Tag: religion

The H Word

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“To the man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
Ever hear that?
I have. And I saw something similar to it carved into the bathroom stall: “To the man with a tree and a rope, everything looks like a nigger.”
Disgusting, isn’t it?
Know what’s worse? It’s carved into the bathroom stall of a church.
My church.
I close the Bible and look up from the pulpit.
“Which one of you fuckers wrote that?” I shout.
They stare back. Nobody responds.
Oh well. No sense beating a dead horse.
Potluck Sunday, you know.
Pass the potato salad, please.

Creature Infinite in Scope

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Like every creature infinite in scope, God was a bored and lonely being.
He created the universe, then He filled it with all sorts of interesting stuff.
Including us.
What interests Him the most is our capacity for faith and gratitude in the aftermath of a disaster.
Whatever He hurls our way, we come together and seek His guidance.
So, He tests us more. You could even say He tortures us now and then.
But not for His amusement. No, it’s for some kind of reason or plan.
For a creature infinite in scope, shouldn’t He know the answer already?

Floor-Thumper

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The Reverend was in his office, practicing his bible-thumping, when he felt an odd sensation in his chest.
Two seconds later, he hit the floor with a thump, dead.
Upon arrival in Heaven, Jerry was expecting a harp, halo, and wings.
Instead, St. Peter slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table.
“Please sign this,” he said.
“What is it?” said Jerry, adjusting his glasses.
“It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” said St. Peter. “Please sign it so we may proceed.”
Jerry signed it.
“Good,” said St. Peter, putting the paper in his briefcase. “Have a nice trip down.”

He Loves You

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God looked over His Wondrous, Unlit Creation and decided it was good.
Well, except for one thing: The Plans.
“Something not right, Boss?” asked an angel.
“Let me get this straight,” said God. “I’m supposed to act like an asshole, drive people nuts for centuries, and then send down my kid to let them know I love them?
“Right,” said the angel.
“And then they kill him,” continued God. “But then he comes back from the dead?”
“Exactly,” said the angel.
“I must have been really drunk when I wrote that shit up,” said God, and He flipped the switch.

Dumb Bunny

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There we were, trying to eat a little breakfast before the daily crucifixions, when this big white rabbit shows up.
“Hey, kids!” he shouted.
Kids? We’re Roman centurions.
He then pokes his nose into each bowl, splashing gruel all over the table. “Where’s the cereal?” he asks.
“Halt, rabbit!” growled the unit commander.
But the rabbit wouldn’t stop, and his furry feet kicked the bowls all over our uniforms.
“Where’s the Trix?” he cried.
Later that afternoon, we nailed him up with the thieves and the loudmouth carpenter.
What a silly rabbit. Didn’t he know that Trix are for Yids?

Thou Shalt Not Kill The Messenger

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It’s an amazing thing, watching God bend beams of light into unusual shapes in the heavens.
Every night, I sit at the observatory and watch that corner of the cosmos fold and twist.
Of course, I can’t be certain that it’s God doing this, but if it is God, it looks like He’s writing some sort of message.
The problem is, He’s writing it in a manner that makes it impossible for us to read.
From Earth, it’s edge-on sideways.
Is He challenging humanity to explore outer space so we can read it, or…
Does He not know we’re here?

The Face Of God

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Things were getting loud, hot, and heavy between me and Mary again.
“The absence of visible evidence of God disproves his existence!” shouted Mary.
Philosophy again?
Great.
“Well, I’ve never seen your tits, either,” I shouted back. “But from the curve in your sweater and how they feel in the dark, I can reason they exist.”
Mary put down her books, lifted her sweater, and I saw The Face Of God.
“Hi there,” He said.
Mary pulled her sweater back down, slapped me, and walked away.
You know, now that I think of it, I never did see her tits.

Goliath’s Fall

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It was the final battle.
For all the shekels.
Goliath never knew what hit him, that dumb son of a bitch.
One moment, he was waving his war club around and rallying the troops.
All of the sudden, a rock hits him in the skull.
The giant didn’t even say “OUCH!”
His eyes took on that thousand-cubit stare and he toppled like a broken column.
A minute later, his lieutenant arrived, breathlessly apologizing to his commander for his tardiness.
“You really should keep your pack mule better organized,” he muttered. “It took me forever to find your helmet.”
“Sir? Sir?”

Those Lousy Bums

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These days, the Doomsayers write their Armageddon spells on pieces of cardboard and wave them around in crowds, foaming at the mouth.
Back in the day, they’d glue their signs to wooden sticks or make up one of those… what were they?
Sandwich boards! That’s it!
The end of the world is coming, and these crazy bastards know it.
After all, it’s their job to cause it.
They gather at night, light their campfires, and chant in unison in praise of The Great Destroyer.
When I find them, I roust them out.
I have yet to miss a gathering.
Yet.

Kotel

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When I told the congregation I was going to Jerusalem, they warned me about the Kotel.
“Try not to be shocked,” they said.
After weeks of travel, I was finally in the presence of the Holiest of Holies.
The only thing between me and it was an Arab market. Camels and horses, tied down to fixtures embedded the wall.
A merchant spits on the wall, walks back to his tent.
Elohim
My children will reclaim your Temple
Theodor
I slip it in a crack and pray.
Then I get out my briefcase and I begin to buy up the deeds.