by Charles Memminger
Monday, November 4, 1996
HERE'S a computer tip: If you want to e-mail God, make sure no one is looking over your shoulder. All you'll get is grief. E-mail a little prayer to
God for Mr. CoolI had read a wire story about an Israeli internet company which accepts e-mail messages to God. Copies of the e-mail are taken every day to Jerusalem's Wailing Wall, which, according to tradition, is where God checks his mail. With the advent of the internet, the Wailing Wall has suddenly become sort of a hot-link to Heaven.
Since I always like to stay on the cutting edge of technology and theology, I figured I'd drop God a note. So I sat down in front of an internet-capable computer in the newsroom, zipped through the World Wide Web and soon found myself on the Virtual Jerusalem home page. It's a pretty flashy page; lots of color graphics, information on Jewish holidays, news from the Middle East and information on some contests with prize offers. That seemed a little odd. I mean, when you e-mail God you're looking for salvation, not a toaster oven.
I clicked "Send A Prayer" and the form for submitting e-mail to God came up on the screen. Suddenly, everything I was going to pray for seemed kind of silly. I mean, I assume that if there is a God, a prayer from Hawaii reaches him at the same speed as a scrap of e-mail crammed into a crack of the Wailing Wall. That would only be fair. But what if that's not the case? What if the Wailing Wall is a better way to reach God, sort of like MCI's Friends and Family service vs. Sprint's Dime-a-minute deal?
I started typing my prayer: "Dear God, send me enough money so I can paint my house." Then I thought, this could be a one-shot deal so I shouldn't hold back. If I'm going to paint the house, I might as well build an addition first. So I started typing that. Then I thought, why should I fix up that old house. Why not just ask for a new house all together. So I started typing. Then I thought of all the trouble in the Middle East and how many people there don't have houses. I felt guilty. So I thought I should just ask for my health, a long life, safety and a new car.
But that too seemed kind of selfish. Man, sending e-mail to God was harder than it seemed.
So I decided, that since this was my first e-mail to God, I should keep things simple. I should think of the big picture. So I wrote: "How about let's just have one day where everyone gets along, just to see what it's like."
"Oh, God, that's so schmaltzy," a reporter sitting next to the computer said.
"It's rude to read a guy's e-mail to God," I said. "What would you ask for, cool guy?"
"I'd say, hey, we're doing our jobs, why don't you do yours," he said.
I typed that in the message box and added the guy's name.
"Hey, don't send that!" he said.
Too late. I clicked the mouse.
There, you just ticked off God. I hope you're happy.
"I didn't write it, you did," he said.
You said it. I was just the messenger. Hey everyone, Mr. Cool just sent a nasty note to God. I'd stay away from his desk for a while if I were you.
I went back to my desk. Frankly, I felt bad. I didn't really send the message to God I had wanted because everyone was looking over my shoulder.
A few minutes later another reporter came up.
"The computer's frozen. They said you were the last one to use it. Come fix it," she said.
It's frozen because Mr. Cool sent a nasty e-mail to God, I said. Have him unfreeze it. It's his fault. Personally, if I were you, I'd use another computer in another part of the room.
So, there you go. Sending e-mail to God is not something to do lightly. If you'd like to try anyway, here's the address: http://www.virtual.co.il. Just make sure no one's looking over your shoulder.
