Beware the Day of the Gods

The gods are rich!

The earth is their footstool: Their gifts make a way for them. The gods open doors that no man can shut, and close doors that no man can open. They create and destroy the world. They ascend to the heavens; yes, they are there. They drill their way to hell and poison the waters. If I make my bed in hell, they run the place.

They kill and they give life; they feed the poor, or starve them, whatever. Who are you to judge the gods? They say, “We worked hard to become gods. Work harder! And longer. "

If you are in the presence of a god, do not eat the dainties, the foods of the gods, for are laced with poisons.

The gods execute judgement on the nations, slaying the mighty ones and shredding the children and wives as they cower in their homes, in their schools, or in their hospitals. The sand is thirsty for their blood. Do you see the gods approaching? Flee to the hills. Do not remain, for two women shall be working in the fields: The one shall be taken. The other shall be left.

Not good to be taken. To “Heaven as they say.”

Not good to be left. To the ruins below.

A man of the desert -- a man dressed in black -- appears and takes her as a sex slave. The gods have made her a gift.

The gods make the laws and demand obedience and worship: We create banners, we make pledges and we wave flags and, of course we pay our taxes. Defy the gods if you dare. And if you live, flee to an Ecuadorian embassy.

The gods provide blinders for the sons of men. "Don’t look at Nicaragua, at Chile, at ... "

They point here and they point there: “Oh, look!” They say. "Look at Putin, look at China, look at Korea! Look at Iran!"

And while we are looking this way and that, they go away to where we do not know. Some high-mountain castle, perhaps, with wine and sex and grapes, with tables of oranges and apples and quiche. And with computers and smart phones and security cameras. And an evil god in another country sees it all, reads the text messages and the emails and laughs aloud. "Fools!” He says. “They must have mush for brains!”

Scientists speak and the gods flee. The oligarchy speaks and the gods return, and bring with them revivals of old religions, they bring back the gods whose names are too holy to pronounce.

Some say, “No, no, not those old beliefs! They are outdated!”

But in time the objectors are worn down, and the gods go on shaming them, ridiculing them, hounding them until they remain sullenly silent.

The gods forgive some of us, and we feel good.

We are the blessed. We sing, the new old songs: "God bless our land.” We chant of allegiances. We praise the brave and the strong who we sacrifice to our gods. And while we sing and pray, and chant, and die, the gods teach us another chorus, a bloody song of war that drowns out the cries the hungry, the old, the weak, the sick. It is a song that teaches us to hate, to fear and to kill.

The gods give men the gifts of fire and of poison, and with the fire they warm us, and sometimes they burn us. They swoop from the sky, howling like demons and spreading death in their wake. Mountains are leveled in their path, cities are demolished, hardly one stone left upon another. Museums are left in ruins.

We dare not displease them. The sound of their roaring is deafening. We tremble with shock and awe.

They can at times be inexplicably generous. They give gifts to men. The gifts deceive us.

They own the cattle on a thousand hills but they still want the Grande Canyon too. They collude to destroy the land. The earth trembles beneath their feet. The world reels with floods and fires, with tornadoes, earthquakes and tornadoes. Still, the gods spin the wind and the rain out of control: The climate changes at their command. Their breath melts the polar caps. The atmosphere stinks with the foul odors of their breath. We gasp.

A god in our country plots evil against a foreign land, and the evil god in that same country fondles the two buttons on his desk, one green, the other red.

Beware the Day of the Gods.  

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