarrass myself.

 

I wonder if that is a problem in heaven; God never did answer my question about having johns nearby. I think they're there though--you talk about old prostates; God's been around a really long time.

 

"How do you feel about people saying grace, God?"

 

"That is praying, Harold, something you said you don't believe in."

 

"Yeah, I know, but I was just wondering your take on this particular kind of praying. I always thought of it as odd that a guy would break his ... eh, back ... to put food on the table then thank you for it."

 

"This relates to the football player example, Harold. One fears food will not be as forthcoming the next time unless one shows appreciation for what is present this time."

 

"Yeah okay, but to me, it's one of those things that hasn't been thought through. I mean, they wouldn't dare blame you when the food on the table isn't enough, right?"

 

"You tell me."

 

"Heck no, they wouldn't. I mean, they'd be afraid to, even if they felt in the bottom of their gut that there was some fairness to this--if they say it's you putting food on the table, then they gotta say it's you keeping it off the table."

 

"We have already addressed this, Harold. What appears on the table is a function of how good--or lucky--one is. In this as well as in much of what we've been discussing, responsibility for one's life rests with the individual himself."

 

"For better or for worse?"

 

"For better or for worse."

 

"Well, I guess that answers the other question I had about that."

 

(sigh) "You're going to ask it anyway, aren't you, Harold?"

 

"Well, what I was wondering was, if there are two people at the table and there's only enough food for one, does the other guy have to say grace?"

 

He didn't answer. He didn't even sigh like he sometimes does. But then, in truth, I didn't phrase it as a question; I was just making a joke, trying to cheer him up, get him away from all the heavy subjects we've been tossing around the last few nights.

 

I could see by the rise and fall of the glow that flows around him that he gets emotional about the subject of us; all of us, I mean. You know how it is when you have a favorite toy that goes haywire on you. On second thought, that's not such a good analogy. When you get tired of fussing with a bad toy, you toss it onto the scrap heap.

 

 

 

 

 

SIXTEEN:

If there's no limit to your powers,

why did you have to rest on the seventh day?

 

 

"Eh, God, I got a few quickies you might like to get out of the way."

 

"Good assumption."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Another God joke, Harold. Go on, please."

 

"Well, the first one is just a thing I'm curious about; it isn't Earthshaking like some of my other stuff."

 

"Go on, Harold."

 

"Well, we've been talking about you being everywhere, which I assume means day or night, whenever and wherever one of us is, you're there."

 

"Your point, Harold?"

 

"Well, when a guy goes to a house of worship, he always gets dressed up (Do you have a dress code or are they just guessing at that?)"

 

"Humans like to feel ... presentable ... when they believe they are talking to me."

 

"Yeah, but you're there all the time, when a guy's in the field, when he's working on the engine to his car, even when he's in the john. So what's the difference? He has on an old tee-shirt, then he decides to say something to you so he takes it off and puts on a clean one--before deciding to hear someone, do you check out what he's wearing?"

 

"What are you wearing, Harold?"

 

"Eh, these are my pajamas, God."

 

"I'm talking to you, am I not?"

 

"Yeah, but it wasn't myself I was talking about. I was trying to understand what goes through people's minds at special times in their lives, like when they think they're coming to talk to you."

 

"What do you think before you and I get together?"

 

"Hey, I really look forward to that, God. I mean you and me are getting to be real buddies."

 

"No, I mean, do you prepare in any way?"

 

"Well, I try to think of a really good question. You know, something worthy of the moment."

 

"Then you write it down, correct?"

 

"Well, yeah."

 

"If I am always with you, why the need to write it down? Are you not thinking at the time that your thoughts must be delivered to me at a special time and at a special place, that otherwise they will not be communicated?"

 

"I see your point, God."

 

"It is psychological, Harold. A believer prefers to think in such a manner. He is often reluctant to consider that we are together even at highly compromising moments, such as, in your example, when he is in the john."

 

"Okay, I buy that. But how about you?"

 

"Now it is I who do not follow you."

 

"I mean, do you get dressed up on the Sabbath too?"

 

I think the glow around God flickered a little at that, but I couldn't be sure. Sometimes he does that to make a point. Like when he's mad, he glows brighter--I got to know how close I was to a burned butt by the intensity of that glow. This time the light dimmed a little, which I think means he's laughing.

 

"Okay, how about this one, God: If you hadn't rested on the seventh day, what would have happened?"

 

"Come again, Harold?"

 

"Well, you built this huge universe in six days then decided to take a day off--for a rest, your book says."

 

"It's nice to see you read it, Harold."

 

"Hey, I liked it, God. A little violent though, at least in parts."

 

(sigh)

 

"Like when you talked that guy into knifing his kid, then stopped him at the last minute."

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, God."

 

"We talked at length about thinking things through. Think this through as well."

 

"I don't follow, God."

 

"Something that appeared in your thoughts earlier: If you read a newspaper report about someone stabbing his child because 'God told him to do it,' what would you think?"

 

"That he was a nutcase."

 

"Then why are you so willing to believe a similar story from the past, a past in which superstition was the norm and human knowledge was considerably less than it is today?"

 

"But it's in your book."

 

"Next question, Harold."

 

"But. Eh, okay, God, but I don't think I finished the other one, the one about you resting."

 

"What about it?"

 

"If there's no limit to your powers, why did you have to rest? What would have happened if you hadn't? I mean, would you have had a heart attack or something?"

 

"Figure of speech, Harold."

 

"Like an 'expression'?"

 

"Something like that."

 

"Eh, that brings up an interesting point, God: Do you get regular checkups? I'd hate to think of you running yourself down. I mean, that universe out there, it still needs a lot of work: suns exploding, galaxies bumping into each other, even the Earth is going to be fried by the Sun one of these days if nothing's done about it. All that activity is demanding on a body."

 

"A 'body,' Harold?"

 

"Well, since you mention it, that could be another question, God. I mean, if you don't get sucked into black holes like things with mass do, what are you made of?"

 

"Ideas, Harold."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Next question, please."

 

 

 

 

 

 

SEVENTEEN:

If everything is preordained,

what do you have to look forward to?

 

 

Ideas? Was he saying he represents all religions, or that it's all in our heads? I can see problems in either. I mean, how can he represent the many voodoo gods at the same time he represents the Hindu and Buddhist concept of enlightenment? Or those who believe in Christ versus those who are still waiting for the messiah?

 

If he's saying it's all in our heads, then how did we get here?--yeah, I know how God would respond to that: "This is a question, Harold, not an answer."

 

I think there's gotta be a third option, something I haven't seen as yet, something he's been trying to tell me all these nights.

 

"Are we ever destined to speak in one voice, God?"

 

"Why would you want to, Harold?"

 

"Because we would then know the truth."

 

"Would you?"

 

"Well, at least we wouldn't fight about it."

 

"Not necessarily true. You might fight about it even more than you do today. Only in a different way. The elite and those who fall into step behind them, being unopposed, would persecute those they come to regard as 'less devoted.' Reflect upon your human past, Harold: whenever one of your religions achieved dominance, it resulted in hardship, not only to those who resisted, but to the faithful as well. Untethered, religious leaders methodically tighten the restraints which bind their flock, often to the point where 'restraint' becomes 'sacrifice.' Not the sacrifice that attempts to prove devotion by taking the life of an innocent animal, but one that results in an Inquisition mentality. When that happens, religion becomes one with politics, and those who show less than acceptable enthusiasm to an increasingly elite religious leadership find themselves facing a new form of holocaust."

 

"But those were primitive religions."

 

"Are Christians primitive? Are Moslems? But they--and so many others--have demonstrated this point at least once in their past, and there is little doubt they would do so again if given the chance. Besides, Harold, primitive is relative. To you a religion is 'primitive' simply because few, if any, follow it today. You fail to consider that in its place are religions which will be considered 'primitive' tomorrow--yours being the exception, of course."

 

"I don't know which one I am, God."

 

"That was God sarcasm, Harold."

 

"Oh yeah, sure. Pretty good too ... I think. But you're saying we're damned no matter what we do."

 

"Again not true. Consider the state of Earth's civilization today; compare it to a short two thousand years ago. While you might not consider yourselves uniformly at peace with one another, there is a growing recognition that human beings must learn to live together, that they have no choice but to accommodate diversity of being and diversity of thought. You have years to go and many obstacles to overcome, Harold, but you are on the road to becoming civilized. The trick is to stay the course."

 

"How do we do that?"

 

"The how is up to you."

 

"I gotta tell you, God, that confuses me some. I mean, you already know how it's going to come out."

 

"Do I?"

 

"Sure. It's all preordained."

 

"Your assumption, Harold."

 

"That's also in your book, God."

 

"Think it through, Harold."

 

"Yeah, well I hear you, God, even if I don't know where that leaves me. I always did have a problem with that preordained stuff. I mean, if everything is preordained and you knew what was going to happen, what would you have to look forward to?"

 

"Good point, Harold."

 

"And knowing everything would take the fun out of discovery."

 

"No doubt."

 

"Eh, is that more God sarcasm, God?"

 

"Call it food for thought, Harold. Do with it what you wish."

 

I guess I don't believe in that preordained stuff. Planned maybe, but not preordained. Preordained says God can't change his mind and go some other way--I mean, if it's "written," then it's written for him as well. If he does have the power to change his mind, then, by definition, it's not written; the future is not preordained.

 

Besides, there's a contradiction in there: How could God know everything if time never ends? No matter how far out in time he looked, he'd always find a lot more that he hasn't seen yet--you can't see the end of something that has no end. And if you can't see the end, that means you can't know everything that's going to happen.

 

It occurred to me then that no matter how much I tried at the start of our conversations, I couldn't keep the subject matter light. God and me always got back to the heavy stuff, the stuff that leaves us both depressed--I could tell by all those "sighs" that he was feeling it too. But I figured it was him guiding me through this; I mean, he has the power and all. I figured he knew I had to get it off my chest, get somebody else to say what I've been saying all these years, that you gotta think it all through. So far, I got more things to think through than I got answers, but I figured that was the way he wanted it.

 

I decided to test my theory about not being able to keep it light by coming out with something that couldn't be considered anything but that.

 

"Is there a Mrs. God, God?"

 

"Harold!"

 

"You know, someone who does the laundry, mends your wings, keeps your glow bright and shiny?"

 

"Harold?"

 

"Yeah, well it must get a little lonely, God, what with all us inferior types and no one on your level to share a drink with--I gotta wonder why you do it."

 

(sigh) "I sometimes wonder that myself, Harold."

 

"Yeah? Maybe that's why we humans get that way, God. Questioning things, I mean. Because we're so much like you."

 

"Me forbid."

 

"Ha! It's good to see you can laugh about it, God."

 

(sigh)

 

See what I mean? I start off with something light and it quickly turns to heavy. I feel bad about maybe making the big guy sad, but what can I do? I try; I really try. I just don't have a way with words; they come out the wrong way, even if the big guy is guiding me, which he won't say he is.

 

"How about politics, God"

 

"What about it?"

 

"Well is that a safe subject?"

 

"Safe?"

 

"Yeah. I was thinking of you. You know, sparing your feelings."

 

"Thank you, Harold, but I can take care of myself."

 

"Oh yeah, of course. I mean, you're God, right?"

 

"Last time I looked."

 

"Yeah, great thing light, isn't it. I mean, you couldn't have 'looked' before that."

 

"We covered that subject, Harold."

 

"Just 'lightening' things up a bit, God."

 

(sigh)

 

"But now that you mention it, how are you able to see yourself? Are there mirrors up here?"

 

(sigh)

 

"Yeah, well getting back to politics, everywhere you go on Earth you got it: On the job, at home, even in places of worship. Everybody's fighting to find a place for themselves, then fighting some more to better it, usually at another guy's expense."

 

"And you wonder whether this is continued in heaven."

 

"Well, if we're the same people, why wouldn't it be?"

 

"You assume you are the same people."

 

"If we aren't, then what's the sense of being that kind of person to begin with? Why not skip the middle man and go right to whatever we are when we're no longer us?"

 

"You mean skip life."

 

"Boy, I don't much like the sound of that, but I guess it does makes sense. I mean, if you think it'll fly, I'll give it my vote."

 

(sigh)

 

 

 

 

 

EIGHTEEN:

Do we gotta stay children forever?

 

 

While we were on the subject of politics, I asked him how, since everything that's wrong with the world is brought about by humans, we could consider ourselves "precious." I mean, when compared to other living things.

 

"As I cited when we were discussing your assumption that 'all of this is for you:' you see what you want to see of yourself. It stems from an innate sense of inferiority, Harold. Deep down you are in closer touch with the real you, and it is less than you wish it to be. You suffer a sense of insecurity as well. You feel the need for purpose; you feel the need to see a positive future for yourselves. Without satisfaction in these areas, you perceive difficulty in going on with your lives."

 

"Well, with all that going against us, God, how could you consider us 'precious'?"

 

"Another assumption, Harold. But don't be so hard on yourself. In many ways, you are growing up. Like a child in a playroom, there will come a day when you will know how to take care of your things."

 

We chatted about that one for what seemed like a long time. Probably seemed a lot longer to my poor buddy, God. I guess he let me go on because he knew how much I was feeling the moment. He's nice that way, even if he was sticking to his guns about not giving me what I wanted, not giving me the real skinny, I mean.

 

When I woke up that night, I spent the rest of the time until morning thinking about where that put me. I did a lot of talking and God did a lot of listening, but what really came out of it? I think he agrees with me about thinking things through and the harm it does when people don't do that. Harm not only in religion but in politics too--sometimes it's hard to tell the two apart. And I think he was less concerned with what the funny-eyes guys were saying than with how many of us were swallowing it.

 

"The onus is on you to not be afraid to judge each of them on his or her merits ... spend more time in thinking and less in believing."

 

He also said that believing doesn't have anything to do with truth, although I gotta admit he also said truth wasn't the point, that it was only relative at best. More important was what we do with what we think is truth.

 

At any rate, he doesn't intend to intervene with the funny-eyes guys. He doesn't intend to change what they are or zap their tails to keep them in line. He doesn't intend to intervene with us either. I got the impression he thinks our beliefs are too fickle. Not well founded, not well supported and they change from minute to minute.

 

"Faith in weakly supported ideas has little value, Harold ... if you let yourself decide things on faith rather than fact, where do you draw the line?"

 

"That last part was you, Harold, not I."

 

"Yeah? Sorry, God. I guess I'm already starting to modify that 'truth' I keep searching for."

 

(sigh) "I am not surprised, Harold."

 

"You know, I would've said it's you bringing it out of me, but I didn't get much agreement on the guide-me-through-life thing."

 

"I left that for you to think through, Harold."

 

"Yeah, that came through loud and clear, God. Anyway, I don't feel like I'm being guided--don't get me wrong; that's not bad; I kinda like the idea of being responsible for myself. That way I can let myself feel good about what I make of it, rather than giving away credit for the good while taking all the blame for the bad."

 

"I like that, Harold. As I say, you are growing up."

 

"And you don't mind that, God? I mean, you always refer to us as your children."

 

"Like all children, there comes a time when one is required to assume adult responsibilities. Children become tedious in direct proportion to how slow they are in doing so."

 

That one really got his eyes to glowing. Not the thing about calling the children tedious--he's mostly looking at me when he says things like "tedious." I meant our taking more responsibility for our own lives.

 

"...or suffer [our] lack of courage."

 

"I got that quote right, God."

 

"Yes, you did, Harold. I am impressed."

 

"Guess I'm already on the path to learning like you said I should be. I mean, I can feel the wisdom swelling inside me, just itching to get out."

 

(sigh)

 

I think he likes my idea about jazzing up heaven a bit, although I suppose that could be wishful thinking on my part. I mean, I was hoping he'd give me the job, me having all these good ideas and all. Of course I'd have to die first, which I'm not sure I want to do.

 

In talking about personal responsibility, which I gather is a biggie with him, he included not only us poor guys who have to suffer what the funny-eyes guys come up with, but the funny-eyes guys themselves.

 

"One who professes to have the 'true' knowledge has an obligation to fully and fairly consider opposing opinion."

 

Among other things, he's saying be honest with yourself. Sounds easy but in practice it's not. Anyway, his saying it gives me hope about what might be waiting for those who are screwing up his world.

 

"That person is wrong who acts against his conscience, who does what in his heart he knows is less than credible."

 

"More of the vengeance thing, Harold?"

 

"Well, maybe a little, God. I mean, it makes me feel good, and feeling good is what paradise is all about, right?"

 

(sigh)

 

If I ever get to be one of God's supervisors, I'm going to ask for the job of greeting these guys when they get to heaven (recognizing the big guy's cautions about vengeance, I will, of course, be gracious and fair). In the meantime, I gotta hope none of them get more power on Earth than is good for the rest of us.

 

"Untethered, religious leaders methodically tighten the restraints which bind their flock, often to the point where 'restraint' becomes 'sacrifice.'"

 

When old Ben Franklin went to England to represent the colonies, he was surprised to find people singing on the Sabbath, something that was not permitted in many parts of his own country. Yet nothing bad was happening to these people, the English people, I mean. Ben said of it, "I am beginning to suspect that the deity is not nearly as angry at the offense of breaking the Sabbath as your average New England magistrate." Apparently, there were a lot of funny-eyes guys around then too.

 

I guess I'm happier now. At least I'm happy I got God to listen to me, even if it was only in my dreams rather than a few beers in my living room--I must admit, I'd believe it more if it was the other way around. Now, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I mean, that I got more misery than the next guy. It's just that I got a life-long hot-button about having to swallow the nonsense of the majority just to keep the peace. And I don't like the idea of my grandchildren or great-grandchildren having to do this either--praying in school might seem like a simple thing to the majority, but it wasn't to me, and it isn't to those poor kids like me who will have to go along or single themselves out. You force a kid to make that kind of choice and you got a sour kid in the making.

 

In truth, I got a good thing going. I mean, I'm happier than most people I know, and probably happier than most of the people I don't know. I got more stuff to be happy with, like love, friends, money, that kind of thing. What I think God is saying is that's gotta be enough, at least for now. The answers are gonna come, but they're not gonna arrive overnight.

 

I still have trouble understanding why this has to be, though. I think it'd be a whole lot better world for everybody if there were more answers now. One answer every thousand years gets a guy a little impatient.

 

What will those answers be when they finally get here? My take on what the big guy said is, this will depend on us. Not how much we follow what the funny-eyes guys say, but how much we are willing to take hold of our lives and continue the long march toward civilization--the answers will come in proportion to how fast we as a species grow up.

 

I buy that, although it disappoints me some. I like to be independent, but I sorta like the idea of having somebody else to draw on if I get into trouble or have a bad day. That may be a little of my childhood hanging on, but it's hard to ignore.

 

My biggest regret is that I didn't even come close to an answer for what is truth. I mean, truth about why we're here and what we should believe. All I got was a suggestion that I shouldn't place so much stock in it, that nobody else has it either, that the kind of people we are now, we wouldn't know what to do with it if we had it.

 

"... no single religion commands a majority of the world's population [but] even if one did, and even if that voice represented ninety-nine point nine percent of the entire human race, it would not make them right."

 

Maybe what he was trying to tell me was that the god we seek is within ourselves, whatever we make of that. And maybe this is the best we're going to get. Yeah, I know, a lot of "maybe." Anyway, I think what counts is how much you try to fool both yourself and the big guy. Fooling yourself is pretty hard; you know what you're thinking down deep inside no matter what kind of effort you make to keep it from coming out. And with regard to trying to fool the big guy, it could be you only get so many "sighs" in life.

 

If someday we get visitors from the stars, they'll probably accelerate our thinking about a lot of things, including religion. The only problem with that is, in what direction? Hopefully, they'll have more of the answers that mankind needs to settle itself down and become the "civilized" that God was talking about. If we're less lucky than that, these visitors will bring along their own set of beliefs which they'll feel compelled to muscle into our thinking--celestial funny-eyes guys, just what the world needs.

 

God, I hope that last part doesn't turn out to be true. Even the ten thousand religions we got now are more than we need--although I gathered from what God said about letting one religion gain too much power, that the alternative, facing only one, could be worse.

 

I guess I could take the approach one of the founders of our country took, the guy I quoted earlier, Ben Franklin. He said in one of his letters that he had doubts, including doubting whether Christ was anything but a man, but that since he was already well up in his eighties, he thought it "needless to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an opportunity of knowing the truth with less trouble." If waiting wasn't such a big deal to him, maybe it shouldn't be such a big deal to me. Of course, I'm a lot younger than old Ben.

 

I'm still going to question everything, though. I mean, why not? Like I said, I can't hide the doubts from myself, and I can't hide them from the big guy. Anyway, he'd think less of me if I went back to nodding with the rest of the crowd whenever someone comes up with something that makes me want to barf. He'd say, "think it through, Harold," something like that.

 

He must've had the same talk with old Ben Franklin because Ben had something to say on that too: "I do not perceive that the Supreme takes it amiss, by distinguishing the unbelievers in his government of the world with any peculiar marks of his displeasure." (Ben sounds just like me.)

 

Anyway, God as much as said he's going to sit back and watch. Oh I gotta believe he'll hope for the best, but whatever I get, good or bad, I gotta make it happen myself. So I'll just go about my business and try to ignore the guys that are so noisy about going about theirs. I think in time God will buy my idea about zapping their butts to keep the damage they do to a minimum. I mean, it's a good use for lightning bolts. Better that than aiming them at houses and cars and people who got misery enough.

 

But I think it's his supervisors who do that.

 

 

 

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

 

 

Tapping into another of Benjamin Franklin writings, "I have ever let others enjoy their religious sentiments without reflecting on them for those that appeared to me insupportable or even absurd ... and as I have never opposed any of their doctrines, I hope to go out of the world in peace with them all."

 

The overwhelming diversity of religious opinion should instill in each of us a sense of tolerance, understanding and, most of all, humility in what we so fervently profess to others. Whoever we are, whatever we believe and however strongly we hold these beliefs, we stand no better chance of being correct than our neighbor.

 

(Except for Harold, of course.)

 

http://home.att.net/~noelcarroll

 

© 2002 by Noel Carroll

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

 


 

 

 

 


The husband-and-wife team, Noel and Carol (using the surname, "Carroll") have produced novels and short stories in three genres: thrillers, science fiction and humor/satire. There is similarity between them, with all emphasizing story ahead of the sensational. Sensationalism also takes a back seat to plausibility, to reasonableness, to validity and purpose of character and to avoidance of the commonplace and the expected. The effect is to produce tales that seduce and engage readers of all genres.

Noel, prior to taking up writing full time, served as a corporate CEO.  Carol was an executive in a private corporate.  Their published works include novels, short stories and satiric essays.

 

URL:   http://home.att.net/~noelcarroll