Who’s eating my pastries?
Updated: Jul 31, 2018
The place I lived when I was ten years old I remember most. I call it my “village.” I learned much about life there. There I learned that if I lie, I turn into an enemy of God. That would be a really big deal. As my parents put it, the last thing anyone would want is to become an enemy of God. I paid close attention to that. Kept that in mind as long and as intensely as I could.
Then … there were the pastries.
My dad had the habit of every so often visiting the bakery and getting a box of fresh pastries. He had a schedule of sharing that box with everyone. A schedule that repeated every two three days. But I could not wait that long. Even today I recall those pastries as juiciest and tastiest I have ever had in life. Those days I faced an immense, constant pressure to have one, and I did. I would sneak into that box, pick one, close the lid, go to a hiding place and take my time enjoying that exceptional pastry. Even though I knew I was acting against what my dad expected of me, I argued it was just one pastry and he would not notice one missing from the box. The logic was sound. The only problem was that I repeated it every hour. Every hour I would visit the box of pastries, take one, rearrange the remainder and tell myself that my dad
would not notice the missing one.
The next time my dad visited the box to distribute pastries to everyone, I could hear him crying out, Who’s been eating the pastries?
And of course, I was not the one. I denied that I had anything to do with it. There were five other siblings. Other potential pastry-snatchers included three children of our two servants. My dad probably knew I was the top suspect but never confronted me. He would sigh at what had happened and the next day would show up with another box that he would distribute first to everyone and then place in a hard-to-reach place. But there was no hard-to-reach place I could not reach. I had to have those pastries, and that sequence would always end at my dad crying out, Who’s eating the pastries?
From pastries I learned two things. First, the value of lying. So long as I could lie that I had not eaten any pastries and so long as that lie was accepted by others, I could continue to benefit from eating pastries. Second, I learned that being the enemy of God was not as scary as my parents had made it out to be. He and I continued to have a good relationship even though I lied. I even imagined him smiling at the cause of my lies—the pastries—and even agreeing that a lie that hurt no one and benefitted me would not make me the enemy of God. Perhaps I was hurting others that also expected to taste the pastries, but my dad always took care of that by resupplying everyone with pastries. So long as my dad remained a regular supplier of pastries, the extra share that I took and lied about seemed to matter little. I used the logic that God understood my love of pastries and did not see me the enemy even though I lied regularly when it came to pastries.
Why am I telling you this story?
I am interested in knowing whose pastries Mr. Trump is eating.
My pastries were actual pastries. Mr. Trump’s pastries could be financing arrangements that bring him wealth or personal secrets kept hidden. All I know for a fact is that he is lying profusely and from my experience I know that some form of “pastry” sits at the end of each lie. Then comes the question of whether the pastries he gets through lies hurt others or not.
Assume for the moment that the pastry he’s getting is his relationship with the Russians. He is benefiting from financial deals he has made with them. Assume he is benefiting from secrets they hold and do not reveal to others. Does any of that hurt others? If they hurt others, is there someone like my dad that comes around with a box of pastries and takes care of them?
We have to develop a deeper understanding of how lies relate to pastries they provide. If we lack such understanding, and worse, if it results in extensive hurt for which there is no counter or remedy, then in lying we are acting as enemy of God. While God might show mercy to a ten-year-old taking pastries and lying about it, I doubt He would show mercy to a nation that has no problem with its leaders lying and taking pastries in ways that harm many.
I am telling you what I know through my pastry experience. I doubt you will listen. You’re probably too buried in lies that give you your desired pastries. And you refuse to read my books because if you do you would lie less and take fewer pastries. You wouldn’t want that; the pastries are too good and the lies too easy to make.