"I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun," goes the 70s pop hit. Let's talk.
Consider the former world renowned sports doctor who was recently sentenced to (up to) 175 years in prison. His crime? Molesting -- over a span of more than two decades -- girls as young as eight years old. As hackneyed as the phrase may be, it breathes the only words that begin to convey our shock, dismay, and horror: There are no words to express our shock, dismay, and horror. Here's another hackneyed but distressingly appropriate phrase: death is too good for him. There is really only one punishment that might possibly fit the crime and thereby fulfill the demands of justice: for him to live and relive the shame and anguish he feels facing his victims turned accusers recounting his actions for the whole world; to feel and feel again the disgust the world feels for him; to deepen his own self-loathing for having used his abilities and charm to seduce his victims and their protectors to drop all barriers and invite him to molest them.
Consider the young man I heard interviewed on NPR some years back. He was in his late 20s/early 30s. At some point in his late teens he had two realizations: (1) that he was only attracted to young girls; (2) that was not the norm. He was horrified and put up barrier after barrier to ensure he would not act on his desires. He never allowed himself to be alone with children. In fact, he rarely allowed himself anywhere that children were present. He was perpetually in fear that he would slip and act on his very powerful lusts.
What separates the doctor from the saint? Not the desires; both are the same when it comes to that. Not education, not intelligence, not culture. It is not even that one acted and one didn't. Our saint admitted in the interview that if he were alone with a child, he would be unable to restrain himself. The judge, in fact, made that very point in the sentencing. The judge took the doctor to task for knowing he had this problem and for not seeking help. It is worth listening to the her remarks while sentencing the doctor. She had tried similar offenders and had sentenced them to a few years and therapy... and had been gratified in many instances to see them return to society. But someone who has the wherewithal to seek help and makes no effort? For that person she retains no compassion. "I've just signed your death warrant, sir."
I would recommend you listen/view at least some of the testimony from the girls. I would recommend you view the entire final sentencing. You will find the real issue on the docket was about trust and betrayal, helping another and serving one's self. You can put any desire you want in that trial. If you are trustworthy and helpful, then you are on the saint's team; you are a saint just like him. If you are willing to betray a trust to serve your own desires, you are on the doctor's team; you are a sinner, just like him.
Please read that song lyric again. Do you really want to laugh with the doctor or would you rather cry with our anonymous saint? Now that we've set the context, that song is no longer light and jaunty... it's sinister and creepy.
Consider the former world renowned sports doctor who was recently sentenced to (up to) 175 years in prison. His crime? Molesting -- over a span of more than two decades -- girls as young as eight years old. As hackneyed as the phrase may be, it breathes the only words that begin to convey our shock, dismay, and horror: There are no words to express our shock, dismay, and horror. Here's another hackneyed but distressingly appropriate phrase: death is too good for him. There is really only one punishment that might possibly fit the crime and thereby fulfill the demands of justice: for him to live and relive the shame and anguish he feels facing his victims turned accusers recounting his actions for the whole world; to feel and feel again the disgust the world feels for him; to deepen his own self-loathing for having used his abilities and charm to seduce his victims and their protectors to drop all barriers and invite him to molest them.
Consider the young man I heard interviewed on NPR some years back. He was in his late 20s/early 30s. At some point in his late teens he had two realizations: (1) that he was only attracted to young girls; (2) that was not the norm. He was horrified and put up barrier after barrier to ensure he would not act on his desires. He never allowed himself to be alone with children. In fact, he rarely allowed himself anywhere that children were present. He was perpetually in fear that he would slip and act on his very powerful lusts.
What separates the doctor from the saint? Not the desires; both are the same when it comes to that. Not education, not intelligence, not culture. It is not even that one acted and one didn't. Our saint admitted in the interview that if he were alone with a child, he would be unable to restrain himself. The judge, in fact, made that very point in the sentencing. The judge took the doctor to task for knowing he had this problem and for not seeking help. It is worth listening to the her remarks while sentencing the doctor. She had tried similar offenders and had sentenced them to a few years and therapy... and had been gratified in many instances to see them return to society. But someone who has the wherewithal to seek help and makes no effort? For that person she retains no compassion. "I've just signed your death warrant, sir."
I would recommend you listen/view at least some of the testimony from the girls. I would recommend you view the entire final sentencing. You will find the real issue on the docket was about trust and betrayal, helping another and serving one's self. You can put any desire you want in that trial. If you are trustworthy and helpful, then you are on the saint's team; you are a saint just like him. If you are willing to betray a trust to serve your own desires, you are on the doctor's team; you are a sinner, just like him.
Please read that song lyric again. Do you really want to laugh with the doctor or would you rather cry with our anonymous saint? Now that we've set the context, that song is no longer light and jaunty... it's sinister and creepy.
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