Thou Shalt Not

I was thinking today about how I was raised on a whole list of "Thou Shat Nots'

These were all grounded in the following (simple version):

8 shalt nots you will note if you pay attention to such things. These were all hanging in classrooms and churches. All this was gobblydeegook to a young child who had to learn them all for her First Communion and tell the holy priest what each meant  before she made her First Confession, the evil wee thing.

I thought God was a bossy man. Demanding all this from me. Even thinking about such forbidden actions (like disobeying my parents See Number 5) was a criminal action resulting in acres of repetitive prayers as penance after the aforesaid confession, for God, this petty tyrant, would be offended forever if I didn't seek forgiveness for each transgression.

I was one of those kids that preceded everything she uttered with the word why. You can imagine how absolutely annoying I was in asking parents and teachers to explain all the whys in the above 10 COMMANDMENTS (They always sounded like commands from a general to me). I remember the stuttering and stammering around Adultery as I pushed and pushed about how could daddy want another child's mummy.

Coveting was explained as wanting another child's toys or sweets. I had a million of those particular sins, wanting their bikes and train sets and nicer sweets than I had. I kept the priest busy every Saturday keeping track of it all.

Wanting to murder my annoying little brothers was another Big One. They drove me mad in countless ways. But even the thought of hurting them qualified as another Big One. And I thought about it a lot and had to count those thoughts and report them faithfully.

The neighbour boy would steal our balls and puncture our bicycle tires so there was no honouring happening there, let me tell you, hard as I tried and hard as I confessed my failure to do so every week.

All this to say there were no Shalts at all in my wee life. No good stuff. No guidance. No orderly 10 instructions on living in positivity. Just this heavy burden of constant sin, evidence of my own worthlessness. God was disinterested in the good stuff like hugging your baby brother when he fell and cried or sharing your biscuits with a child who never had any.

I thought the Ten Commands from this useless General were an absolute bust. And he should have tried harder with his soldier Moses who did all the chiseling and carving on the mountain top and then had to carry all that gear and big heavy stone on his back on the way back down and then yell at everyone going by that this was the way they had to live now or God would be mad at them and rain hell fire and damnation on them all lickety-split so shut up and listen you pagan heathens. 

And now in my doddery elderly condition I would condense the whole shit show of orders and neediness down to one word.

Kind. Be kind.