Friendship and Vengeance
The world is beautiful because I look at it, admirable because I admire it, deserving of respect because it is unaware of me and thus my love, yet still it smiles at me and all. It is well worthy of the love of Vengeance!
Paul saw God in the beauty of the world, and he would call me a fool for my observations. But that is fine. I have my own names for Paul.
Nevertheless, we study the same nature, and we love the nature we study, albeit in different ways, so we are never enemies, just two separate and distinct feet tossed and dragged down a road we can never study objectively.
Yet I’m the fool who fights his own battles, the foot which kicks ass for itself when the need arises—-and only then!
Oh, I would go through hell to help my friends, but I would go further (and farther) to punish my enemies. . . .
Yet Paul is no coward for refusing to fight. He stands in public waiting to be punched! (But don’t think this makes him brave; after all, he could be lazy. Or tired.) Certainly, though, he is hard to pity, even when someone does strike him: he complains too often, and too wildly, for my minimalist tastes.
In addition, he enjoys using cosmic extortion to accrue from my beautiful world the live-stock he would have behind fences in heaven. Directly he would change the behavior of my beautiful world.
My two eyes, the beauty and soul of Vengeance, shine crossly in Paul’s.
But he is willing to forgive and forget such trespasses against him. But that is easy for him to do. After all, the role of Vengeance was one for which God never held auditions. He fancied himself best for that part. (And hey: it’s His show—-or it isn’t.)
So Paul can forgive his enemies because God will punish them, and while on earth, Paul will forget them, though in heaven, Paul might condescend his enemies, those who now abide in holy hell, however much that might lower Paul, however much it might bring him down to their level—-the hellish level of his enemies!
And wherefore art Paul? One with Vengeance? As if. . .
But life for me is a series of turns. Then the terminators land, but much must be done before then.
So call me Vengeance, for time is money and I’m eager to catch the early bus home. Although I’ll stay late if I have to. I take care of my friends and punish my enemies; I’d rather not chance fate and redemption on eternity, and I’d rather not quarrel with those who fancy magicians other than those whom I promote, for magic, regardless of its source, is a wonderful distortion: it makes the world lovelier for my eyes to behold, because the world always returns to its beauty, to its spinning self—-and all the while my memory continues to turn and turn. . .
But magic can’t change the world, and so the source of any given magic is irrelevant. The world of Vengeance retains its aqua beauty.
What’s not irrelevant, however, especially to my friends, is my name. Even to my dearest loves I am Vengeance, Vengeance pure and simple, and that comes with a price, the price of pride, the price of love.
I spent time in hell, hours and months, and I gnashed my teeth with Jesse James and Musashi, and we discussed art and magic and love. We also stared up at heaven and watched the angels in their careless flight.
Most of them had mastered forgiving and forgetting. At least, the ones I waved at ignored me; heavenly saints, they were ignorant of Vengeance, of our existence.
Yet other angels noticed us, and many from that few smiled and spoke encouragement into our hearts. They are the love in Vengeance and the beauty I see in the world. I shall never forget them!
Meanwhile, and so symbolic of heaven, were the angels who looked down on us, who spat in our eyes, who glared in scornful victory.
Well, they can keep their heaven, though I doubt they’ll keep it well. There is no beauty in heaven for my eyes to behold, and the road to heaven is shrouded in the mists of swarming bees and smoldering hives of sulfur, and there is no honey there, just sulfur, so the angels eat sulfur and call it honey. (I wonder what they have for milk.)
But they’d be better off eating crow, as we did in hell, but they can do as they like. I won’t judge them. I won’t forgive them. And certainly I’ll never forget them.
I’m Vengeance! Vengeance for my friends because I speak for them when they can’t and against my enemies because I can—-and therefore must—-speak!
They all bring me love and hate, and I give the world beauty and Vengeance. All of this goes hand and hand as Paul and I go foot to foot, toe to toe. And we all kick ass in the end. We are all happy! (Although some of us must forgive themselves and forget their happiness!)
Howdy. My name’s Justin Volker, and I’m a freelance writer from Kansas City, Missouri.
Those of you who have read Randy’s mission statement about this blog network will be aware that, in both ‘faith’ and ‘narrative’ posts, some writers will challenge or conflict with the theistic position.
I shall be one of those writers.
If you’re curious about my beliefs and desire clarification, well–I’m rather agnostic about a lot of things, but I do enjoy discussing religion and the place of religion in the life of the individual and in the spiderweb of society. Perhaps in the process of contributing to this site, I will come to an opinion more definite than that, but for now, this is all I can say.
I hope you enjoy reading what I write. Thanks.
About This Blog
This is a blog for challenging assumptions, building faith, and developing a stronger community. The two channels of this blog – Faith and Narrative – push us to know ourselves and the world around us more intimately. Want to learn more about us?