Darkness

In the world’s greatest gallery of sinners, I’ve always held my own. I doubt if I’ve ever been used as a role model. Friends tell stories about me around campfires. My relatives call me an anarchist and won’t let their kids come near me. The word “potential” never appears in a sentence about me without the ubiquitous “squandered.” Through it all, I pressed on, hoping for some ray of hope, as William Faulkner said of Boon Hogganbeck from The Reivers. “No epoch of history nor generation of human beings either ever was or is or will be big enough to hold the un-virtue of any given moment, any more than they could contain all the air of any given moment; all they can do is hope to be as little soiled as possible during their passage through it."

I persevered, and I think I changed some for the better. My attitudes changed on numerous topics.  For example, I entered the United States Navy with a churning belly full of resentment. Now, I wouldn’t take a million dollars for those four years. In other ways as well, I have altered my attitudes. I’ve even learned to like English Peas and poetry.

A friend once said of me, “I love you for you don’t have a 24-hour and attitude about anything.” But I think he was wrong.

Now that I’ve offered my mea culpas, let me argue that I don’t think the “better angels of my nature” have changed over the years, and, if they have, the direction was for the good of humanity. When I was a teenager, I believed in the equality and sanctity all races and backgrounds of people. I still do. When a college student, I came to believe that The Sermon on the Mount was a sublime piece of literature and righteous guidance. I still do. I believe in honesty, good government, striving to help others, truth in advertising, not trusting Russia, and the paramount superiority of turnip greens and cornbread over escargots or kidney pie.

I did flirt with a wee bout of conservatism once when I became seduced into believing it would further my career. Mike Huckabee cured that when he threatened to close migrant worker center in south Arkansas. For those who should have been paying attention, that was a preview of things to come. The road to Hell is not one hidden long from view.

Anyway, about this idea of core beliefs. I see examples of change for the worse every day in friends I have known for years, some for a lifetime. These are folks I once knew to be kind, generous, and caring people. Or they seemed to be. Now, it seems as if a dark cloud settled upon them. They post bad things about good people on social media, and good things about bad people. Something or someone seems to have stolen their sense of righteousness. There is no example of avarice and mendacity for which they cannot find praise if the offeror claims the right political initial after his or her name.

These are not the people I once knew. Or, are they? I don’t know. Dark monsters hide deep within us are monumentally patient. Something rose in my friends, and it isn’t pretty.

They appear, from all aspects to worship a serial divorcee, liar, swindler, adulterer, cheat, and hatemonger. They even boast that the possibility of upsetting me about it is funny.

I’m bemused. The Galilean must be nauseated.

That’s the darkest irony involved. Many, if not most of whom I speak, claim to be Christians. Not Galilean ones, mind you, but followers of the part of the old and new books of faith that espouse despising gays and supporting slavery. Some even claim to be preachers of the Christian faith. Their only core belief lies in the topic of abortion. They want it to be criminalized, but it eludes them that a heavy concentration on sex education, availability of contraception, elimination of poverty, and male accountability would be much more effective (and good for the country) than electing political scoundrels who pretend to be on their side.

Yes, they attend, or lead, services on Sunday mornings and then spend the afternoon on Facebook bearing false witness against Hillary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, Barack Obama (and his wife), Jimmy Carter, and others.

Something changed them. Maybe the aliens who pick through our smoldering remains will figure it out.