18 July 2012

Praising the Idols of Death

What do you get when you cross narcissism, postmodern nihilism, elitist feminism, and the worship of the idols of the Culture of Death?

You get this woman:

Since I was 12 I’ve had an unappealing, didactic distrust of people with the extreme will to live. My father’s parents were Holocaust survivors, and in grade school I received the de rigueur exposure to the horror—visiting geriatric men and women with numbers tattooed on their arms, completing assigned reading like The Diary of Anne Frank and Night. But the more information I received, the less sympathy the survivors elicited from me. Each time we clapped for the old Hungarian lady who spoke about Dachau, each time Elie Wiesel threw another anonymous anecdote of betrayal onto a page, I eyed it askance, thinking What did you do that you’re not talking about? I had the gut instinct that these were villains masquerading as victims who, solely by virtue of surviving (very likely by any means necessary), felt that they had earned the right to be heroes, their basic, animal self-interest dressed up with glorified phrases like “triumph of the human spirit.”

I wondered if anyone had alerted Hitler that in the event that the final solution didn’t pan out, only the handful of Jews who actually fulfilled the stereotype of the Judenscheisse (because every group has a few) would remain to carry on the Jewish race—conniving, indestructible, taking and taking. My grandparents were not excluded from this suspicion. The same year, during a family dinner conversation about Terri Schiavo, my father made the serious request that should he fall into a vegetative state, he would like for us to keep him on life support indefinitely. Today he and I are estranged for a number of other reasons that are all somehow the same reason. 

The ONLY redeeming element of this woman's post is the combox feedback.  There, my confidence in the goodness of humanity is restored.


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  1. Oh dear. Poor silly woman. I was outraged when I read the article; heartened when I read the comments (some, there are too many to read them all); & chuckling after about 20 comments ... that most people's 'comon sense & decency'-o-meter works so well is enough to put a smile on anyone's face.

    1. Amen to that! It still amazes me how corrupt, how decadent our elites have become. Even at my most distant point from the faith, I never came close to this kind of depravity.

    2. I don't know, guys - all I felt was a sadness and pity for her, and immediately stopped and prayed. I could have gone that direction (probably not quite that far, but who knows?). I can only speak from my experience, but childhood exposure to any kind of trauma can really sour the milk of human kindness, perhaps irreparably in some people. Without consistent exposure to something/someone good and kind, I don't know how one could rise out of some situations without being damaged. God is always there, His grace is there - but if you don't know about it or have no way to trust in it, then how different might your life be?