Thursday, December 29, 2005
Cults for Dummies: Show Some Respect
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Please tell us: Where is the 3,000 year old Pyramid erected to Sun Myung Moon? Where is the official L. Ron Hubbard Sphinx? And why aren't they building a Parthenon for Madame Blavatsky or Aleister Crowley?
We'll tell you why: Because wanna be gods are a dime a dozen.
Yesterday my daughter The Heir and I took a little stroll through a neighboring village. It was not quite as posh as the village we live in, and that made it more exciting.
In this village is a store with charming items for your home decor. In one glass case, fairies, Celtic jewelry, mermaids. In another, wizards and dragons. In another, fossils and geodes. In yet another, a lovely collection of repro Egyptian artifacts. Statues of Isis, Osiris and Horus. Scarabs. Holy cats on thrones. Mummy sarcophagi.
The Heir was fascinated and asked all kinds of questions about these awesome bored gods. I'm not the most knowledgeable about this pantheon that lasted thousands of years and spawned several Wonders of the World, but I told her what I could.
Got me to thinking.
How very disappointed Isis and Osiris and Horus must be, to see modern humankind throw away money and devotion on other human beings. Because, sorry, but with the sole exception of the Dalai Lama, I can't buy the divinity of anyone breathing air.
Okay, you Christians are affronted. Jesus breathed air and presided over grand cathedrals decked in poinsettias, in which little children behaved like adults and a pontiff wearing a huge crown waved.
Seriously. I love Jesus. I think he proved his stripes. Like Horus, he died and then got up again, presumably because there was work to be done and he didn't trust the 11 remaining disciples to get it right. (Especially as they quickly marginalized both Mary the Mother and Mary the Magdalene.)
But the exception proves the rule. A Jesus comes along every 2,000 years or so. But people claiming to be Jesus, or specially chosen by Jesus, come out of the woodwork like termites.
Why would anyone worship these humans, when perfectly good gods and goddesses are sitting in their heavens counting the stars? Isn't that disrespectful?
Poor Isis! She's a little gilded statue in a glass case, sale priced at $69.99, while Scientology is racking up millions in donations and parents feed their kids poisoned Kool-Aid in the jungle.
Jesus proved his stripes, but so did Isis, Osiris, and Horus. We still have the writings they inspired, the temples they inspired, and the list of deeds that lift them from humanity to deity.
And yet people persist in calling these awesome gods "myths" in the face of the adoration of prior generations. On the other hand, any bearded guru can get his meals paid for by sycophants who prefer their gods to have toileting needs.
If you ask me, there's something wrong with this picture. That's why I started this web site, and thank you very much but I don't want a cult following. If you have an urge to worship Anne the Goat Judge, please curb it and go commune with the fairies and their awesome leadership.
Or, by all means be my guest and erect an altar to Isis. Sedna. Chongdanga. Tiki. The Thunderbirds. Atlanteans. In this case, older is better, and if they sweat and pick their noses, they can't be gods.
THE HUMBLE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS