If you know me, you probably realize that I don’t gain much comfort from religion. I’m too much of a cynic, apparently.

This weekend we went to the funeral for my brother-in-law. I really didn’t know him, I met him at my wedding and perhaps saw him a couple other times. He left home when my wife was very young (high chair? I think) and never came back.

So, naturally, my wife said the eulogy. She’s great. She’s going to do my eulogy, because she’ll make me sound so much better than I really am. Maybe make somebody smile or something. Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yeah, we went to the funeral. Of course, funerals are mostly for the people left behind. Nice things were said. The priest explained how it was OK with God that he had followed his own path and questioned everything, how he had turned his back on his firstborn as well as his nine brothers and sisters and parents. Okay, he didn’t say all that, but isn’t that what he meant? You’re dead now, so God forgives you and welcomes you into heaven, because the people you left behind forty years ago all got together and paid for a box and spent some time praying for you.

I told you I was a cynic. You didn’t believe me?

Well, I don’t find much comfort in any of this, and I think that’s a problem, because I’m supposed to. I guess I need to sort it all out before I get hit by a bus or something.

I found this amusing though.

Oh, and my kids decided that Jesus probably got the first Playstation 3, and didn’t even have to wait in line, since his dad has connections in high places.