God of the Killers
31 May, 2010
By Anwaar Hussain
Hate has struck yet again this Black Friday . Hundreds of innocent human beings have been killed and maimed by the hate mongers in the name of God—a God in whose praise, worship and flattery, the killers doused themselves with the divine perfume of innocent blood. I have thought and thought and thought about this god of the killers but I still don’t know which god sanctions such ghastly bloodbath.
Yet, I think and think and think about the god of the killers.
None know whether this god has a thousand arms, or a hundred heads, or is adorned with garlands of living snakes, or is armed with clubs, or with swords, or whether he inhales air, or vacuum or exhales fire or brimstone. But what everyone now does know is that the god of the killers is a most vengeful, savage and ruthless deity and craves the blood and flesh of innocent people.
In asking his worshipers to slaughter in his name, the god of the killers demands the most abject and degrading submission. He hates and loves only those his devotees hate and love. Nothing is so pleasing to this god as the butchery of those his followers hate. Nothing satisfies him more than when he looks down from his starry throne, he finds his followers busy in bloody carnage. Nothing so enrages him as to have his followers leave the massacre to him.
This god promises happiness here and hereafter to his slaves, and threatens to eternally punish all the rest. The redder the hands of his followers with human blood, the greater their reward behind heaven’s golden gates. But only when his slaves commit slaughter upon slaughter, with steady hands and steely nerves, and then get upon their knees and tell him repeatedly that he is good, that he is merciful, that he is just, that he is love, would the reward come—not before. If his slaves waver or refuse to become party to his gruesome plans, or decline to grovel before him and flatter him enough, they are denounced, hated, reviled, banished here, and threatened with eternal torment in the fiery depths of hell once up there.
This is a god who addresses his disciples and calls them intelligent beings, and yet makes it a crime, punishable with timeless flames, for them to use their intelligence for the purpose of analyzing his dispatches. He quivers with godly rage if ever a man dares to think that, perchance, there may not be a god that is appeased by blood, that the times of gods wanting the blood of the first born is long gone, that salvation through slavery is a contradiction in terms, that true deliverance may lie in free thought riding on the wings of reason. Nay—he wants man to kneel in fear, to tremble in terror, to freeze his mind, to never ever question but to only obey that which his high priests translate for him. And to kill and to kill and to kill.
I don’t know what to write and how to write for anguish leaves me paralyzed. The only conclusion I have come to is that there cannot be such a god. I just can’t believe in such a blood thirsty god whose fear paralyzes the thinking faculties of even his adorers. I cannot become one who cringes to the very earth, in infinite humiliation of my soul, to the god of the killers—a god that can dash me to the lower hell or raise me to high heaven if I don’t do or do his dark bidding. I just cannot believe in a god that would order me to kill my brethren—his children again.
No—there can’t be such a god. And if there is, the killers can have him.
More than this, I do not want to pen.