Unrepentant for life?

What if such a man (or woman) exists among us? A man who is simply unrepentant. He does not see a need to apologize. He just can't believe that he has done anything wrong. He is blind to his own faults. He can't accept that he has hurt others, destroyed their character, marginalized his colleagues, betrayed his friends, and scapegoated those who trusted him.

He views the world in binary terms, that is, in black and white, and what is black is the world and what is white is him and no one else. And if right is as right does, and wrong is as wrong does, then he is always right and is always doing what is right even when many would persistently beg to differ and differ most persistently.

If anything, he suffers from a myopia of the most vexing kind and that is the inability to examine his own heart. Somehow, he sees not. His reflection in the social mirror is missing something crucial for one to be humane, understanding, forgiving, self-reproaching, self-correcting, kind and compassionate.

What is shown to him when he looks in the mirror is not his own flaws as a human being but the many flaws of others, innumerable and endless even. So innumerable in fact that his self-protective mirror conveniently shields his own broken image from sight; very much like an insidious conspiracy of self in favor of self. And if love covers a multitude of sins, then pride - in his case - uncovers many but it is the sins of others and never his to renounce. Never his to disavow, to make amends.

This is a man who holds himself up in the highest esteem and it is perched so high that even he himself finds it impossible to reach. Alas, this same conspiracy has mutated into one where self takes over self and reigns undisputed.

Does such a man (or woman) exist then? Does he or she walk among us? Or is this just a character made up in fictions, fairy tales and science-fantasy? But if truth (or reality) is stranger than fiction, can anyone then say with an admittedly contrite heart that such a person actually exists and he thrives in certain circumstances of life. Some of them even live to a ripe old age, insulated from penury, sickness and blame.

And apart from certified psychopaths, or the mentally disturbed, how does clinical psychiatrists or the DSM-V characterize this peculiar personality type? 
Here is a confession by a successful law professor for your digest:

“Remorse is alien to me. I have a penchant for deceit. I am generally free of entangling and irrational emotions. I am strategic and canny, intelligent and confident…Yet I am not motivated or constrained by the same things that most good people are…(As a child), I envisioned the people in my life as robots that turned off when I wasn’t directly interacting with them…I have never killed anyone, but I have certainly wanted to. I may have a disorder, but I am not crazy. In a world filled with gloomy, mediocre nothings populating a go-nowhere rat race, people are attracted to my exceptionalism like moths to a flame.” (“Confession of a Sociopath” - M.E. Thomas).

Now, to be fair, none of us are spared corruption. Even for those who do not subscribe to the religiously-loaded concept of the original sin, history has shown us what we are capable of. The combustible mix of extreme religion and self-preservation has exposed us to the most horrid chapters in history. Wars fought for land, prestige and   power have been our heritage since the beginning of time. Our struggles are tainted by blood, slavery and massacres. On a personal scale, we are at times ruled by deceit, lust, envy, hatred, arrogance, apathy, revenge, sadism, recklessness, indolence and pride.

No one can whitewash our history of human savagery unless we start all over with a Noah-like annihilation of sorts and a self-administered amnesia jab to leave our sordid past behind for good. Good luck hoping the second time over will be better. But my point is not about the savagery of humanity - that much is undeniable. My point is about our redemption - for as insane is our cruelty, equally empowering is our indomitable conscience and free-will to save us from a point of no return.

With every evil raised to the fort, the good in us also rises to meet the challenge. And such good and evil can co-exist in one lifetime with good ultimately triumph. However, this Manichean struggle of good versus evil will be endless because love's prodigal is hate, and light's blind spot is darkness.

Yet, are there those who simply defy this human leaning towards eventual redemption? And if the arc of history is bent towards justice, then for this rare group, is it bent towards impenitence, unforgiveness, and bitterness?

It is said that one should judge not lest ye be judged. But what if such a person exists regardless of whether he is being judged or not? Worse still, what if it is our silence or goodwill or compassion that we unwittingly extend over and over again to them that aids them in perpetuating their agenda? In the same way that I dread that such people should exist and thrive in the world that I live in, my fear is that the far-sobering reality is never held a hostage to my wishful thinking or religiously-manicured sensibilities.

The world is the way it is because it can't be anything else. 
I can surely wish that I am wrong about the existence of such people but I can't wish that if I am wrong (that is, they do exist), they would be redeemable. The glaring reality of this rapacious world just doesn't offer me that luxury. In other words, my idealism can only inspire me from within to hope for the best in mankind, but that will not change the existence of such rare breed of people whose deathbed's regret is that they have not done enough to crush their enemies, exterminate their opposition, exploit the ones who love them unconditionally, or amass enough power and wealth at the expense of those they deemed dimwitted enough to part with their life's savings, devotion and trust.

For such people, the tolls and trails of the misfortune, misery and suffering they leave behind is just not long enough.  And if Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin, Kim Jong II and Pol Pot, to name just a few, are historical tyrants to go by, then I guess the only hope I have is twofold: First, that their murderous exploits in this world would be short-lived; and second, that I should always guard my own heart, for out of it flows the issues of life - both good and evil. Cheerz.

God ordered me to kill

One day, God came to me and handed me a hit list. He wanted me to be his assassin. He wanted me to kill for him. I was professional about it, stoic. I didn’t ask any question. I didn’t see the need. God was serious about the assassination and he even gave me the weapons, the location, the date and the time for the hit to be carried out.

God wanted me to kill in various specific ways. He had provided me with a rifle, a knife, a grenade, a rope and the last weapon was to be kept a secret until I have killed all those named in the list. I took a glance at the list and noticed familiar names. Some of them I knew too well. I had shared intimate moments with them. We had even made vows of brotherhood. It is going to be a hard call. The trigger is going to be heavy. My heart is going to rebel. They are literally friends I knew for many years.

But I have to put personal feelings aside. I have to rise to the occasion. I have to fulfill my sacred call of duty.

I committed their names to heart and destroyed the list. I then went for my first kill. I recalled the location, dates and time and I had the target’s face in my mind. It was a vivid and painful remembrance. I took position at a vantage point and adjusted the scope on my rifle. This was to be a one-bullet-one-kill mission. I waited for the target to appear. He appeared as God had timed it. He was naked, in the flesh. I saw his nudity, his shame. His eyes were filled with lust. His name was pleasure.

I took a deep breath, caught him in my cross-hair, and pulled the trigger. I heard the bullet screeched out of my chamber and sliced through the air. The shot hit the target right between the eyes and he fell like a timber. I stood there for a while to confirm the kill and walked away with some remorse. I felt I had lost a kin. But I also felt a deep release.

My next target was to be killed with a knife. It was to be a close-up murder. At the predestined location and time, I hid myself in my second target’s house. I waited for him to return. He returned drunk that night. He was self-indulging. He reeked of carnality. His name was sloth.

With his back facing me, unaware of what was coming, I raised the knife and plunged it deep into his back. I heard the crack of his spine and he lumbered onto the sofa.  He was still alive, crawling away from me, begging for mercy. He was breathless. I felt a tight grip in my heart, a call for restraint. But I knew I had to complete the job. I grabbed hold of the handle of the knife and twisted it hard. It tore his flesh and sinews and split his vertebrae. There and then, he was dead. Sloth was dead.

I was shivering as I brought to mind my third target. Her name softened my heart. It was to be the easiest as well as the most difficult assassination. She was vanity.  But I knew I had passed a point of no return by then. I had to do it quick before I change my mind. I sought her out and confronted her face to face.

At first, she was pleased to see me. She didn't know what was coming. I had hidden the grenade from her. She thought it was a friendly visit as was before. I recall I visited vanity many times in the past. She was always there for me when I needed to be petty, envious, bitter and vindictive. I told her that I have to let her go. I told her about God’s hit list. I told her she was one of the targets.

She was in a state of shock. She shook in fear. She asked me to let her live. But I shook my head and shed a tear for her. I then turned away, rushed out and threw the grenade into the house. Behind me was a loud explosion as shattered debris flew in all direction. In a split second, vanity was no more.

I turned to the hit list. My last target on the list was a man I knew too well. He was my confidant, counselor and friend. I agonized over killing him with the rope in my hand. I struggled real hard contemplating finishing the job. I knew his usual haunt and went there early to prep myself up.

When pride entered the room, I could sense that he knew something was wrong. I avoided eye contact with him, trying not to give too much away. But somehow pride knew what was coming. We were so close that we could read each other’s mind. He smiled at me and told me that he knew the purpose of my visit. He then asked for the rope and I gave it to him, trembling. He said nothing after that and I watched intently as my old friend hung himself before me.

I was speechless after that. I lingered for a while before I left his place, fighting back the tears. There was a deep unrest in my soul as well as a feeling of enduring liberty in my heart.

As I left, I took stock of what I had done. I had killed pleasure, sloth, vanity and pride all in one day. They all died in my hands. I have almost fulfilled God’s hit list save for one more target.  It was the final target that had to be killed in order to prevent those whom I had killed from rebirthing. It was not on the hit list but it was written in my heart long before God wanted me to be his hit man.

At this time, God appeared before me. He was pleased by my obedience. He said, “Well done my son.” Then he took me to a place from whence I could see a Cross at a distance. He then signaled me to do the necessary. I looked at God to draw the courage and strength I needed to walk the narrow Calvary road that was destined for me and me alone.

But God assured me that I won’t be alone in this journey. He said he will be with me through it all. I then nodded in confidence and took the first step of faith in this journey towards the Cross. It was a long journey to the death of self. And at the end of it, I shall gain true liberty in Christ. Cheerz.

* image from stock.clip.com