God Almighty speaks, at last

GOD ALMIGHTY SPEAKS

Like Queen Elizabeth, I scrupulously avoid public discussion of my subjects' daily affairs. But Queen Elizabeth isn't omnipotent and omniscient; I am— and consequently it drives me up a wall when I see some of the nonsense that Broad Street Review publishes about me.

Let me stress that, in my infallible judgment, Broad Street Review is the most stimulating intellectual forum since Addison and Steele closed the London Spectator in 1712.

Let me further stress that I'm a great believer in unfettered free expression, even for idiots. I don't want to intimidate anyone from speaking his or her mind. I just need to get a few things off my chest.

On calling me a fraud

To Joy Tomme, author of "Is supernatural religion a fraud?"—

You've been on my case for years, and I want you to know that I'm sick and tired of your constant needling.

Anyone with an ounce of sensitivity understands by now that I've been struggling for centuries with issues of low self-esteem. That's why millions of people hold pep rallies every week in churches, mosques and synagogues to buck up my spirits.

Everybody needs a word of encouragement now and then, Joy. But with you, it's nothing but bitch, bitch, bitch. Garden-variety atheists like Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris I can handle. But you really know how to get under my skin. Oooh, you just make me so mad!

A few kind words

Goodness knows I've made my share of mistakes. Who hasn't? But would it kill you, once in a while, to say, "Way to eliminate apartheid in South Africa, God!" or "Nice work ending the Cold War without firing a shot" or "Smartphones have really changed my life in a whole new liberating way!"?

Joy, to you I say what Warren Harding used to tell reporters on his Ohio newspaper: "Boost, don't knock!"

All I ask, really, is a little perspective. Right now thousands of people are being slaughtered in Syria and Egypt. Detroit is bankrupt. Congress is trying to gut Obamacare. The Inquirer just eliminated its op-ed page. The Phillies fired the best manager in baseball. And you're busting my chops because the Gospels aren't literally true?

Girl, will you wake up and smell the coffee? Of course they're not literally true. If they were, who would read them?

Greatest story ever?

Just for the sake of argument, let's suppose that some wise and charismatic philosopher managed to rationally persuade everyone to love each other and refrain from murdering, stealing, cheating or lying. And let's further suppose that this philosopher died in bed at an advanced age.

Do you think anyone would call this boring yarn "the greatest story ever told"? Would you buy the book, even at the Amazon.com discount? Would you pay $9.50 to see the film version at the Ritz?

Of course not. To seize people's attention, you need drama. The essence of drama is conflict. And conflict requires villains— Romans, Jews, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, whatever. The Evangelists understood that eons ago. I mean, under what rock have you been hiding?

Luckily for you, I no longer decide who goes to heaven or hell— that's now handled by our admissions department on a need-blind basis, to keep my personal biases out of the process. But let me just say this: If you do get to heaven, watch your back. I'd like to punch you right in the mouth.

Impossible expectations

To Kile Smith, who lampooned Joy Tomme in "This just in: The Resurrection is silly"—

You da man, Kile! Thanks to your supportive words, I can focus my energies on bigger challenges, like finding a cure for AIDS. And it's not just your words— your toe-tapping tunes put the spring in my step each morning when I have to wake up and face the world for maybe the 10 billionth time. It's better than Muzak!

So I hope it won't seem churlish of me to complain that you're causing me even more problems than Joy Tomme. Your constant exaggerated praise of me creates expectations that I can't possibly fulfill.

About that resurrection…

Specifically, what is this virgin birth and resurrection that you keep bringing up? Where did you get such an idea? It just isn't humanly possible. Didn't you ever take a biology course?

I'm not a miracle worker, you know. I'm still trying to figure out women, for goodness' sake.

I'm not saying it didn't happen. Maybe it did. Even if I cared— which I don't, any more than you care about that ant you just squashed underfoot (see? I really am omniscient!)— I can't keep track of everything that's happened on this planet for the past 300 million years.

So please, Kile— where is your proof? Show me a birth certificate, or a newspaper clip, or a photo, or a tape recording, or even a plain old eyewitness account. I've had it up to here with people who expect me to accept everything on faith. Capice?

Logical conundrum

Besides, if what you say is true, it opens up a real can of worms for me. I'm supposed to be infinitely wise and fair. But if I gave the world my only begotten son so that anyone who believes in him thereafter will gain eternal life, people will logically wonder: What about everyone who died before I gave the world my only begotten son? Why didn't I think of them before I impulsively hatched this stunt? "He's making it up as he goes along!" they'll say.

You see, Kile, you've put my entire credibility at risk. To reassert my manhood, I may have to devise some macho media event, like making the sun stand still or turning Chris Christie into a pillar of salt.

Thanks for listening. Please keep on churning out those musical works about Vespers and such— I too love boating on the Schuylkill. But I personally could do without that work about hummingbirds attacking hawks. (Click here.) Really sick stuff, if you ask me. Why can't we all just get along?

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