We rant and rave about charismatic preachers of prosperity, flagrantly flaunting their flamboyant extravagances.
Only one thing has changed from our childhood, though. Ma levels asiyana.
Remember the churches, temples and cathedrals of our youth? Fathers in robes, stained-glass windows, offering bowls filling with coins no one could eat. The massive golden crosses, inset gems winking like drops of blood.
Those temples, they were like giant fists built to beat us down, to take our spirits and chain them to worldly fears. The priests told us we were flawed and then promised to heal us.
All we needed to do was pay and pray.
Coins for our absolution, calluses for our knees. But remember how splendid the robes were? That’s what we paid for.
It is the same dynamic repeated through the ages, yet it’s only reached a new dimension through the lavish lifestyles of our Prophet Class. Bentleys and Lamborghinis, the new vestments for your shepherd.
So you may cry and wail that our Prophet Class are wasting the people’s money. I say meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Religion as theft? No way. The prophets cannot be crooks and liars! Also, rainbows are just unicorn bridges across the sky.