Monday, December 17, 2012
A few words on the Newtown, Connecticut horror
Like you and the rest of the nation I am distraught beyond words at the massacre in Connecticut. The horror, the very scope of destruction, is almost more than I can wrap my head around. I find a tear coming to my eye with every story about the victims and the many expressions of sympathy from around the world. I'm in mourning for those children and their teachers.
But now the media coverage has become obsessive, almost circus like in it's repetition and desperate grasps at new angles and obscure interviews. It is verging on becoming a morbid dance of death. We've heard everything we need to hear, and I wish it would stop.
Perhaps you, like me, are disgusted with the grotesque references to prayer, god, heaven, angels, jesus and all the predictable platitudes that the religious drag out whenever a tragedy happens. Religious bloggers and their sheeple who hallelujah their exhortation to prayer (for what I wonder); the crazed pastors and televangelists with their insipid and sickening declarations of why this happened, ranging from the ever popular "God called them home," to it being attributed to god's vengeance for his "not being allowed in school"; and the simply religiously infected need to espouse their religious beliefs publicly and wallow in a kind of breast beating and self flagellation... it all disgusts me.
It is the religious' trained response to inexplicable, and unfathomable acts of natural destruction and insanely driven acts of "evil." It's what they do in reaction to their impotence to do anything meaningful. It's what they've been indoctrinated or paid, to do. I despise the religious all the more for it.
But, I won't judge the parents and families of those victims the same way. They have entered a real hell, the hell no parent should ever experience. Let them express their grief and relieve their pain anyway they can...they will, sadly, have a life time of it. If their exhorting a god to explain, or imploring it to give it meaning, or praising it for taking their child to an imagined Candyland (instead of interceding on the child's behalf and averting the horror in the first place) is what they need to do to assuage their grief, then so be it.
Let them find what comfort where they can. I hope they find some measure of it, for there - but for the finger of fate - go us all.