ESSAY: Shopping for God

The other day I went shopping for a god. Sadly, I could not afford the priciest model and instead ended up getting one that, while all-knowing and all-powerful, does nothing when tragedy strikes. Little time passed before I felt the sting of buyer’s remorse, so I tried to return my god back to the store the next day. The guy behind the counter took a look at it, inserted a new pair of D-size batteries into it, and informed me that its two main features, that is to say my god being all-knowing, i.e. being aware that tragedies occur, and being all-powerful, as in being perfectly capable of stopping bad things from happening, were functioning exactly as advertised.

“But he does nothing while horrific tragedy occurs!” I exclaimed, my frustration clearly showing.

“That’s the way he’s designed,” the guy replied. “Listen, if you’re interested in the Grand Deluxe model—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, whatever you do don’t buy the Grand Deluxe!” The voice belonged to a woman in her mid-fifties, gaudy in attire and matronly in every worst possible sense of the word. Her hat looked like something conjured from the mind of Dr. Seuss and her stockings sagged as if weighted down by the noisome tenor of her own voice. None too happy, it was obvious she was returning her Grand Deluxe model. Another clerk stood behind the counter, his eyes bedeviled by his insufficiently brief encounter with her. He worked the register, doing his best to enact a speedy return.

“Why not?” I inquired.

“It’s so booooooothersome,” she said, the whine in her voice rivaling a low-flying airplane. “Always trying to do good. Always trying to help. That’s not what I signed up for. I want a god who sits there and does nothing. THAT’S the god I want, not this over-officious piece of crap.”

The other clerk rolled his eyes, his expression going undetected by the woman who was now scraping her god’s base with the tip of an atrociously long nail. She seemed to be trying to dislodge a flake of paint from it. “Cheap thing,” she muttered.

I turned away and addressed my own clerk. “So you’re actually saying people BUY the model I bought?”

He gestured toward the woman. “That’s the one she wants, pal. Folks buy it by the millions,” he said. “It’s our number one seller.”

“Well, how much more would I have to pay for a god that actually steps up to the plate, helping the afflicted, defeating evildoers, and bringing justice to the world? You know, one who would have kicked Hitler’s ass up and down the block, wiping out any chance whatsoever that the Holocaust would have even happened?”

“Again, that would be the Grand Deluxe. We’ve got a floor model I could show you but… I’m pretty sure he’s out of your price range. You know, it’s funny. You’re the first person who’s lodged a complaint over this model.”

“Wait, are you telling me that people are actually SATISFIED with their purchase of an all-knowing, all-powerful god who does absolutely nothing when, oh, I don’t know, a hardcore felon videotapes himself sodomizing a toddler, later posting the images on the Internet in hopes of luring other pedophiles to do the same?”

“We haven’t had a return yet. In fact, we’ve had nothing but rave reviews ever since we started stocking him. Check out this month’s Consumer Reports. ‘God of The Year’ they’re calling him.”

“But if I acted in such a manner, blithely ignoring evil at every turn when capable of preventing it, I’d be reviled as the most loathsome, unfeeling human being who ever walked the planet!”

“What can I say?” he replied, his face having long ago tapped some vein of jaded nonchalance.

“Good god.”

“That would be the Grand Deluxe. The good god. What you bought, well, don’t tell my floor manager, but the sales staff… we all call him ‘Harvey.’ As in Harvey the Rabbit. Not really there for you. Know what I’m saying?”

“And people buy this?!”

“Like I said: our number one seller.”

“And they’re not put off by the fact that, even though he’s aware of evil occurring and is more than capable of stopping it, he just sits back and watches it happen like bad reality TV?”

“Hey, I don’t build them; I just sell them.”

“And people don’t have a problem with that?!”

“What, are you kidding? They worship him for it.”

“Worship him?!”

“They drop to their knees in droves, my friend. Build shrines to him. Churches even.” Befuddlement overwhelmed my face. “Crazy, huh?” he replied, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.

“Unbelievable.” I stood there shaking my head, my eyes weary. Finally, I looked up at him, as he handed back to me my earlier purchase. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What god do you use?”

“My friend, like a dope peddler once told me: never, EVER use your product.”

BILL