The Sinner

You give religion a bad name. You wore a crucifix and spit on street people. You stole money from the collection basket at church. You made a joke of the Ten Commandments while reproaching other people for adhering to them. You had a line of little statues on your mantle—gods and goddesses you made offerings to. You committed adultery with your neighbor’s wife—they call that a “two-fer” in Hell. Almost everything you say is a lie.

Where did you get the idea that you can do that sort of stuff and still call yourself religious? Morton said: “Wake up Dan! This is the 21st century. Religion’s circumference has grown. Most importantly, following outdated ‘commandments’ is no longer mandatory. You still obey the law, but porking your neighbor’s wife is ok. It’s not laudable, but it’s ok. What is laudable is hypocrisy. Being called a hypocrite is the highest form of praise. For example, people love it when you chastise a politician for stealing the peoples’ money, and then, you get caught with your hand in the til at “Burger Bell” where you work. All you have to do is point out the magnitude of the difference between your and politician’s misdeeds and throw in the accusation that Burger Bell exploits its workers and hires illegal aliens, and boom, case closed. YOUR hypocrisy is the winner, and God will forgive you. Anyway, all of us are always pretending to be something we’re not. Right now, I’m pretending to know what I’m talking about. Last month, I pretended I was a good husband, that I knew what I was doing at work, and, when I gave a homeless guy a dollar, I pretended I was charitable.

Any time we have to ‘think’ about what we’re doing, we’re pretending. When we don’t have to think about it, it’s genuine. It’s not an act. Otherwise, you’re just trying to act ‘right’. That’s a sure sign you are pretending and are fearful of stumbling over your lines or taking things in the ‘wrong’ direction. When your pretense becomes a habit, you forget you’re faking it and believe you’re being genuine. When the habits are religious, they take on an aura of sincerity. Unfortunately, for some poor souls the opposite is the case—the more a social gesture is performed successfully, the less sincere it seems to be. They grow anxious, even anomic, as ‘the social’ loses its intrinsic meaning and becomes a web of persuasion bound to belief—bound to what is in people’s heads—in there, not out there. Persuasion’s hook is tenuous, but ubiquitous and ever-present. Beliefs are replaced by other beliefs and things change as the consensus changes. Social order will always be social and ordered—shared and rule bound. Otherwise, it is chaos, and will accomplish its own decimation, unaware. There is . . .”

Ok, Morton, that’s enough of your bullshit for now. Shut up. I should know batter than to ask you a question about anything. The droning sound your answer makes always pushes me to the edge of sleep. We both know why I’ve chained you naked to the wall down here in my basement. Like I say every day when I come down here to feed you and empty your potty pot, “It’s for your own good.” I am your benefactor. After you ran over my cat in my driveway and showed no remorse, I knew your moral compass pointed nowhere and you needed help, and that’s what I’m doing—helping you. Someday you will be healed and walk out my front door a saved man, a man who sincerely believes what I believe and who is able persuade me they’re not lying and affecting my beliefs just to get out of here. Oh, and you need to do a better job of apologizing for killing Fluffa-Belle. “I’m sorry I killed your cat” will never be enough.