Sandy Hook and the revolt against death
posted at 2:01 pm on December 18, 2012 by Ed Morrissey
My friend Timothy Dalrymple went a little different direction in his post today about the Newtown massacre than I did, but ended up in about the same place:
The most fundamental metaphor God has given us for our relationship is the metaphor of the parent and the child. And if I feel this terrible revolt against death’s promise of permanency, I believe God feels it too. God brought us forth like a father brings forth children. In our best and truest moments as parents, we reflect just a little of the heart of God. And if my fatherly heart feels agony at the prospect of an everlasting separation from my children, if it cannot contemplate the death of so much joy and creativity and love without feeling a rising, roaring “NO!” de profundis, I believe the Father of fathers feels it infinitely more.
Which is why he defeated death.
Americans are moved by this mass murder even more than other cases, not only because of the number of the slain but because they were not movie-goers or even college students but little children. Americans are grieving as parents. We grieve because we imagine our own children’s or grandchildren’s little bodies pumped full of bullets like the lost children of Sandy Hook. And we grieve because we know the headline in my local paper this morning — “Message to survivors: You’re safe” — is simply not true. In this life, it never is.
We want to act, and we should. But there will be no sanctuary in changing policies or programs or even culture. We may reduce the frequency of these kinds of events. But we live in an age in which the ancient evil of the human heart will invariably find the modern means of ripping it apart.
I’ll be discussing this with Timothy on my show today, so be sure to tune in. He gets closer to the core of religious faith, while my column and post today touched more specifically on Advent and humility. But in both, we discuss the fallen nature of humanity, and the fact that it’s impossible to legislate evil out of the world, or aggregate enough power to ensure that evil befalls no one, even ourselves.
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