I’m beginning to get that feeling, that feeling that comes while the storm gathers ominous and dark in the near distance, and words keep popping into my head when I think about the HHS directive on the Federal Health Insurance plan, affectionately known as Obamacare, and its spurious “conscience” clause. Words, you ask? Yes, words; words like oppress, suppress, subdue, afflict, press, persecute, destroy. Being from New York City a few terms pop into my head around this time, too: “put the screws to”, “put the squeeze on”.
Here is a confession: I’m beginning to feel like an inhabitant of Boston during the 1770’s when an arrogant monarch far away and his uncaring agents near at hand ran rough over rights and abrogated freedom. We all know what soon happened. I begin to wonder if all of the efforts made to afford the blessings of liberty to us who are the “posterity” once hoped to be secure in those liberties mean anything anymore; if they are at all worth the parchment they were written on. And, then as I wonder on, I start getting mad. Being from New York as I said, some other words I would rather not say come to mind.
Thinking well of someone is something that cannot be done when mad. I think in terms of blood and broken bones, which does no one any good.
So I will not do anything like that. The first thing I want to make clear is that this battle, war, or whatever one wants to call it is over, and I know who has won it. It has been won by Love. When the victory party begins is now. Of this I am sure. The blood of 53 million innocent martyrs will not have been shed in vain. Love will see to that. They, the dead ones who never drew a breath, have been the “army” of youth flying the standard of truth overwhelming the cold might come against them; the machined steel hearts in steel hands wielding steel instruments of death. They will brought be ended in good time.
It is quite possible that in their end not one thing will be left of this bold experiment in liberty started more than two centuries ago. It is quite possible that will be the case. If so, mark down last week’s decision to refuse the benefits of conscience to those who yet have one as the beginning of that end.
This is the second part of that little attempt I began a day or so ago, the attempt to make sense out of nonsense, to keep my eyes on the light while darkness grows. Then I quoted St. Paul’s letter to the Christians in Corinth, a strange place not unlike some of the places we live in, places which might be called Washington, or New York, or Chicago, but are really named Anything Goes, or Whatever Works. St. Paul told them then to behave as if what everyone else thought was real wasn’t really so, since “The world in its present form is passing away.”
They, the ones who govern Anything Goes, and the people who believe in them, have no meaning. Their world is the one which will pass away. It is already gone.
To paraphrase a line from a song popular when I was a young man, “there is Love all around, but they never hear it calling.” They hear another tuneless voice, an empty howling.
So, I will do this. I will not pay them attention any longer. I cannot make sense of them anyway, and they surely do not wish to pay attention to me. They are busy with death, their own and others; perhaps mine and yours someday. It does not matter. As I said the war is already over and won.
What if you join me? What if all simply refuse to pay them attention?