In The Hands of Fearful Men

Our country is now led by men who fear Death as they fear Poverty – a sinking, gut terror; this is not a child’s fear of the haunted house, nor the sailor’s fear of the unmapped sea. This is the guilty man standing before the jury. This is the frightened doe with the wolf snapping at her heels. This is the dread of the unavoidable.

Since the start of the last century, the creeping ideal named Communism has split the world asunder, often by splitting their skulls first. All of their electioneering, all of their politiking, all of their rabble-rousing done in an abject hatred of wealth; with grand words from golden tongues they denounced, detested, decimated the rich.

Yet beneath this righteous facade was a deep-seeded anxiety, a trembling notion that Poverty was the worse that the world could offer – that if some man smoked cigars while another smoked Salems, Fate was busy laughing. That if in some parlor in some city, a businesswoman drank bourbon while another drank Bud, God himself was waiting to exact Justice.

Envy is a sly fox – like oil sitting atop water it slips above Justice as if it belongs, as if it is but another layer to virtue. But where Envy and Justice mix, there lies Vengeance. And oh! how the man afraid of Poverty will bring his Vengeance down upon his fellow man – how the ringleaders of the masses will destroy the very foundations of society to put off for but a moment longer the day when he will look around him and see ashes, the hour that he will rise from his chair and notice nothing of worth beneath his dais. And how inevitable that day is.

Now, at the turn of a new century, we are once again in the hands of fearful men – men scared of Death to the point that they will sacrifice Life for a fleeting chance at Health. Their Envy now pollutes their Justice, blackening it like boiling tar in a dying sea, and their Fear overwhelms every sense of Right they once had.

For Death is a determined collector, and all men know this. To enslave ourselves to running from it is no better than to lie down and wait for its icy touch.

Still, now they slap on the healthy their shackles of Fear and Envy. They will drive us before them while shouting “For Justice! For Health! For the Children!” But one by one men will fall to their empty philosophy, their dark future that averts its eyes from the inevitable and hides amidst platitudes and purposeless gesture of goodwill. For where Liberty is attacked, Life is the first casualty.

Yet there are we who do not fear Death, as we do not fear Poverty. We no more Envy the rich than we Covet the healthy. For the Lord has beaten Death just as He dwelled in Poverty, and so we are in Awe of Him, and we tremble before Him, and not the childish worries of these cravenly men.

May we fear God as we do not fear Death.

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  1. “This is the dread of the inevitable.” — you should use inevitable instead of unavoidable. šŸ™‚

      • zeharper
      • September 4th, 2011

      There is an agency in unavoidable that is relevant, though. Inevitability is fate, unavoidability is human. Or perhaps I just think think these things through entirely too much. Likely the latter.

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