God Is Disappointed In You Page 6

  People congratulated and toasted the couple, but as they sipped their sparkling wine and ate their hors d'oeuvres, they secretly chuckled to each other that it would never last.

  The 1st Book of Chronicles

  When David was King of Israel, God wasn’t having to constantly bail Israel out the way he used to.

  So God refocused his considerable free time and energy on his new hobby: scrapbooking.

  He put the priests to work compiling thousands of tidbits for his Precious Memories scrapbook. They gathered enough of these to fill the first nine chapters of Chronicles with birth records, genealogies, and gossipy details on hundreds of people going all the way back to Adam and Eve.

  The priests tirelessly assembled volume after volume of sentimental keepsakes.

  God decided that he needed a house of his own, someplace where he could relax, keep in touch with friends, and work on his scrapbooks. A place where the priests could be kept stocked with parchment, glue and clip art.

  David had come a long way since his days of guarding sheep and playing harp for tips at the palace. He was not only king, but God’s best friend to boot. God and David were inseparable. Once he became king, David hired some movers to bring the Ark of the Covenant to his palace so he and God could be roommates. David imagined all the trouble two guys at the top of their game to get into.

  “People will probably give us matching nicknames, like ‘Thunder and Crash,’” he thought. “They’ll say, ‘There they go, Thunder & Crash.’ We’ll totally run the place.”

  God was riding the Ark into Jerusalem, sitting on his Mercy Seat, when the road suddenly started getting bumpy. The Ark began slipping around on the ox cart. One of the movers reached up to keep the Ark from falling off, but when he touched it, God immediately struck him dead. God doesn’t like people touching the Ark.

  When he heard about this, David wondered if God might not be such a great roommate, after all. So instead of moving the Ark into the palace, he stashed it in a tent where the priests could help God with his scrapbooking, and sacrifice tasty treats to him, and hopefully he wouldn’t kill anyone.

  David put together a big parade to celebrate the arrival of the Ark. There was music, burnt offerings, and free cake for everyone. Then he showed God to his tent.

  “I thought I was going to live with you,” God said.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t like that,” David replied, “I snore, and I’m always walking around the palace naked. Trust me, you’ll be much happier in your own place.”

  But God was not happy. God hated camping. He wanted a palace of his own like David’s. So he told David that he should have his son Solomon build him a nice, spacious temple.

  “Then I can get down to some serious scrapbooking!” God told himself.

  Meanwhile, David spent most of his time away from home fighting wars. In the middle of all his fighting, David decided to take a census, which really ticked God off for some reason.

  “Maybe this is a chance to show David who’s really in charge,” God wondered.

  To teach him a lesson, God gave David a choice of three punishments: either Israel could suffer three years of famine, three months of losing battles, or three days of God’s bare-knuckled, no-holds-barred wrath.

  Hoping to get the punishment over with as soon as possible,

  David chose the three days of divine wrath. In just 72 hours, God managed to wipe out seventy thousand people. David was so distraught that he ripped his clothes and poured ash on himself and begged God to stop.

  “Fine, quit your blubbering, you big baby,” God said. “I’ve got parchment which needs gluing, anyway.”

  God threw himself back into a new Creative Memories scrapbook. At this point, First Chronicles takes a break to list six chapters worth of notable people and birth records, including those of God’s favorite musicians and soldiers.

  It even gives a shout-out to some of Jerusalem’s gatekeepers.

  His wars over, his kingdom secure, David decided to spend more time at home, hanging out with the family. He rediscovered his love of music and once again took up jamming on his harp, writing songs. His son, Solomon, turned out to be musically inclined as well.

  Before he died, David gathered all the timber, gold and jewelry he’d accumulated as spoils of war over the years and gave them to Solomon along with the architectural blueprints for God’s new temple.

  “Whatever you do,” David advised his son, “don’t drag your feet on building this temple. God will get sick of scrapbooking before long. Everyone does. When that happens, trust me, he’ll be looking for reasons to be pissed off.”

  The 1st Book of Chronicles

  After Solomon was crowned king, he eagerly began construction on the temple.

  Like most rich nations, Israel was completely dependent on foreign labor. Solomon knew that in order to bring a really big construction project in under budget, you needed illegal aliens, and plenty of them. So Solomon rounded up all the immigrants in Israel and put them to work cutting stones in the quarry and carrying them to the construction site. Then he hired the best architects, artisans and interior decorators from all over the world to put the temple together and imbue it with an opulent, yet dignified, sense of elegance.

  When completed, the temple was tricked out with gold plating, bas reliefs of palm trees and jewel-studded walls. It even came with apples hanging from chains, like charms from a necklace. It had dozens of hand-washing stations for the priests, an enormous altar, and crowns and water basins, all made out of the best gold.

  For the grand opening party, Solomon slaughtered twenty thousand oxen and sheep. God was so impressed by his new house that he sent fire down from heaven, convection baking all that meat for everyone who’d come to marvel at the temple.

  Riding atop the Ark, God was ceremoniously moved into his new house. Nobody had ever seen anything quite like it. It was a true architectural marvel, and it soon became famous all over the world as the Temple of Solomon.

  During the housewarming party, one of the priests had made the egregious error of looking inside the Ark, but God was so mellowed out by the good time he was having that he didn’t even kill the guy.

  Later, that priest told his story to the others, who were positively dumbstruck.

  “You looked INSIDE the Ark?” one asked. “That’s insane!”

  “What was inside?” Another asked.

  “It was empty,” the priest shrugged, “except for a couple of stone tablets.”

  All this time, the only thing God kept in the Ark were the tablets he had given to Moses centuries before. The deal he had made with the Jews to be his people.

  “You’ve done an amazing job on the temple,” God told Solomon. “It’s just as I imagined it would be, and I love it. This is probably the happiest day of my life!

  “Solomon, can I tell you something?” God said, taking Solomon aside for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I know I can seem a little petty sometimes, demanding solid gold handsinks and apples hanging from the ceiling.

  “And I know I can be a bit of a hothead. But there’s a reason why I get so jealous. The truth is that I love these people, but sometimes I feel like they don’t love me back. And that drives me crazy. The reason the temple means so much to me is that I want it to be a place my people are proud of. I want them to be proud of me.

  “As much as I love my new temple, I would rather tear it down than see it become another museum to a forgotten god nobody takes seriously anymore. Solomon, I’ve never told anyone this before, but I don’t know what I’d do if the Jews ever stopped loving me.”

  The next morning, as people sobered up from the grand opening party, everyone was truly taken aback at how wonderful God’s temple was. Overnight, the Temple of Solomon became the beating heart of Israel.

  Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. After the initial excitement over the temple had died down, people gradually turned away from God and began once again worshi
ping foreign gods. The kings who followed began building temples to other gods, and everyone seemed to agree that they were now too rich and sophisticated to be expected to honor the deal their ancestors had made with God back when they were a homeless nation of hikers.

  God watched as he and his temple were gradually reduced to little more than a tourist trap.

  God was so heartbroken that after a while he couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed, not for miracles, not for scrapbooking, not even to save his people from foreign invasion.

  God barely even noticed as his people were conquered, first by Assyrians and then Babylonians. When the Babylonians showed up at the temple, knocked down its walls, and stole its treasure. Then they set the whole place on fire. The priests were forced to pick the Ark and all of God’s scrapbooks out of the ruins. The temple treasure, the priests, the Ark, God’s scrapbooks, and anyone who was anyone were carted off to Babylon as trophies while Jerusalem burned to the ground, leaving only the smoldering ashes of a dead nation.

  Ezra

  After conquering Judah, the Babylonians annihilated Jerusalem, tearing down the city walls, razing the Temple, stealing its treasure and forcing all its brightest, prettiest, and richest people to move to Babylon. The Jews lived in exile for fifty years before Babylon was itself gobbled up by the Persian Empire.

  The Persian king, Cyrus, didn’t see any reason why people should be forced to live in Babylon against their will, so he let the Jews return to their homeland. In fact, he picked up the bill for their return trip. What a nice young man!

  Despite this perk, hardly anyone wanted to return to the Promised Land. The whole place was in ruins, there were weeds everywhere, and they had all become accustomed to the good life in Babylon.

  Cyrus thought he could lure them back to their homeland if he rebuilt the temple. So he sent a party of Jews back to Jerusalem to rebuild it.

  This didn’t make the neighboring kingdoms very happy. The last thing they wanted was an exciting new tourist attraction in the next country over. In order to keep the temple from being rebuilt, they turned to the most devastating tactic of the ancient world:

  the letter-writing campaign:

  Dear King of Persia, Master of a Hundred Nations,

  Greetings from the Trans-Euphrates! First off, we just wanted to say how much we LOVE the Persian Empire. These are exciting times, and we look forward to many years of rewarding subjugation. Unfortunately, not everyone seems to be as on board with Persian rule as we are. We recently heard that the Jews (and jeez, I really hate to be a snitch!) are rebuilding the walls to their city. Do you know if they’re allowed to do that? I thought they were just supposed to be rebuilding their temple. It seems odd that they would be rebuilding their city walls instead. Unless, of course, they were planning some sort of revolt. Just saying. Hey, maybe that’s something you want to look into!

  Signed,

  Your loyal subjects and biggest fans

  When the king got the letter, he called a halt to all construction until the building inspector could look into it. After years of delay, when it became clear that the Jews weren’t planning a revolt, work on the temple was allowed to resume, which prompted yet another letter.

  Dearest Ruler of Heaven and Earth, Lord of the Ants and the Birds and All That,

  Hello again from the Trans-Euphrates! Hey, I just wanted to give you a heads up: we were driving through Judah last weekend, and couldn’t help but notice that the Jews are back at work on their temple. When we asked to see their building permit, they didn’t have one, but said that one was on file back in Persia. Is that true? Hate to be a stickler, but maybe they should stop work on the temple until the permit can be verified?

  Signed,

  Concerned citizens

  Work on the temple was delayed once again while the king retrieved the correct permits from the archives. Sick of being bothered by these people, the king sent them a response:

  Dear Friends in the Trans-Euphrates,

  After a long, exhaustive search, we have located the permit you requested and found it to be in working order. I’m saddened that the legality of this temple’s construction is causing you so many sleepless nights. I really don’t want this matter to weigh on your minds anymore, so from here on out, work on the temple will continue unabated, and if anyone sends me another letter or tries to stop the construction in any way, I will pull a beam out of their house and impale them on it.

  Hopefully this will finally put your concerns to rest.

  Signed,

  Your Loving Monarch

  Work on the temple continued undisturbed. The King of Persia then sent a letter to one of his Jewish scribes, named Ezra.

  Dear Ezra,

  Persia recognizes that a valued and motivated workforce is the key to a successful empire. That is why we are committed to celebrating our subjects’ unique cultures and religious beliefs.

  Unfortunately, we seem to be experiencing some challenges in convincing your people to reclaim their rich and vibrant way of life. Here in the Persian Empire, we believe that citizenship begins with education and ends with empowerment. To that end, we would like you to lead a coterie of priests, judges, and artists back to Jerusalem to rediscover old traditions, foster your religious identity, and promote your ancestral homeland as a place of inclusion and opportunity.

  To help you get started, please accept the enclosed four tons of silver, eighteen tons of wheat, and six hundred gallons of wine.

  In Commitment to Excellence Through Diversity and Empowerment,The King of Persia

  Excited to see the land he’d grown up hearing so much about, Ezra eagerly took the king up on his offer.

  Now, as any seasoned traveler will tell you, when you romanticize a place in your mind, you’re bound to be disappointed when you get there. And this is what happened to Ezra. When he finally got back to Jerusalem, he was shocked.

  The place was a wreck. The Jews who were still living there had gotten incredibly sloppy in their religious observances and nothing seemed to be done by the book. And worst of all, the men had all taken to marrying pagans. This last one drove Ezra apeshit, a point he drove home by pulling his beard right off with his bare hands.

  “Have you people learned nothing?” He screamed, chin still hurting from his beard-pull. “The whole reason God allowed us to be conquered in the first place was because we started worshiping foreign gods. And the reason we started worshiping foreign gods was because we started messing around with foreign women. Now, here we are, given a second chance after fifty years in exile, and what are you doing? You’re starting the cycle all over again!”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right,” the men shouted back. “We’ve sinned. We married foreign women, and got a little kinky with their gods. But the damage is done. We have kids with these women now. What do you want us to do about it?”

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Ezra replied. “You have to send them away. Your pagan wives, your little pagan kids. It’s a shitty thing to do, I know, but it’s your own fault for disobeying the law in the first place.”

  “What? Send them away? Now? Are you crazy? It’s raining! They can’t go out on a night like this. Besides, these are our families we’re talking about. We need time to say good-bye.”

  “Yeah!” someone else shouted, “Ever hear of closure?”

  Ezra reluctantly agreed. “All right, you can wait until the good weather returns. But then you’ve got to get rid of them.”

  The day came when the skies cleared and the sun came out.

  All the men who’d married foreign women lined their families up, gave them sack lunches, and tearfully sent them on the road out to God knows where.

  “I’m not a hard man,” Ezra explained, “but it’s my job to rebuild our people, to recreate our way of life. If I had done nothing, our blood, our customs, our religion would have been compromised and watered down until we were just another group of freeballing shepherds.”

 
; “Sometimes diversity means getting rid of people who aren’t like you.”

  Nehemiah

  Nehemiah lived a comfortable life in Persia. He was King Artaxerxes’ cup-bearer. Whenever the king got peckish, Nehemiah would bring him a tray of roast quail tongues or hand-slain gazelle. When the king asked for wine, Nehemiah would bring him a woody red or a buttery white. And whenever the king was having a bad day, Nehemiah would crack jokes or say something validating about his hair. The two men were as close as lips and teeth.

  Nehemiah was Jewish, and was excited to return to his people’s homeland, even though he’d been born and raised in Babylon. Nehemiah asked the king if he could take some vacation time to go help rebuild Jerusalem’s walls. He was such a cool boss, that the king not only let Nehemiah go, but put him in charge of the city.

  Nehemiah used this adventure to take a crack at writing his memoirs:

  The Homecoming

  by Nehemiah

  It felt good to be back home. Even though ‘home’ was someplace I’d never been before. One day I was picking out table settings, the next I was running a city. Having been a servant all my life, it felt awkward to suddenly be The Man. Speaking metaphorically, of course. Being a eunuch, I have no dick or balls worth speaking of.

  First, let me explain something to you: a city is basically a species of animal. A city without walls is like a turtle without a shell. A city without watchtowers is like a cat without eyes. A city without a gate is like a cow without a mouth.