Open Letter to God
Could you please eradicate all the poverty and starvation in the world? I’m sick being guilted into donating to the food bank at the grocery store checkout. While you’re at it, would you mind protecting the rainforest, saving the endangered animals, and abolishing war? You see… I’m very busy with my own petty problems and can’t seem to find the time for such things. I have to manage school and a job, pay bills, take care of my living, and still find time for fun. Although, I guess if I stopped having fun I might be able to find time to help with one of these things. Unfortunately God, the bigger problem is that I’m very lazy. It’s not my fault. This is how you made me – it’s your fault!
I’m sorry God, sometimes my human gets to me. You understand.
Do I understand? God, if you helped the poor, starving people, who will make my clothes, and where will American corporations outsource labor to cut costs and save their CEOs more money? If you protect the forests, where would I build my house; and what about the houses of generations to come? You and I both know the human population is expanding, and we need tropical resorts to escape to from our meaningless jobs as general contractors, or whatever we do.
God, why did you make the earth so small; or us so big?
God, this is serious stuff! Are you listening? Are you even there?
On second thought… maybe I am God. I’m talking to myself again. Do I actually want these problems fixed, or am I just repeating the generic altruism of others around me? Now I’m confused. If I fixed these problems, wouldn’t it only create problems for myself and others in my rich, affluent society? I guess this is the price we would have to pay.
But I’m comfortable where I’m at in the world. Why don’t people just take care of their own problems instead of sitting on their asses all day collecting welfare checks? COMMUNISTS! Sucking at the government’s tits… raising my taxes… just for a free ride. After all it’s them with the problem, not me, God damn it!
I really shouldn’t blasphemy myself like that. After all, maybe I’m being too hard on the rest of the world. It’s not their fault. Whose fault is it? Mine? Is it anyone’s fault at all?
This is all quite unsettling. If I want to solve the world’s vexing problems, I must create some problems of my own. Or, I can bask in my comfort, and acknowledge that I don’t care enough about these injustices to do anything about them. So far I’m not satisfied with either option.