ON THE VIOLENT MAN

Composer Benjamin Britten never used the word ‘gay’ of himself, because, he said, it’s not a gay position to be in. For most of his life his relationship with Peter Pears was illegal; he wore insults continually; he was aware of shadows of ruin, blackmail, murder, suicide. Not so gay.

            ‘Preserve me from the violent man,’ says the Psalmist of the Jews. The murder of fifty individuals at the gay nightclub Pulse — their individual deaths — is part of the history of terrorism not least by violent religion’s ability to cloak crimes, and indeed the dregs of religion, both Christian and Muslim, have rejoiced. And America’s infamous availability of military weapons to the unstable is the direct cause. But those who died at Pulse were murdered because they were there, in that specific, gay place, within a straight culture drenched in intolerance and self-congratulation.

            The Psalmist sees the wicked, bending the bow, arrow on string, ready to shoot. ‘Deliver me, O God, out of the hand of the wicked.’ The Psalms never mince words. The wicked are the wicked; the violent man is to be feared.

            Good heart may be taken in the outpouring of grief across the globe, Tel Aviv’s rainbow lights of solidarity, the Muslim Mayor of London in vigil, displays of lights, prayers, ribbons, memes, blogs. Inconceivable in Benjamin Britten’s time.

            It’s not over. Culture is us. I want an apology from hierophants and churches. At the highest level. Lord, let me live so long to see it.