Skip to main content

Left to His Own Devices


Fred Phelps, founder of the Westboro Baptist Church, is dead.

To say that Fred Phelps dabbled in hate is akin to saying how a dog is pretty fierce with a bone. The main object of the man's hatred were people like myself: gay people. I'm not sure why. He and his church used the cloak of religion, but there was obviously something else going on there. A few months ago, Phelps was excommunicated from Westboro Baptist, leading some to speculate the reason why. Was he secretly gay? Did he have a change of heart regarding his treatment of people during his 84-year-long life?

Who knows? Honestly, as someone who never knew the man, the reasons for Phelps' excommunication matters not to me. So why am I taking the time write about him? Because, just this once, I'm going to acknowledge his existence, since he chose to acknowledge mine (and others), even if it was in a vile and contemptible way.

Honestly, I just want to say that I forgive Fred Phelps. That's not easy to do, but the struggle of emotions running through my veins since hearing first of his ill-health, and now his death, are mainly those of sadness. The sadness is for him, oddly enough. Yes, it's terrible that he spewed a philosophy of hatred. Yes, I feel terribly for the families and friends of those whose funerals he picketed. But let's be honest: anyone who does that is a sad spectacle of a human being. All is not right with their world.

Some say that it's wrong to feel pity for anyone but, more than anything, I pity Fred Phelps and his ilk. Their lives must be miserable. They attempt to inflict misery onto others, but many people are stronger than he was, and rise above it. This is why I forgive Phelps. He lived (to my estimation) a miserable life, and died a slow, probably painful death in hospice. I don't take any comfort or glee in that and, frankly, neither should anyone else.

I don't believe in a Heaven or Hell. I don't really believe in an afterlife, but if there is one of some sort, I hope that it's a continuing journey, not a final destination where folks are sorted into eternal glory or punishment. My hope is that spirits such as Phelps grow and learn. It would be nice to run into him at some point, and have it be a pleasant experience. He wouldn't have to apologize. Instead, we'd take solace in knowing that he'd become a more loving soul.


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Orby-D

Twenty-four-years ago today, we lost one of the greatest singers of the rock & roll era. While Roy Orbison will be forever known in the pantheon of rock/pop legends, for me he will always be the voice that I melded with during turbulent high school years, and that I love to this day. Roy Orbison wrote and (more importantly) sang about love. Mostly, it was tragic love, not the happy-go-lucky love that so many of his contemporaries sang about. No one could do depressive songs better than Mr. Orbison. This is probably why I identified with his music so much. I mean, we all have had our down times but, during high school, I'd cornered the market.
Post a Comment
Read more

Watching The Hours

A Twitter friend named Paula has asked for folks to submit ideas for a blog-a-thon about what we think will be the classic films of the future. In other words, what relatively recent movies (namely, from the 21st century), do we think will be considered classics in the decades to come, possibly airing on such venerable stations as Turner Classic Movies ? While a number of films come to mind for such a category, one in particular stood out from the rest, and thus is my entry for Paula's blog-a-thon.
5 comments
Read more

The Year in Music

There are times in your life when you will read or watch something, stop for a moment, and think to yourself: "This is truth. This is gospel, right here." For some, it may have been the first time you read the Bible, the Tanakh, or the Koran. For others, it could have been when you read self-help books such as The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People , or Chicken Soup for the Soul . Still, for others, it's going to be this blog post right here. The truth is, dear reader, that 1993 was the best year for music. Full-stop. Some of you already know this. For others, it will be a revelation. Please, allow me to explain. Following are some of the albums released in 1993, with a bit of commentary from yours truly. During or after reading this, I think you'll agree that there's really no question anymore that 1993 was king. Ok, here we go.
Post a Comment
Read more