Dear God, the thesis of my sermon to you this evening is: Everything should be easy. But let’s get the image out of the way, and then I’ll unleash my profundities.
You’ve been born as a baby human, so you know that we humans do not need to craft our own body parts. It is thrilling to enter this world; but how tedious would it be to have to assemble yourself from scratch!—immediately after climbing out of the womb, you’d have to search for the correct ingredients to manufacture your flesh; and then you’d have to fuse various supplies to create your arms, legs, and head.
My point is that, in reality, it’s easy to achieve a body: all you have to do is lure two humans to kiss; then the tadpole enters the space pod, and death comes alive. Howbeit, even prior to conception, death was alive: that’s why Saint John made Jesus say: “Before Abraham was, I am.” (8:58) – The zygote is Jesus preceding the fetus of Abraham. Everything should be this easy.
But let’s say that you want to make a movie. Look how hard it is: you have to hire actors, cameramen, editors, screenwriters, naysaying studio executives, and catering services. Additionally you have to rent old-fashioned automobiles, and re-paint all the grass of the landscape. It should be easier than this. You should simply be able to say “Let there be light,” and there should be light. You shouldn’t need to hire a director of photography.
I was skateboarding down the sidewalk today, and I saw an albino squirrel fighting a kiwi strawberry juice box. Being albino, the squirrel was pitch blonde; and being a kiwi strawberry juice box, its package was silver. Now consider how difficult it was for the squirrel to get any liquid out of that box: the poor creature had to wrestle with it all night long before the box yielded up its blessing (Genesis 32:24-29). That’s why I think that juice boxes should be stamped with a message for all nocturnal fiends: Beware of attacking this beverage, for the day breaketh!
And the pastime of bodybuilding was ill-devised. Think how easy it is to eat a plate of buttered pasta with a glass of red wine for lunch. It should be equally easy to lift a pair of dumbbells. But I can’t lift dumbbells—those things are heavy. This constitutes a flaw in the creation of our world. For things should be easy, not difficult.
I’ll stop after this last complaint about airplanes and boats. Let’s say that I live in the Midwestern USA, but I wish that I lived in Paris, Berlin, Lisbon, New York, and Siberia. First of all, because of the incompetent design of spacetime, I cannot exist in all of these places concurrently: I must visit them one at a time, like a regular mortal. Plus, to do so, I must flag down a taxicab, because I am afraid of flying. I also fear the ocean. And the beautiful languages that I hear being spoken in each of these different places are as unintelligible to me as a tinkling cymbal (I Corinthians 13:1), because I lack charity.
Hatred is easy. Why shouldn’t love be easy? I’m not saying that love should be free—although that would be fine, too. It’s just as easy to give love away as it is to charge a price that all can afford. Because everyone should be able to buy as much love as they want.
Thus, the end of the matter is this, O dearest God. You should have given the poor people a little more money when you created them. You made them slightly too poor. And poverty makes life difficult; whereas, according to my sermon’s thesis, life should be easy. (We should want to live, otherwise the Evil One’s stock price totally skyrockets.)
Additionally, you created rich people with too much money. It is cruel of you to shackle them with such a large duty—for, with much money comes much responsibility: one must manage one’s money, which is an exhausting chore. Amen.