Archive for the ‘murder’ Category

I don’t think in goods or bads, just is’s

September 29, 2009

I don’t think in goods or bads, just is’s, What it is. Not what I was, want or hope. Whatever life is, it is, and bad and good got nothing to do with it. A snake eats the baby squirrel. Mamma squirrel may say that’s bad, but snakes got to eat. The life cycles are and only humans got the order f*****d up.

Charles Manson

Manson believed he was Jesus Christ reincarnated and even had himself strapped to a cross whilst his followers threw abuse at him or wailed in torment at his crucifixion. Manson orchestrated the murder of Roman Polanski’s wife, the actress Sharon Tate, who was heavily pregnant at the time. Others were killed that night including a couple called LaBianca. In the attack on Tate and others, they inflicted 102 stab wounds. Tex Watson, one of the lead perpetrators said, ‘I am the Devil and I am here to do the Devil’s business’.

Can God forgive the vilest of crimes?

August 25, 2009

(Hamlet, having killed his brother and married his wife…)

O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon’t,
A brother’s murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what’s in prayer but this two-fold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon’d being down? Then I’ll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? ‘Forgive me my foul murder’?
That cannot be; since I am still possess’d
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon’d and retain the offence?

Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 3

Forgiveness can only come without neglecting justice. Christ suffers that the demands of justice be met for the crime committed and yet mercy be extended to the repentant.

Guilt and Punishment

October 21, 2008

Some time ago, an excellent lady sought an interview with me, with the object, as she said, of enlisting my sympathy upon the question of ‘Anti-Capital Punishment’. I heard the reasons she urged against hanging men who had committed murder, and, though they did not convince me, I did not seek to answer them. She proposed that, when a man committed murder, he should be confined for life. My remark was, that a great many men, who had been confined half their lives, were not a bit the better for it, and as for her belief that they would necessarily be brought to repentance, I was afraid it was but a dream. ‘Ah!’ she said, good soul as she was, ‘that is because we have been all wrong about punishments. We punish people because we think they deserve to be punished. Now, we ought to show them that we love them; that we only punish them to make them better. ‘Indeed, madam,’ I replied, ‘I have heard that theory a great many times, and I have seen much fine writing upon the matter, but I am no believer in it. The design of punishment should be amendment, but the ground of punishment lies in the positive guilt of the offender. I believe that, when a man does wrong, he ought to be punished for it, and that there is a guilt in sin which justly merits punishment.’ She could not see that. Sin was a very wrong thing, but punishment was not a proper idea. She thought that people were treated too cruelly in prison, and that they ought to be taught that we love them. If they were treated kindly in prison, and tenderly dealt with, they would grow up much better, she was sure. With a view of interpreting her own theory, I said, ‘I suppose, then, you would give criminals all sorts of indulgences in prison. Some great vagabond, who has committed burglary dozens of times–I suppose you would let him sit in an easy chair in the evening, before a nice fire, and mix him a glass of spirits and water, and give him his pipe, and make him happy, to show how much we love him.’ Well, no, she would not give him the spirits; but, still, all the rest would do him good. I thought that was a delightful picture, certainly. It seemed to me to be the most prolific method of cultivating rogues which ingenuity could invent. I imagine that you could grow any number of thieves in that way, for it would be a special means of propagating all manner of wickedness. These very beautiful theories, to such a simple mind as mine, were the source of much amusement; the idea of fondling villains, and treating their crimes as if they were the tumbles and falls of children, made me laugh heartily. I fancied I saw the Government resigning its functions to these excellent persons, and the grand results of their marvellously kind experiments–the sword of the magistrate being transformed into a gruel-spoon, and the jail becoming a sweet retreat for people with bad reputations.

The Autobiography of Charles Spurgeon vol.1 ch.32