5. Honor thy father and thy mother.

That’s pretty sweeping, isn’t it? I mean, when, where, how, why, and for how long?

All the time. Anywhere. By showing them the respect and giving them the dignity they deserve. Because they created you – you owe them everything, including your life. Forever. Amen.

I see. That sounds like a fairly tall order, don’t you think? You also presuppose that a person should be grateful for being brought into this world, that it’s simply a given. But, did it ever occur to you that maybe some people don’t want to be sucked onto this planet and held down by gravity for a human lifetime? You make it sound as though the child is automatically responsible for its parents – their sense of respect and dignity – and somehow owes them its life. I don’t get that, Mr God. If it has to be that way at all, then why not the other way around?

What other way around?

Since the parents made a conscious decision (assuming that anyway) to have the child, and the child had no say in the matter, then doesn’t it stand to reason that it should be the parents who are responsible for the child and they, in fact, owe it their lives?

Do you have any children of your own?

Uhh – you got me there, Mr God. What do you mean?

I mean what I say!

I mean, is this a trick question or something?

What do you think I am, a magician or something?

Well, actually, yes, sort of. Aren’t you?

I am Everything and Nothing!

I won’t pretend to know what that means, but it sounds kind of cool. Anyway, what I was trying to say was that your question threw me a little because… well, you know… you know everything.

So?

Well, you do know how many children I have, don’t you?

Ridiculous and ludicrous! Since I know every hair on your head, how could I not know how many children you have?

Well, since you put it that way, yes, I guess it would be crazy… since you know everything and all. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.

You’re losing me, son. Can you hurry this up?

Okay, I’m ready to wrap this one up, I think. I just want to make sure that this commandment applies to all children – which is to say, every person of every age – at all times. Can you speak to that for a moment, Mr God?

Yes, for everyone, at all times. That’s the point of these commandments, son – don’t you get it yet? This is the law I have laid down for you to live by. I gave you life in the first place. I am the decider!

Hey, did you just quote George Dubya Bush? You joker! That’s funny. I’m kind of relieved somewhat to find you have a sense of humor. I like that. That’s a likeable trait.

Oh, well, yes. Thank you. Please, carry on…

I’m just talking about when you smile like that – yes, that’s it, just like that! – you lighten up and there seems to be a softer, more loving God that comes to the surface, you know… kinda like Dubya – the kind of guy I’d like to sit and have a beer with, shoot the breeze and chill coolin’ in the suds, if you get what I’m sayin’…

Gosh, I… I don’t know… what to say…

Wow – who’d ever have thunk it? God speechless! Far out! Hey, are you blushing? Is that a little pink under that white beard?

Naaahh…

Oh, Mr God, are you crying? Soaking that bushy beard? It’s all right, you just let it all out now… but what is it? What’s making you cry like a Little Miss Sunshine who’s just lost the competition?

Nobody’s ever… well, treated me like this. You said you’d like to chill with me, like a friend, just hang. All I ever get is people asking me for stuff. And you know what sucks? They do it all week long, but come Sunday – my one and only day off – they really blast me out of it. Even if they offer me something, it’s always with some hidden agenda, you know. Like, Dear God, o deargododeargododeargod, I want to show you my adoration by staying off of chocolate this Lent. I shall do it in your name! It is a tremendous sacrifice – but, of course, what am I saying? – you already know that, don’t you? Anyway, hope all is well with you… and your… you and the angels. I’m about 3 stone overweight right now and if you could see your way to helping me shed the pounds, I’d be eternally grateful and would owe you even more adoration and praise and worship, as we move forward, you and I, olord, on the ground… crawling over lines in the sand, getting tired sometimes, redoubling our efforts… as we go into the future, hand in hand, and, sometimes, you carrying me when I cannot bear to go on due to thirst, hunger and imminent death darkening everything in its vampire-like black shadow, leaving only your footsteps in the sand… ad nauseum.

Oh, come on now, Mr God… here, use this handkerchief. I promise you it’s clean.

I already knew that.

Of course you did. And you know how you’re saying in this commandment – your number 5 in your Top 10 – that all children should always honor their parents, right?

I do. I am saying that. It’s what it says on the tin, isn’t it? Why’s it so hard communicating with you people?

Only you know that.

? –

So, if a child was brought up by parents who were neglectful, abusive, and without a shred of compassion or love in their bones, that child should honor them anyway – to hell with what they did, the way they acted, just honor them anyway, whether they deserve it or not – is that what you are actually saying… I mean literally?

I keep telling you, my son, I gave you free-will. People get to choose. And that’s more than what some of us get, if you get my meaning. Anyway, what kind of tyrant would I be if I didn’t give you free-will? You’d be like brain

dead zombies or robots or something. And what fun would that be?

That’s an interesting way of looking at it, I’ll give you that. And, on that very point, free-will… tell me, Mr God, when you think of the defenceless, small doll-like child being abused by some grown up human being, I’m just wondering, you know… where’s that child’s free-will?

It’s not that simple. I have a divine plan, you’ll just have to trust me on that. And even if I tried to explain it to you, you wouldn’t understand.

But, I thought you were omnific – that you could do anything you wanted to do.

I can. But, it gets complicated, you know?

I see that it does. You are all powerful and all mighty and yet you cannot explain to us humans in a way we’d understand what your divine plan is. Surely, the fact that you cannot do something negates the claim to be able to do anything, right? Anyway, am I to understand that your divine plan, the one that you dreamed up, designed and are right now manifesting into existence includes innocent children being raped and tortured by some of the human beings that… well, dare I say it?

Say it!

That you created. Since that’s what’s happening, then we can conclude that its part of your divine plan.

I work in mysterious ways! You cannot know my divine plan!

Why not?

Why not?! What? Preposterous and red-boiled lobsterous! We covered this, didn’t we? Do you have Alzheimer’s son?

Do I?

If I reveal my cunning plan and prove my existence then you would no longer have the wonderful gift – the gift I saw fit to bestow on you – of free-will. And look at the thanks I get! Ingrate!

So, I take it that you’re not going to answer my question about the little children… the little children who have to suffer to come unto you. What in the hell does that mean anyway? There’s so many things wrong with that sentence. Firstly, you decree that all the children must suffer? Why? Did you suffer? Are you just sharing the suffering? Trying to get us to carry the cross for your sins the way you made your (as far as we know) only son be tortured to death on two planks of wood stuck together?

I Am The Son! And The Holy Ghost, too! We are the Holy Trinity. We are three, yet we are one!

And I am the walrus, goo googa joob! So, to change the subject  here for a brief moment, and get back to it in even less time, isn’t suicide a sin? A whopper sized sin?

You can count on it!

So, if you are your son, then didn’t you kill yourself? Commit suicide, as it were?

You are my son, and you shalt honor me as you shalt your mother and father, but even more, and you shalt not try to be a smartass with me!

Gotcha, Big Guy! Guess you’re not going to touch that one – and I don’t blame you. I know I couldn’t defend it myself… but then again, you’re God, right. The Big G! You don’t have to explain anything to us. And we wouldn’t get it even if you did. Not because you failed to communicate effectively, but that we failed to understand you, stupid us!? So, before we go around in circles here, like dogs chasing their own tails –

Or licking their own balls –

Yes, okay, then, it could be like that too. Tell me, Mr God, what’s your number 6 in the Top 10 of All Time?… (Next blog: Thou Shalt Not Kill!)

© 2010 Owen Pardue

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