Sorrow

It’s proving difficult for me to write about The Sermon On The Mount today. I live in a country, the ruling party of which has just trampled on the very essence of the Galilean’s beautiful work. The very idea of eschewing anger, fornication, vindictiveness and greed is, they say, such rubbish. Their ruler and savior stands above the laws of man and God.

We have, as a nation, waved a curse on the very idea expressed in the following:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

We have said, as a country, that we no longer wish to be the light of the world, a city that is set on a hill and cannot be hid.

We have said, as a people, that we choose instead to be an example where might makes right, rulers rule outside the law, minion toadies define righteousness and sin, and where we denounce our godly brothers and sisters as our enemies. We proceed now to trample upon the least of those among us, while the greedy triumph, alone with their rusting treasures stored in mighty skyscrapers.

We mourn for Zion, while the Galilean shakes his head.

Who led us hither?

The teacher?

The reader and thinker?

The humanist?

The worker?

The questioner and writer?

The reporter of truth?

No, none of those have cursed the meek or peaceful. They don't propose to sell our country for personal gain. Rather, they seek righteousness and pray in secret, each in their own manner.

Tragically, it is a cult of the self-defined godly who brought us here, those who define their faith from one or two sentences of redacted Bibles. They are those who sound their trumpets loudest in the churches and in the streets, the hypocrites who shall have their reward, a consummation for which we devoutly wish.

They are the ones who praise the fornicator, the divorcee, the hater of his brother, the mocker of the least among us, the promoter of hatred and anger, the greedy deceiver, the denouncer of veterans who have gone into harm’s way at the request of their country, the praiser of evil dictators, the destroyer of the planet given to us by the Galilean’s father, the promoter of corruption, and the spreader of a blot on humanity itself.

The Galilean never said it, but I wish he had included, as his final benediction, “Woe upon them who call themselves of me but treasure evil, those who would follow the ungodly despite his transgressions, those who sin and call it holy.”

That’s what America has become.