If you are reading this—which of course you are because you’re reading this—try not to look like your reading it. Play it cool. Be nonchalant about it. Read on, but don’t let on that your reading on. Even if you are alone, be cool. You are never alone. And that is what I need to tell you.
God is watching. No, seriously. God is watching. He is watching you all the time, no matter what you are doing. The Guy never blinks, and never looks away. Creepy isn’t it? But don’t let on. You might piss Him off.
You see He wants you to act in a certain way, to love Him and to love your neighbor, but He wants this to be genuine. Don’t love Him because He tells you to love Him. That’s not real love, that’s just following orders. So you have to love Him, but you have to love Him freely. The fact that you can’t link “have to” with “freely” is the really hard part of this. And that is why He is watching you.
Two psychologists at the University of British Columbia have proven that people behave more nicely when they are being watched. This is true even if the eyes watching them aren’t real. They tacked a poster of a person over a charity jar and found that people donated three times as much money when the poster was up than when it wasn’t. Which proves that unless someone is watching or at least we feel like someone is watching we would be a lot worse than we are. And we are pretty bad as it is. Scary, isn’t it?
Maybe this is why people hang posters of their gods in their homes, or put god dolls around their rooms? Maybe this is why religions teach that God is watching us all the time? Do they know that unless we feel watched we would behave like wild murderous beasts? Do they know that we would be less apt to donate money to religious causes and institutions if we didn’t believe God was watching?
I think it is. But I can’t be sure. And ever since I read the article about the British Columbia experiment in THE WEEK (October 24, 2008) I have felt the eyes of God on me everywhere. Even in the bathroom. Weird.
But here’s my problem: I know God is looking, I don’t know which God is looking. I know I’ve got to behave and to love God, but I can’t tell which God to love and obey.
I’m afraid that if I think it’s YHVH and it turns out to Allah, I’m screwed. Or if I think it’s the Catholic Jesus and it turns out to be the Southern Baptist Jesus, I’m doomed. I’m hoping it is the elephant headed God Ganesha because he seems so much more pleasant than the others, but who knows? And if you did know and then just loved God because you knew you had to, then your love wouldn’t really be love at all, and you would be doomed anyway.
That’s why I don’t want God to see you reading this. Pretend you don’t know that God is watching, and pretend that your love is spontaneous and genuine and not just a ploy to avoid burning in Hell for all eternity. Oh, and pray that God is really really stupid so He won’t catch on. Oh, and pray that He doesn’t really hear your prayers so He won’t know you know.
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1 comment:
what if all gods are One?would you worry somewhat less?
Can he see passed lead walls? Does that mean he has better vision, that can even surpass x-ray?
I think our behaviour is based on the importance we give he/she/it who is observing us, not just the plain fact of being watched.
Take for example a special ocasion. You go over for dinner to your girlfriends parents house. He is a well known doctor. She, is an Interior Designer, for high star hotels.
You go with a lynnen suit. You give a firm hand shake. You eat, wipping your mouth with the handboarded napkin, after each bite. You are cautious, not to speak with your mouth full, or to say anything impolite or uncomfortable. You laugh softly,"amused" by their out-of-date jokes.
The night is finished. And you offer to wash up. It is the least you can do. You thank them for dinner, and leave with a steady stride ad your head well high, in direction of your car/public transport.
You get home. You through your suit onto the unmade bed and drop dead on the couch. You have just left your girlfriend home. Your mother has forgotten to wash up the plates(it's an alzheimers sideaffect) so you decide you'll leave it for tomorrow, seeiming you have already, placed your gluteus in it's regular spot. You snack on a bag of chips, already open on the coffee table. You laugh out loud at the T.V. screen, with your mouth open. You scratch under the pants zipper whith your left hand, while your right search for something entertaining on cable T.V; while trying not to slouch when thinking about the horrible day ahead of you tomorrow. It is Monday. You hate MOndays. Everyone hates Mondays'
Behaviour rather changes in front of those who we find important. Those whose judgemente we can later find meaningful.
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