Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy name,
I am writing this to you in anticipation that you will answer to my e-mail, for all my prayers have been in vain. My visits to the Church have yielded no result.
I have scoured all forgotten corners of Facebook to find you, all to no good. I’m assuming Instagram doesn’t bode well with you either. I must say I was curious to know what hashtags you would put on your selfies. Then, I ventured on to my last hope, Snapchat. You were not to be found there either. It seems like you share my distaste of social media, a good thread to tie our friendship by. At the very least, I am hoping that you check your e-mail frequently and will reply to this plea at the earliest.
I have been taught that you are omnipresent. I assume that you maintain some presence in the online world, to condone our behavior. My last resort, then, is email.
So, here goes, dear God, infallible God. You are up there, somewhere. I know this because I have been told so, because everybody says you are there and believes that you are there. There are a lot of rumors about you that I would like to clarify before they fester into facts. This, dear Creator, is the primary purpose with which I write to you. Greater and more absolute than any other fact is your existence. That is no rumor to me and I shan’t question that. And I write to you and consult you because there is no person who can answer my questions. I have been told that you are omniscient. So, I must ask you, and you only. Dear lord, you must forgive me if I ever offend you in my childish innocence. I have no ulterior motive. I simply wish to know.
Beyond this, I promise to maintain a reverent tone in my words that follow. I must ask you not to strike down upon me with vengeance and anger if I am too straightforward, for I don’t mean to question the unquestionable or think the unthinkable. If I sin, I will make amends by washing myself clean and taking my evil deeds out of your sight because that is what your biography, the Bible, says. But, Oh, wait! How will I take my evil deeds out of your sight, my Lord, when you can see everything? I will retreat to a state of positive suspension of critical thinking and join the world in their blind faith if you so ordain me to.
This brings me to my first question to you: did Virgin Mary really jetpack into heaven centuries ago? There is no mention of this incident in the Bible and I am discombobulated with regards to the legitimacy of this rumor. Simply everyone seems to accept it as fact. But, I am curious to know the design of the apparatus that carried this valuable cargo high into the sky. If it really happened, I must admit to your technological prowess in inventing a device so complex way before the likes of Da Vinci. If it didn’t happen, I must laugh at everybody who believes that it did before asking you why nearly everybody believes that it did.
Onwards to my next question, which is about just how strong you are. I’m assuming you are capable of doing everything and by logical extension, sustaining everything. Of your might, woefully melodious songs are sung. But, I must ask you this. Why are humans tortured by each other under your eye? If you can forgive, why don’t you just forgive? Who is all this hullabaloo for? If there is a lady you are trying to impress, I must remind you, fornication is a sin of the highest degree.
Almighty, Omnipresent, Omniscient God, you created this beautiful land. I must ask what was your motivation behind it, as if you were a painter, and the cosmos your canvas. This world is full of woe and grief, and countless miseries; where not even one person lives in peace. Why, then, do you not exercise your superior powers to remove all suffering? Why, then, do you not stop the sinner before he sins? Why, in all your perfection, is the world so imperfect?
We know all too well that you have several nicknames, dear Lord. Some people call you Buddha, some call you Jesus, and some call you Rama. I, however, prefer to refer to you as “that guy up there”. Dear upstairs neighbor, out of obligation of living in close proximity, I must tell you that on your divine creation, which is on the floor under yours, hatred exists among people of different lands. This is structured hatred. Institutions structure it, institutions that we can call the mosque or the church or the temple. We love you so much down here that we refuse to share a simple tract of land to worship you. I refer, of course, to Al Aqsa Mosque or the Temple Mount, or both.
Dear guy up there, since you are all-powerful, since you can do anything, do yourself a favor and cleanse the world of this hatred, if not in duty, and if not in benevolence, then in characteristic selfishness of humanity to save this majestic creation that is Mother Earth.
Enough with the boring talks! I understand your paucity of time. I’m certain your Inbox is overflowing with unread emails. I must come to more pressing matters now. The teacup. You must be aware of Bertrand Russell, one of your finest creations. Kudos! On face value, what he said was that we all are too stupid to disprove a loony who says that there is a teacup somewhere in Space in an elliptical orbit around the Earth. To him, I would say, “But surely, there must be an Englishman running after it” not knowing full well that he was from the Queen’s island. No, but he said that to convince people that there is a teacup in space, the loony must prove it. I have worked exceedingly hard to find this imbecile, but his whereabouts are unknown. So, I must ask you this question, my Lord. Is there a teacup orbiting the Earth that it is too small for our telescopes to locate? And, would you laugh if thousands of people started calling the teacup different names and started worshipping it? Would you, furthermore, forgive me in all your power if I called you a Teacup?
Dear lord, I must forgive on behalf of the planet at large and Bertrand Russell in specific to call you “a prosey old gentleman.”
“One is reminded of some prosey old gentleman who tells an interminable anecdote all quite uninteresting until the rather small point in which it ends.”
Having sought your forgiveness, I must confess to the pertinence of the point made by him. I must suggest that you sharpen your skills as a raconteur, so as not to put a large part of your audience to sleep. If your intention was to create life on Earth, the preface is indeed too long and wordy. What was the need of creating the numerous other planets, solar systems, and galaxies when we are sufficiently provided by the Earth? And what is it about the Earth that has piqued your interest so much that it is now the sole purpose of a man of your might.
My father in heaven, another problem that has me stymied is that of the elephant and the tortoise. One fine day, a Hindu thinker under a presumably pensive affliction said that the Earth rests on an elephant. When asked what the elephant rests on, he nonchalantly said a tortoise. When he was asked what the tortoise stands on, he requested to change to topic to something more important. God, edify me and tell me what the tortoise stands on? I hope you can answer, unlike the Hindu thinker. And, dear venerated Lord, please make a logical extension of this answer to this: If you created the Earth, who created you?
To end, dear Lord, answer a question that has baffled me all my life: what is the distinct call of the Vulpes vulpes? Put the world out of its misery and tell us what the fox says.
And may I suggest using Gmail in place of Heaven. It’s somewhat more “earthly.”
“And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask anything according to his will, he heareth us:
And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him.”
Hoping for a prompt reply,
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