The Pope's Nightmare

The year is 2019, The Pope, Benny the XVI, is old and nearing the end of his reign as pope. It’s 3:10 am, Vatican city time, Benny has had a nightmare, as a result of which he is sitting straight up in bed, broken out into a cold sweat, hands trembling and labored breathing.
“Holy shit (pun intended)” exclaims his Excellency. “This is the third time I’ve had this damn dream that god really does exist! He knows everything I’m thinking and he’s watching everything I’m doing no matter where I am! All the bullshit that those damn Nuns threw at us as children in elementary school. All that nonsense designed to scare the crap out of us, so we never question what the church teaches no matter how stupid it is! I know its all bull shit so why am I having these nightmares?” Benny asks himself.
“Because I gave them to you!” came a voice from the far corner of the room where the Pope’s desk sets.
“Who’s there? Who are you? Father Pizzeria, if this is you, I’ll send your fat little ass to America where you will say Mass ten times a day on Mother Angelica’s Electronic Word Television Network (EWTN). I know how you hate your priestly duties; they interfere with your dabbling with, er I mean, instructing the altar boys in the finer points of man/boy love. So knock it off or you’ve sucked your last altar boy dick!” shouts the pope.
“This isn’t Fr. Pizzeria, Herr Pope. This is God. You know, the First Person of the Trinity, the One who sent his son, what do you call him this time around? oh yeah, Jesus, to suffer and die for repentance of all the sins of mankind!” says the Voice. He takes a couple of puffs off a cigar and continues, “You know something, the first time I heard the story of how I sent my son down to earth to atone for man’s sins I laughed and asked myself how cruel a Being you humanoids must think I am to send my Son to earth to suffer such ignominy - for what? Nothing has changed; shit everything got worse!” said the voice from the shadows. “No, I never sent my son, or anyone else, to earth to suffer for yours and everyone else’s sins. You folks are going to need to take care of those yourselves,” the voice said coldly.
Suddenly, a sense of fear and unrest comes over Pope Benny and he nervously asks, “Would you please show yourself?”
“Why, you planning on shooting me with the 9MM you’ve got in your nightstand?” the voice asks jokingly. With that, the intruder gets up from behind the desk and steps into the light of the lamp on the night stand to reveal a middle aged man sporting a two day growth of beard, wearing cut off jeans, worn sneakers and a T-Shirt that has a message written on the front; Don’t Blame God For Religion!
“Wait a minute, you don’t look like God! You look like a middle aged, lower class bum from the poor side of town. You’re definitely not the god I know from the Bible!” Benny sneers!
“The Bible! Come on Benny, you know the Bible’s not what you boys in the religion business claim it is – ‘the word of God’ I think you call it. Theologians and bible scholars discredited it decades ago when they admitted that it simply told the same story of redemption with the same characters, who have different names because they came from different times and cultures. The ancient Egyptian god Horus was one of the earliest to save mankind by being sent to earth by his father, the Egyptian god Osiris (who was supposed to be me) and was born of a virgin. The stories of Horus and Jesus are nearly identical, and are certainly the same story! The early writers of what you call the New Testament borrowed liberally from the stories of Horus to end up with a novel about your concept of Me and My relationship with you. That is all well and good, but in no way did I help your ancestors write that Book. Those writers and the religious leaders at the time the New Testament was begun to be written, were aware of Horus, as well as another mythological figure named Mithras who was a Roman god said to be sent to earth to save mankind 75 years before Jesus was supposedly born, and they borrowed generously from both stories to come up with their own story of God’s relationship with His creation. Unfortunately, when you compare Horus’ life with Jesus’ life, you realize that you are reading the same story! They are both myth – they did not exist.” God said.
“B-b-but we can’t tell people that! What will happen to the great religions of the world; to your chosen Faith, the Catholic church?” stammers Benny.
“My what?! Whoa Pal, I don’t have a favorite church! I don’t play favorites. I respect some churches more than others – especially the ones who care for the poor and address the spiritual needs of all, not just the rich and powerful. I have no need for wealth and I have all the power you or anyone else can handle! More, much more, actually, so don’t tell me that you and your rag tag army of child abusers are my favorite church! You don’t want to make me angry, Benny, and I must warn you, you’re getting very damn close!” God states.
“You build new, glorious churches and schools in the rich suburban areas while, at the same time, you close churches and schools in the poor sections of the cities where the residents desperately need your help and the hope that your help can give them. No, Benny, I sat by idly for too long! Now I’m telling you in no uncertain terms; change the direction of your church from one that serves the rich and powerful to something that I want, no, expect, from a church that hitches its wagon to my name; be one that serves the wants and needs of those who can’t fend for themselves and, in addition, address the spiritual needs of the rich and powerful for, in that area, the rich may be more needy than the poor,” God says.
“But you can’t expect me to give up everything I have and follow your demands! That just not fair!” Benny exclaims.
“Fair! Oh you don’t want me to discuss fair, Benny! Is it fair that you live in the lap of luxury, a king in his own country, while the poor, the weak, the downtrodden of your Faith continue unaided by you, your church, your wealth. As Pope and leader of the Catholic Church, you should meet the needs of all who require your help; not just those who can pay for it and in return believe they have earned, even purchased a seat in heaven. Sorry, Benny, you’ll get no sympathy from me” God explains.
“What about those Butt-heads in those Mega Churches who are always condemning anyone who they feel need condemning? They are always speaking for you! Are you going to give them notice, too?” the Pope asks.
“I already did. I spoke with them at the same time I spoke with you.”
“How the hell did you do that?” Benny asked.
“I’m God, remember. I can touch one mind at a time or thousands at once. It’s a little tricky but, with practice, I manage quite well. After all, I have been here forever” God says.
“So Ben, the choice is yours. Loose the wealth, the Palace, the gold, everything and start acting like the leader of a church and not the manager of a casino! Remember, I created every living thing and I love everything I created: the good, the bad and the ugly. Don’t put words in my mouth that don’t belong there. I love everyone and I expect those humans who profess their love for me and say they will follow me to do just that. Take care of my children and give them aid and comfort when they suffer and are away from me. For to say that you follow me is to do no less. Leave the condemnation to me, for only I know what’s in a heart and why a person does what he/she does. Vaya con Dios, Benny. Walk with me or, if you choose, without me. But remember, the chips will fall where they may and they won’t give a damn if you’re a Pope or a Plumber!” And with that, God was gone, leaving Benny a bit afraid but mostly still incredulous.
“That was the worse nightmare I ever had! Well, no, not as bad as the one where I lost that billion dollars in a card game with Rick Warren; but close! I have to stop eating Italian sausage and green pepper pizza as a night time snack before I turn in. Still, that was a hell of a bad dream. I mean, God wouldn’t talk that way to the Pope, the most prestigious and powerful religious figure on earth! What the hell am I talking about; I don’t even believe in god! I’m going to call the kitchen and tell them to send up a pot of coffee. I’ve had enough sleep for one night. Besides I wouldn’t want to have that dream again. Nooo sir!”
He gets out of bed and goes over to the desk where the nightmare visitor sat, turns on the desk lamp and reaches for the intercom to buzz the kitchen. Suddenly he notices something in the ashtray. Cigar ashes…

I got my information for this blog from the website “Religious Tolerance” and an article by Tom Harpur from his book “Pagan Christ” Here is the link to the website and to that article- http://www.religioustolerance.org/chr_jcpa5b.htm