Read Online The Story of God by Chris Matheson - Free Book Online

began with what was
good:
Anything that lived in water was fine, unless it didn’t have fins or scales—in other words, if it wasn’t a fish. In which case it was bad—no, that wasn’t a sufficient word—he knew the right word—anything else was an abomination. (Lev. 11:12) Lobsters, for example? Abominations. Crabs? Abominations. Anything that lived in a shell?
Abominations!
“Why did I make them?” God briefly wondered. “Did I make them? I don’t seem to have made reptiles—is it possible that Satan made reptiles
and
lobsters?” God decided that it was not possible: He had made everything, and if some of the things he’d made were abominations to him—well, what of it? He liked what he liked and hated what he hated. (Still, the question—could Satan have created lobsters?—did stick in his mind for a while.)
    God moved on to birds. “You may eat any bird you want!” he told Moses, then quickly added, “other than eagles, vultures, hawks, ravens, and bats.” (Lev. 11:19) There was an awkward pause. Had he just called bats birds? He had, yes. That was embarrassing. Obviously God knew that bats were mammals. What kind of God wouldn’t know
that?
He’d simply been talking too fast and out it came: “Bats are birds.” Moses didn’t say anything, he just stood there, looking down. “What should I say?” God wondered. “Should I say, ‘That thing I just said about bats being birds? Obviously that’s not correct, bats are mammals, of course. The
point
I was trying to make was, you know, don’t eat them. They’re abominations.’” No, it sounded weak, not like something an all-knowing and all-powerful creator would say. Could he say, “I was kidding when I said that bats were birds,” or “I was just testing you, Moses?”
    God decided not to say anything, to simply move on. So what if he’d called bats birds? It was meaningless. He moved on to insects, most of which he regarded as abominations. He’d made a lot of them (especially beetles for some unknown reason), but hemainly thought they were repulsive. None of them were good to eat, God proclaimed—before remembering a few exceptions. “You may eat locusts, crickets, and grasshoppers,” he announced to Moses. (Lev. 11:22) God had tried eating each of these bugs and found them to be surprisingly tasty and nutritious and crunchy.
    God imagined his mental checklist: Lobsters and shrimp? Abominations. Bat-birds? Same. (“Wrong! Bats aren’t birds, I know that!”) Crickets? Good eating. Was that it? No, he had some other regulations: “Don’t eat mice,” he finally got around to telling Moses. He had not actually seen any of his people eating mice, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Mice were … unclean. God liked things that were clean—like grasshoppers. The idea of his people eating filthy little mice sickened him. “Don’t eat moles either,” God told Moses (Lev. 11:29)—revolting little eyeless freaks. And lizards—do not eat lizards—they are abominations.
    God really hated unclean things like mice and, honestly? … menstruating women. (Lev. 12:2) That was not what he and Moses were talking about, he knew that, but still—menstruating women were so damned unclean. God hadn’t trusted women from the start, but this whole monthly bleeding thing—it was awful. (Not long after this, God made clear what he’d always felt was obvious: “Women are worth 60% of what men are worth,” he told Moses, thinking to himself as he said it, “which is being
generous.”)
(Lev. 27:3–4) God didn’t want to get stuck on the whole “menstruating women are unclean” thing—even though it was true—so he moved on to medical matters for a moment.
    Existing outside time and space, as God obviously did, he had a