God’s Levite Predicament
Scene: A dusty, makeshift campsite just outside Eden. God, now an evicted tenant of His own creation, sits with a scroll of Leviticus spread out in front of Him. He scratches His divine head, trying to make sense of His own rules.
God: (muttering) "Alright, let’s see here... No blending fabrics... Check. My robe’s pure cotton. Not exactly high fashion, but rules are rules. Next... no shellfish."
He looks longingly at a small pile of oysters he mysteriously conjured out of habit.
God: "Farewell, my briny delights." He zaps the oysters into oblivion, sighing heavily.
Voice from the Heavens: "You literally wrote that, You know."
God: "Oh, shut up. Who asked You?"
He moves to another section of the scroll.
God: "Ah, here we go: 'Anyone who curses their father or mother shall be put to death.' Bit harsh, but fair. Wait a minute... I don’t have parents. Does that mean I—?"
He picks up a lightning bolt, nervously spinning it in His hand.
God: (panicking) "Alright, no cursing parental figures. Easy fix. Next... ‘Don’t trim the edges of your beard.’"
He conjures a mirror and examines His clean-shaven face.
God: "Blast it! I thought I was going for timeless sophistication, but apparently, I’ve been breaking My own law for eons!"
Grabs a handful of dirt and divine water, smears it on His chin, and magically grows a massive, unruly beard.
God: "There. Happy now?"
A passing angel stifles a giggle. God scowls but continues reading.
God: "'Do not wear clothes of wool and linen woven together.' Oh, come on! Who was I even aiming this one at?!"
He conjures a magnifying glass and inspects His robe again, muttering suspiciously.
God: "Looks like cotton, but could this be... a polyblend?! What even counts as linen these days?"
He tosses the robe aside in frustration and wraps Himself in a massive fig leaf, which He immediately regrets.
God: "It’s drafty. I should’ve thought this through."
He reaches a particularly bizarre section.
God: "‘Anyone who touches the carcass of an unclean animal will be unclean until evening.’ But I CREATED pigs! Does that mean I’ve been ritually unclean since, what, Day Six?!"
God slumps in defeat, clutching His scroll. A nearby goat wanders into the scene and bleats sympathetically.
God: "At least I didn’t say anything about goats... oh no."
Flipping furiously through the scroll, He finds the infamous “do not boil a goat in its mother’s milk” command.
God: "Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? You know what? Forget this. I’m the Alpha and the Omega, and I hereby declare these rules—"
He looks over His shoulder, paranoid, as though He’s being watched.
God: "...Subject to interpretation."
The goat bleats again, clearly unimpressed. God glares at it.
God: "You’re lucky I don’t have time to explain context to you."
Fade out as God tosses the scroll aside and grabs a harp, deciding a musical career might be less complicated.
