When I was nine, I prayed for aliens to come. I know. Religion and aliens make for awkward bedfellows, but that’s the best thing about being nine. You can believe everything. How the aliens would hear my prayer, I didn’t know. But I guess that if they had the technology to make it as far as Earth, they could probably tune right into the prayers of a random nine-year-old kid, right?
Anyway, it didn’t matter how they got the message, only that they got it. Because the aliens were going to save the world! And here’s the clever part for a nine-year-old: they didn’t have to do anything at all, apart from show up.
Fighting a war over some arbitrary border drawn in the dirt? You’re gonna feel pretty dumb about that once the aliens come and show you how big the universe really is.
Ignoring all those African kids dying of hunger because they’re not your problem? When the aliens come and are so different and weird and, well, alien, all of humanity will suddenly feel like one big family.
Fighting over whose god is the real god? When the aliens turn up, you’ll see just how ludicrous it is to believe in one god who invested himself in one particular group of people on one tiny corner of one insignificant planet, thousands of years ago. [Read more...]