Religion has almost always been more about going through robotic motions than about lifting one’s soul to the One Above. The world over, we see people engage in pagan substitutions for true worship to Him.

Is He impressed? I don’t know, of course – and not just because the Bible states that God’s thoughts are as far from ours as the East is from the West. I don’t know because if I knew the mind of God, I wouldn’t fear Him. If I didn’t fear Him, it is a pretty safe bet that I’d do whatever the hell I please. Also, if I knew the mind of God, I wouldn’t ask Him for help. After all, knowing someone’s mind is on the same level with being an intellectual equal – and who takes help or advice from an intellectual equal?

So, no – I don’t know the mind of God. Nor does anyone else.

However, try telling that to the ritualistic religion freaks of this world. For them, God is some kind of half-witted alien entity into whose good books one can bribe oneself with puerile temporal offerings. They probably hope to lull the Man Upstairs into the same drone-like state of mindlessness that they work themselves into with their waving, chanting and head-nodding. God knows it has mesmerized ME into somnolence at many a church and temple event. ‘Sleeping Gods don’t bite’ seems to be the logic – so let’s all sing him a lullaby and give him some confectionary to chew on. Sugar improves OUR moods, so why not His?

No, I don’t know the mind of God, and I don’t know what turns Him on and what doesn’t. All I know is that I have this recurring vision that makes me squirm in mortification. It pops up on my mind’s screen every time I attend a church do, puja or, for that matter, any format of Upward-directed mass petition.

The vision is of a bearded Geneva psychiatrist, long in tooth in age and experience, responding to the call of a group of schizophrenic, bi-polarly disordered or otherwise fuse-blown inmates at his facility. This bunch has summoned him for any, all or a combination of the following reasons:

1. They want to tell him what a NICE doctor he is, because they feel that currying his favour will somehow get them out of the mess they’re in

(Do we really think that treating God like a snotty kid who will do his chores if we give Him a pat on the head is an option?)

2. They want him to pass on ‘Hi, how’re you, I’m just fine, sorry-for-pooping-in-your-soup-while-you-were-with-us’ messages to previous inmates who got discharged

(I think it’s logical to assume that the dead take no messages, forgive nobody, or do much of anything other than stay dead)

3. They want him to fix it so that the tummy/foot/tooth doesn’t ache so much anymore

(Can we agree on the premise that pain exists for a reason, and that we need to find that reason to ensure it doesn’t recur? If God would take our aches and pains away, we wouldn’t survive as a human race)

4. They want him to either discharge or lobotomize that punk down the hall who keeps stealing their rationed ciggies

(If He is God of all, what makes us assume that He will cook someone else’s goose just because we don’t like his/her looks? What if he/she made the same request about US?)

5. They want him to rearrange things so that they get more dessert in the lunch hall than any of the others

(Again – if He is God of all, what makes us assume that, on a planet with limited resources, He will hand us more than our fair share if it means taking them away from someone else?)

6. They want him to take them home – but not at the cost of all the benefits they’re enjoying in the nuthouse

(It’s the old conundrum that nobody’s found a satisfactory retort to – everyone wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die)

7. They want him to know that they know how he runs his practice and that they approve of his methods, but that they have certain suggestions for improvement

(Yeah, right. The day God needs the approval or self-serving suggestions of a terminally flawed race is the day when He’s not worth worshipping anymore)

To manipulate him into giving in to their demands, they reverently hand him bits of leftover food and knickknacks they have made from stuff they don’t want anyway. They also sing him some droning madhouse ditties that feature him as a caring father who will NEVER let his kiddies down, no matter how out of their gourds they are.

I envision this seasoned observer of human lunacy nodding solemnly, agreeing to everything, clapping warmly to their nuthouse renditions, thanking them for their worthless gifts and encouraging them to share more – because sharing their twisted ideas of reality is so THERAPEUTIC, and what else can they and he do anyway?

They’re never going to be cured of their delusions, and he can’t give them what they want because what they want doesn’t factor in the Big Picture – the more-or-less smooth running of a mammoth mental institution literally crawling with similar cases…

Can we picture ourselves dispassionately in such a light when we light that votive taper, plunk that piece of ‘prasad’ down in front of a man-made idol that represents nothing more than another created being? Can we really LISTEN to ourselves as we mumble the rosary, chant a mantra or go ‘Ooooooooom’?

What makes us think that Someone worthy of being called God can be manipulated, cajoled or challenged into doing what we want? Folks, it’s just us – us trying to change our destiny with a hocuspocus routine that some half-witted clergy has approved as The Real Thing!

What are we left with if we abandon our mad rituals, self-serving and short-sighted beseechings and pathetic bribes to the One who made and owns everything? Again, I find the most profound answer to this question in the Bible – anonymously tucked away in entire chapters dedicated to rituals and more rituals. In the entire book, these are among the few words I can wholeheartedly believe as being God’s own -

“Be still – and know that I Am God….”