King of Kings

I would like to begin this post with a brief history quiz. Unlike its subject matter, I would urge the reader not to cheat.

Who was Nebuchadnezzar II, and during what time period did he live? How about Marcus Crassus? And Ozymandias?

If you failed the above quiz, then you're probably a normal human being, and that's a good sign. These people's names have long since faded into dust. They were men more wealthy and powerful than any who have lived before or since. But alas, we are only remembered for the good that we do in this world, and not our acts of injustice.

There are however many who do not understand that simple fact, nor ever will in a million years. And everyone is burdened by someone like that in their family, community, and society. You know the type: the one who lies, cheats and steals their way through life. The kind of person who eagerly betrays friend and foe alike for the pleasures of this world. Who tells themselves they have fooled all of humanity with their deceptive acts of public generosity, but who has in truth fooled no one.

For me it has been my elder sister. To this day she makes a habit of triumphantly reading tales of morality like "Pinnochio" to her children. And yet, this is the same person who once secretly lied about me in an attempt to place me in legal trouble. The same person who first barred me from attending the birth of a family member, and then told my parents I had chosen not to attend. And the same person who has delighted in spreading vicious rumors about me far and wide over the years, 99% of which have been shear fabrication. But in her attempts to destroy my reputation, she has only really succeeded in irreparably damaging hers, for she has told so many tall tales that no one will believe her at this point, even if she tells the truth.

If there is a place in heaven for such people, then all of humanity can be saved. But if not, then they and they alone are doomed to forever wander the empty halls of Earthly power as forgotten specters, whose tragic stories are swept away by the annals of time, and only shared namelessly, as cautionary tales.

I will not pretend to know what specifically fate holds in store for such people. I can only attest to their lack of faith, for they have bifurcated their lives into two contradictory realities: that which is public, and that which is private. And they reason that what they do in secret will remain hidden for all of time.

That to me is a faithless assumption, because history has taught me that given enough time, injustices always find their way out into the open. Their stench wafts through any and all attempts to hide them from the rest of humanity. The skeletons are dragged out of the closet, the mass graves are unearthed, and what is whispered behind closed doors echoes like thunder throughout the entire world.

To the extent that we realize this, we can perhaps live happy lives. But to the extent that we forget it, we will be reminded of it for as many times as it takes us to accept it as truth. And if still we insist on forgetting it, then we in turn will be forgotten.

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