It’s way past midnight in Paris. A couple hours past that horrible Friday 13th.
And I keep wondering how you can decide to end a hundred lives in a evening, lives of people out for a drink, a dinner, a concert, a game. 104 lives.
And the only thing that pops in mind is that hate. That hate that those who did this must have felt to believe such acts are justified.
112 lives. The numbers keep on coming on the TV that I can’t keep watching, but can’t shut down.
And I don’t feel any hate. Anger, Sadness, Fear, Disgust. Maybe Joy for all my friends and family members who are safe. But no hate.
You see people being wronged in life in any kind of way. Wronged by circumstances, wronged by other human beings. And they don’t hate. You see victims of the shoah talking about the horrors they lived through, the people they lost. And I can’t recall one hating. I have read interviews of Hiroshima survivors. No hate. I am not implying this must have been easy. But they moved on.
Hate is taught. Hate is not part of the normal feelings of a human being. Hate is fomented, provoked, fueled.
And what a horrible horrible teaching.
