You’re a six or seven year old in the first grade in Cuba. You are sitting at your desk along with all your classmates and your teacher comes in and says “Ok class. How many of you would like to have some ice cream and cake?”
The entire classroom, you included, raises their hands, giddy with anticipation, practically tasting that commodity you have had very few times in your life.
The teacher scans the room, sees all the raised hands and kids stirring in their seats and says: “Alright then. All of you bow your heads and pray to God to bring you some ice cream and cake.”
And you, along with every other kid in the class, do just that. You bow your head and begin praying to God.
Dear God, please let us have some ice cream and cake. I love ice cream and cake, God, and I have behaved. Ive been a good boy. I would love some ice cream and cake. Please God, bring us some ice cream and cake.
You and your classmates sit there for what seems like forever praying to God for ice cream and cake. Every few seconds you look towards the classroom door, hoping, praying, that God will have sent someone to your classroom with some delicious ice cream and cake.
But after over ten minutes of praying to God for ice cream and cake, it is nowhere to be found. There is no ice cream and cake. God didnt hear your prayers. God didnt take care of you. God didnt send you ice cream and cake.
“Alright,” says your teacher. “Have you all been praying to God for ice cream and cake?”
Everyone nods their heads. You and your classmates have prayed hard.
“Well now,” your teacher says. “If you ve all prayed so hard to God, like I know you all have, why arent you eating ice cream and cake? Why didnt God bring you some ice cream and cake? You see, God doesnt take care of you.”
After a brief moment of complete silence, your teacher chimes in again:
“Alright, now I want you to bow your heads once again and pray. Pray for the Revolution to bring you ice cream and cake.”
And you bow your head once again as do your classmates and begin to pray. No sooner have you done so than the door busts open and its a miliciano, dressed in fatigues like the omnipotent leader of Cuba, with a five gallon bucket of ice cream and a huge cake.
“You see, children,” your teacher says smiling. “You prayed to God for ice cream and cake but he did not give you ice cream and cake. Then you prayed to the Revolution for ice cream and cake and now you are all eating ice cream and cake. God does not love you like the Revolution loves you.”
As an adult, you dont really like ice cream and cake all that much.