And To The Ends of the Earth

My friend Noah G was out in front of the ISIS (Islamic State in Iraq and Syria) story before most. He does things like “watch the news” and “occasionally reads” and even “thinks critically.” Sort of a show off.

Here’s a picture of him snidely pondering the mysteries of the universe over my shoulder. Revolting.

noah

He started law school last week so now he’s going to be insufferable. I’d wish him luck and offer some advice, but I hate him.

But, on a late-night, not unpleasantly romantic stroll with Noah across the Chelsea High Line, he asked why Western people of religious faith don’t mobilize on behalf of foreign born Christians in the same way muslims do. I told him, easy. We have Bravo. Million Dollar Listing New York?

There has been an outpouring, sentimentally and actually, for the persecution of all sects at the hands of ISIS in recent weeks. But, Noah’s prescience hit home for me when I reacted disproportionately to James Foley’s death. The image of crucified arab Christians was gruesome and harrowing. But Foley’s death did that thing where you sort of feel real horror in your stomach. And, I knew immediately it was because the beheading of an American seemed more tragic somehow than the murder of arabs already culturally conditioned to it. Which is all nonsense, of course.

So I’m glad to be reminded that the commission to protect and love and care doesn’t end in Judea and Samaria.

Regardless of the nationality or religion of the victims, the whole circumstance is mayhem. A complete nightmare of moral and wartime and policy proportion.

And, as if we needed any more bad PR, it looks like the beheading suspect is a British rapper. Of course he is.

Performed by ipoetlaureate. Music produced by djclutch. Lyrics here.

Today’s blong here:

Something to Choose

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