Lent III: Maybe inability is a gift

I spent several days on a posting about why I cannot forgive several people whose presence in my life has been a source of pain. I was naming them. And something ate at me. Not the legality or merely the ethics of naming names, but the whole idea of dragging someone through the mud simply for a gratification and cheap thrill that I couldn’t get anymore.

What happened to the saying “Revenge is the best form of living well”?  I like the emphasis there better than in the more familiar version, because in the reversal is the real meaning of the the statement. It find a different and more chilling expression in the words of a Talmudic sage: “When someone comes to kill you, kill him first.”

I find myself wanting, desperately, to name their names, to spell out what I believe in my heart are their crimes against me, crimes taken not from reaction to “my part” and the parts of Recovery programs that are blame-the-victim nonsense, but because Evil exists, and it has thrived in the bodies and souls of these warped human beings.

But I cannot do it. And there are times when I curse my veneer of Christianity as being something perhaps more than a veneer, something that has transformed into an honest-to-God ethic.

I hate it but I’m stuck with it.

Another day in the desert. What a break for me. The guilty remain unnoted.


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