Oh, I see it’s you again. Don’t you have anything better to do?

What can be better than talking to you, God? It’s a privilege, an honour, a joy, an inexpressible—

Alright, no more of the flattery.

But God, every prayer that goes up to you, from churches all over the world, is pure, unqualified praise. If you don’t call that flattery—

Alright, none of that impertinence. What do you want.

God, an idea has just struck me—

Too many ideas strike you. What should strike you is a thunderbolt bringing you to your senses.

Hey, God, I like your sense of humour!

What great idea are you going to tell Me now.

God, it’s about Henry Ford.

Henry Ford? What on earth—and in heaven—can I have to do with Henry Ford?

Well, he was the first to mass produce cars, and revolutionise the world of transportation.

I know that.

God, I was just thinking. Suppose you do what Ford did—

You’re proposing that I mass produce cars?

Well, God, in a way you have been a mass producer, only it’s human beings instead of cars, all made to your image.

What are you trying to get at.

God, whenever Ford found a defect in the cars that were rolled out of his factories, you know, a defect that could cause an accident, bring pain and suffering—’

So?

Well, he recalled the cars. He got them back, so that the defect could be looked into, and the car made safe.

So?

God, you know that some of the human beings you have created are really bad, worse than any defective car. Think of Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot. And before that, Caligula, Nero, Vlad the Terrible. We have some very bad examples right in our midst, corrupt leaders who loot their own countries, living in luxury while their people suffer. God, suppose, like Ford, you recall these very bad models of your creation, do some retooling and tinkering, and make them decent human beings? Or if you can’t, make sure that such bad specimens, who are really an insult to your handiwork, never appear on the scene again. So God, what about doing a Henry Ford? Hey, God, are you still there? God?

God is tired of listening to your jabberings. He has sent me in His stead.

Who are you?

I’m one of the angels in Heaven, of a slightly lower order than Saint Michael or Saint Gabriel, whose task is to relieve God of the tedium of having to listen to supplicants like you.

But wait, didn’t God say in the Bible that he would always listen? In fact, he even encouraged supplicants to persevere! Remember the story of the importunate widow and the judge? In the end he gave in, simply because he couldn’t stand her any more! So—hey, Angel Whatever-Your-Name-Is, are you still there?

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...