And today, Charlie Hebdo.
I’ve started and erased six or seven different paragraphs at this point — like everyone else, I’m torn between the need to distinguish between the savages and the innocent, the need to destroy the monsters without taking on monstrosity ourselves. But at the same time, I think of the sack of Béziers, and observe that one doesn’t encounter too many Cathars these days.
I tremble when I think of the day others recognize that lesson. But I tremble more when I think of a West with no more Van Goghs, Norrises, or Charlie Hebdos.
May God have mercy on my soul.