Dear God,

I have been going through some difficult times in my life, and I have tried to turn to you for help. So far, though, you have not helped me. I have refused to be discouraged, and I keep on searching. My quest has been to understand, as I suffer, what God really wants from me, and why he has made me endure such suffering.

Then, yesterday, I came across some writings by the Reverend Earnest Anderson. Reverend Anderson writes, “God wants us to have a spiritual growth spurt. He wants us more mature like His Son so that we can play a bigger part in His eternal purposes.”

Well, that told me all I needed to know. But, now I’m angry at you, God. It seems that you only value us human beings as some kind of livestock, so that you can fatten us up for the slaughter.

You feed us hope, so that we can have a “spiritual growth spurt”, but in the end, you intend to treat us just like you treated Jesus. You’re going to kill all your followers, in one form or another, through automobile accidents, or cancer, or alzheimer’s, and you’re going to get your spiritual nutrition from our suffering as we parish.

God, you are like a vampire. I’m on to your schemes. So now, I want you to tell me what I have to do to fend off your sadistic sacrificial plans. Tell me, or I’ll spill the beans.

- Andrew

Andrew,

Well, it’s the same thing as with vampires, really. Garlic.

If you want to be free from the curse of suffering and death, you must wear a clove of fresh garlic around your neck at all times. Never let yourself be free of that clove of garlic, however - not even for a second, even to take a shower. The minute you let your guard down, you will be subject to my curse again.

I’ll be watching and waiting, Andrew, for you to let that garlic slip out of your grasp. I’m going to get you, Andrew, and then your spiritual growth spurt will be mine to feast upon, slowly, savoring every last morsel.

- God

Dear God,

There was this little book at the Starbucks around the corner from my house, entitled, God, A Seeker’s Companion. I opened it up this morning, while I was waiting for my mocha, and saw this quote from Simone Weil on the page I first came to: “There are times when thinking of God separates us from him.”

That sounded very clever, but I really have no idea what it means. So, I thought of coming on here and asking you what it means.

I realized, though, that if I came here and asked you what it means that I would have to think about you, God, and then, if what this Weil person said was true, I would become more separated from you.

Then, as soon as I thought about that, I realized that I was thinking about you even more, and so I had probably become even more separated from you. Then it occurred to me that I had repeated the error once again.

So, I’m thinking of you one last time, just to ask you this: How can I get out of this vicious cycle of thinking about you and getting separated from you even further?

- Hemmings

Hemmings,

Just remember this: The more you think about me, the less I make sense. What does that suggest to you about my nature?

Also keep in mind that Simone Weil starved herself to death. Why would you seek advice from her?

- God

Dear God,

It says in the Psalms in the Holy Bible: “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Okay, God. I delight in you. You are really, really great. You’re a terrific guy. It feels so good to be around you.

Now I want a pony.

- Felicia

Felicia,

No, you don’t. I know your heart better than you do, and I can tell that what you really want is to take delight in me some more.

So, come on and indulge yourself. What else do you like about me?

- God

Dear God,

They say that you are omnipotent, that you can do anything. I don’t believe it.

There’s got to be at least one thing that you can’t do, or you wouldn’t be able to be powerless, and therefore you wouldn’t be all powerful.

So, what’s one thing you can’t do?

- Horatio

Horatio,

You caught me. There is one thing that I can’t do: Drive legally in the state of Florida. Go ahead and look it up in the official records: I’ve never been issued a driver’s license there.

Just let the Florida State Police try to pull me over, though. Just let them try.

- God

Dear God,

I’ve spent the last week watching a lot of television specials, trying to tell what the true meaning of Christmas is, but I still haven’t gotten it figured out. Please, help me understand.

What is the true meaning of Christmas?

- Carlo

Carlo,

You might as well ask what the true meaning of a pickle is. The problem is that many people, you included, have mistaken this question for an ultimate question. In fact, it’s just a question of personal perspective.

What is the true meaning of Thursday? Well, that depends, doesn’t it? I mean, for one person, the meaning of Thursday might be that it’s the day that they’re getting married. For someone else, Thursday might be the day that they will be hauled off to prison for the rest of their lives. For a few unlucky people, Thursday will have both meanings.

Christmas is the same. For some people, it’s a day when they get presents. For other people, the true meaning of Christmas is that it will make them even fatter than before. For some people, the true meaning of Christmas is that they can’t work, because their place of work is shut down and they can’t earn an hourly wage.

For many children, the true meaning of Christmas is that they have to kiss their aunt’s cheek. For some, the true meaning of Christmas is that they have to be in the same house as their sexually molesting great uncle, and not tell anyone about it. For other children, the true meaning of Christmas is that for that one day, no one will tell them to stop eating cookies.

For credit card companies, the true meaning of Christmas is that a lot of people will be paying off a lot of debt at high interest rates. For the climate, the true meaning of Christmas is that a lot of disposable stuff has been made, causing a lot of energy to used, pumping more carbon into the atmosphere.

For some people the true meaning of Christmas is that it doesn’t have any meaning at all.

You may not like to hear this, but remember that there’s a reason you asked me. I’m God, and I’ve been everywhere, and I know everything. I know, more than anyone else, that everything is relative, and that includes Christmas.

You won’t find that answer on any of your television Christmas specials, but then again, they’re all trying to sell you something on commercial breaks. I’m not.

- God

Dear God,

A couple days ago, you posted a video of yourself, explaining how the rumors spread by Mike Huckabee that Mitt Romney believed that Jesus and the Devil were brothers were without foundation. You corrected the rumors by pointing out that Jesus is the father of the Devil.

When this video of you was posted on YouTube, one angry viewer called it “tasteless”.

I’ve been thinking about that, and I’m not so sure. Theologically speaking, can God be referred to as tasteless?

- Easton

Easton,

Your instincts do you credit. In fact, it is profoundly incorrect to say that I am tasteless.

I taste like chicken, or so I’ve been told.

- God

Dear God,

Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney have introduced the ideas of theology into the 2008 presidential election, as Mike Huckabee has questioned whether Mormons like Mitt Romney believe that Jesus and the Devil are brothers.

I thought that the question should be settled with you. So, is it true? Is Jesus the brother of Satan?

- Ruben

Ruben,

Of course it’s not true. Jesus is the Devil’s father. Any fool could see that this relationship makes it impossible for Jesus to be the Devil’s brother as well.

Jesus was in his twenties when he wandered up the Rhine and encountered a young woman named Bertha. They fell in love, and had a son.

Jesus tried to establish himself professionally in the area, but could only find employment as a circus performer, doing tricks with a unicycle and frozen fish in an act he did under the stage name of Otto the Ridiculous. One day, when Jesus was flipping a herring into the air, he felt the earth rumble, and saw that a freak avalanche was coming down the mountainside right toward the little house where he and Bertha lived.

Even with his unicycle, Jesus couldn’t make it in time to rescue Bertha. As for his baby son, he was never found…

… at least not by human hands. The son of Jesus and Bertha was swept by the avalanche into a cave inhabited by ice demons, who raised him as best they could, granting him magical powers that eventually allowed him to become the Devil.

That is the true story of the family relationship between Jesus and the Devil. I hope that helps you make your decision about who to vote for in the 2008 presidential election.

- God

Dear God,

Who among the gods is like you, O Lord? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?

- Ethel

Ethel,

Krishna is kind like me, in his larger manifestation. In the Baghavad Gita, Krishna explained to Arjuna, the heroic archer,

“Neither the hosts of demigods nor the great sages know My origin or opulences, for, in every respect, I am the source of the demigods and sages. He who knows Me as the unborn, as the beginningless, as the Supreme Lord of all the worlds—he only, undeluded among men, is freed from all sins. Intelligence, knowledge, freedom from doubt and delusion, forgiveness, truthfulness, control of the senses, control of the mind, happiness and distress, birth, death, fear, fearlessness, nonviolence, equanimity, satisfaction, austerity, charity, fame and infamy—all these various qualities of living beings are created by Me alone.”

That kind of sounds like me, doesn’t it?

Both Krishna and I are the only sources of the world, and we are both supreme lord. Also, he likes to be honored with gramatically incorrect capitalization. With me, I like the “Hims” capitalized. With Krishna, it’s the “Me” and “My”. Different gods, different strokes.

I ought to get together with Krishna and have a beer. I bet we’d have lots to talk about.

- God

Dear God,

What do you look like?

- Heather

Heather,

Imagine a beaver’s den, inside of which there is a disco ball, reflecting blue light out through gaps in the sticks, just before dawn. I look like a passing reindeer, surprised at such a sight, but in twenty three dimensions instead of the four dimensions you can see.

No, not really.  I’m kidding.  I’m about five foot eleven inches, with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  I have brown eyes, I think, but some women have told me that they’re hazel.  You might have seen me on the television in some work I do on the side as an actor in advertisements.  Currently, I’m promoting a denture cream.

- God

Dear God,

My faith has been shaken. I’ve been eating pretzels at the Auntie Anne’s pretzel shop at my local mall for years now. I love the way that they manage to make the pretzels taste bready and fatty and salty and sweet, all at the same time.

Well, I went there yesterday, and I enjoyed my pretzel so much that I asked to see Auntie Anne and thank her myself. That’s when the bottom dropped out of my world. The person at the cash register told me that there is no Auntie Anne.

I said, “That’s impossible! Look at the blue neon sign above you. It says ‘Auntie Anne’s’ This place is hers. It’s there in writing. It has to be true.”

The clerk refused to accept the logic of my argument. He just said to me, “Whatever is written up there, there is no Auntie Anne. Would you like to talk to the manager?”

Well, I talked to the manager, and she denied her personal relationship with Aunti Anne, who had created all the pretzels sitting there right in front of us.

“How can you manage one of Auntie Anne’s restaurants and not know Auntie Anne, or at least have her telephone number?” I asked.

“There is no Auntie Anne,” she said.

“Prove it to me,” I demanded. “Prove to me that Auntie Anne does not exist.”

“I can’t prove a negative,” said the manager, obviously clutching at straws. “I can’t prove that there is no Auntie Anne any more than I can prove to you that there is no invisible pretzel demon, standing behind you, waiting to lick your pretzel.”

This was too much for me to handle. At that moment, I realized what I was up against. I was dealing with a denier of Auntie Anne and a pretzel demon at the same time. I dropped my pretzel and ran away. I haven’t been back to Auntie Anne’s since.

I don’t know what to do. I need Auntie Anne, but I’m afraid to go back and face the licking pretzel demon. What should I do?

- Anita

Anita,

Clearly, what you need to do is to start lobbying Congress. Get the words “and Auntie Anne” inserted in the Pledge of Allegiance. Have the words “On Pretzels We Chew” printed on the dollar bill. Have school children bow their heads and eat a pretzel before class begins each day. Force your local school district to start teaching high school biology students that all living things are descended from pretzels.

Only then will Auntie Anne’s power become evident to you once more.

- God

Dear God,

Something I’ve never understood is how the same people who say that the Bible ought to be literally interpreted as the word of God can then turn around and say, when their religious claims don’t seem to make sense, that God works in mysterious ways. If you are truly mysterious in the way that you work, God, then why would you go around writing books that state literally and directly what your agenda is and what you want other people to do about it? That’s not very mysterious, is it?

So, which is it, God? Do you work in mysterious ways or literal ways?

- Dorian

Dorian,

The only honest response I can give you is this: Blueberry muffin.

I say that with the utmost sincerity.

- God

Dear God,

In your comments on the relationship between Jesus and Mithras, I couldn’t help notice that you spelled “quesStion” with two s’s. Is this some kind of ancient spelling or are you not as infallible as many people think?

- Atheist Jew

Atheist Jew,

I am as infallible as many people think, and that’s the problem. Many people think many different things about how infallible I am. It was one of my mistakes to allow free will to apply in the determination of such theological matters. That in itself indicates some degree of infallibility on my part, some might say. Others would merely note that I work in mysterious ways.

The truth, or one version of it, is that I meant to type quesstion instead of question. Why? It’s a divine mystery. It may appear, to those who are uninitiated in the complexities of theological discipline, to be an accidental slip of a cosmic keyboard, but, given that I am the divine creator of the entire universe, those in the priestly know understand that the extra S was there for a reason. The religious studies department at Stanford University will be holding a conference on the matter next year.

Besides, your question uses an apostrophe to attempt to indicate a plural, when in fact, such punctuation is meant to refer to a possession. Take the mistaken punctuation out of your own eye before attempting to pluck an apparent typographical error out of the all-seeing eye of the Lord Thy God!

- God