I often wonder whether people think very much about death.
I often wonder how God thinks about, looks at, (created? allowed?) death.
Today I have been thinking about the brutality of men and women.
We used to tie the left hands of left-handed children behind their backs, so that they would learn to write with their right hands. Emperors used to have slaves and criminals fight to the death and thrown to lions. Peasants and wealthy alike would come and watch. As sport. They would pay money to watch slaves fight to the death; to watch criminals hang on crosses and run from hungry lions. A subset of slaves in the antebellum U.S. south also had fight-to-the-death matches.
Our government sends drones into civilian populated areas of countries housing our Current Enemies. Our doctors and clinicians snip the necks and vacuum out the brains of viable-but-unborn infants, and our judges uphold the legality to do so. If twelve randomly chosen people hear the court case of a stranger and decide that he is a horrible enough person, he is sentenced to death.
Office employees chat in the break room about which guns they own, and how, damn straight I’d shoot a perpetrator who tried to break into my house. And you shoot to kill, because otherwise they sue you.
Ten year old children play video games which simulate the Wars that killed their grandfathers, or gave their fathers PTSD.
Teenage boys force themselves sexually on five year old girls.
We are these people.
We are brutal.
I think brutality is one of the only words that sums of the dark side of the physical, emotional, mental, spiritual capacity of Human Beings.
And I know that God probably thinks about death in a different way than I do. He must. In C.S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet, the older races from Mars consider death to be a part of life, a divine passage, no cause for grief.
But then, until Man showed up on Mars, they had never heard of murder.