While I've long outgrown the age of Trick or Treat, or monster-themed parties, Halloween still has a very special place in my heart. It's the movies, you see. I love scary movies. I've been watching them pretty much since I was able to peek out from under the covers. I love that rush of adrenaline, the thrill of being frightened by what I know to be impossible. And that's what really makes the scary movie fun, isn't it? We pretend there is danger, but know inside there is not. Otherwise, it isn't so entertaining. It's something else entirely.
There is a genre of movie that goes down that all-too-dark road. Usually historical in nature, it mines fear not from the outlandish, but from the plausible. It reveals the shadowy realms that we have seen, if only from a distance. It frightens with the knowledge that all the works of men do not pass away, but simply move out of view, waiting for an eventual return.
Judgement at Nuremberg was such a film. Slowly, painfully, it traces the history of four men who acted as judges during the rise of the Third Reich in Germany. As the Nazis gained more power, these men were a few of those who abandoned their duty to the law to give Hitler the unfettered power he needed to turn a constitutional republic into a dictatorship and war machine. Each had their own reasons, what they told themselves to justify what they allowed. A twisted nationalism. A greed fed on the property of the innocent, right down to the gold fillings in their teeth. And one of them, who judged himself as the worst of them all, an otherwise honorable judge who kept telling himself that all of this was temporary. Soon to pass.
The Jews took the brunt of the time in the concentration camps, but they were not alone. There were also those whom the Nazis considered undesirable, such as the homosexuals. And there were those who did not sit by idly, content to watch evil rise. These were the pastors, the priests, the Christians and Jews who fought for as long as they were free, the secular men and women of good conscience. There were judges, as well, who would not serve Hitler in the courts, and thus found themselves serving in the camps.
It was a horror story that never quite goes away because it never really ends. Justice resides in the hearts of men, but injustice resides there as well. Worse yet, while justice may declare itself satisfied and rest for time, injustice never sleeps. It simply hides in the shadows, waiting to reappear. It is currently making an appearance in Houston, Texas.
Annise Parker has the distinction of being the first openly lesbian mayor of a major city. Apparently this accolade is not sufficient, however. She is now looking to become the first mayor to cancel the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution in the city. Under the guise of pursuing remarks amounting to discrimination, she is attempting to subpoena records of sermons from five churches in the city. The implications against freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and unreasonable search and seizure should be apparent to all.
It's a horror story on many levels: That such a demand could ever come up, that any law should exist on the books that might give such an order the slightest credibility. And then there is the true abomination: The city will defend itself from the challenges being raised using tax money taken from the citizens.
When the laws began to pass supposedly "prohibiting discrimination" against gays, I cringed inside. Not because I sought discrimination or felt any hatred towards the groups involved. I had simply been paying attention. In Europe and Canada, it was little to no time at all before the passing of such laws were used to restrain the rights of all who disagreed. As it was there, so it is now.
The battle for liberty in Houston is not lost, not by a long shot, but what then? Those on the left championing the gay agenda will not stop. Why should they? Their war is financed by the sweat and labor of those they wish to enslave. There is still hope, however. After Halloween comes a pivotal mid-term election. Here is my prayer that freedom loving people of all persuasions will join to remove those who would support this abuse. Come this November, let's join together and give the bullies and fascists something to fear for a change.
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