Lynch mobs

The pagan Chinese remind us that lynch mobs aren't just driven by Christian sentiments, but by sentiments of natural law written on our stony hearts. They remind us that even people who have no understanding of Christ do understand that some attitudes are simply too selfish to be permitted.

On the other hand, the individual the great mass of Chinese have chosen to attack, a person who feels no empathy for thousands dead and tens of thousands injured, wasn't created ex nihilo. The atheistic culture of China - a culture our parasitic elites want us to emulate - helped produce her and many more like her.

The wish that the old would simply die and get out of the way, that the injured would shut up and quit moaning, that the bereaved would be quiet and quit mourning, these ideas are enshrined in both capitalist and communist cultures.

In both cases, the sorrow and pain serve "no useful purpose".
Indeed, without the Cross, neither sorrow nor pain can make sense to anyone.

Yet, like every pagan religion, Confucius and his descendants understood that the inability to fully understand something didn't strip that something of its power to awe. They acknowledged a need to stand or kneel in silence before the mystery of suffering and death.

This silence before the mystery, this is what both capitalism and communism abhor. It implies that there are things outside of human control, that we are more than the sum total of our chemical constituents. This silence cannot be borne.

Christians aren't abhorred because our faith makes no sense.
Rather, we are abhorred precisely because our Faith does make sense.

But the understanding it brings, the facts it supplies, are at variance with the illusions the elites would prefer, whether those illusions be the phantasms of our favorite television shows or our favorite sins.

The television shows us a lot of little pictures, and through its lens it is easy to mistake Hollywood's creation from God's creation or our own.

God creates the good, we create the suffering.

Through the lens of the television set, we compare the glory of Hollywood's creations to the reality of our own.

We see the suffering we created and reject it.
"That has nought to do with me," we insist.

And in that moment, when our defiant voices ring defensively around our illusions, in that moment the stones themselves cry out for justice.