Here again I am tempted to cry woe upon these foolish doctors whose consciences are seared with a hot iron, who do not care in the least for their patients, and will be called to a terrible account for their criminal folly on the day of judgment. Then they will behold Him whom they have pierced by neglecting their neighbour's welfare, while pocketing his money, and will see at last that they ought to have laboured night and day, in order to acquire greater skill in the healing of disease. Instead of this they complacently go on trusting to chance, prescribing the first medicine they happen to find in their books, and leaving the patient and the disease to fight it out as best they can. They do not even trouble to enquire in what way the medicines they prescribe are prepared. Their laboratory, their furnace, their drugs are at the Apothecary's, to whom they rarely or never go. They inscribe upon a sheet of paper, under the magic word "Recipe," the names of certain medicines, whereupon the Apothecary's assistant takes his mortar and pounds out of the wretched patient whatever health may still be left in him.
Change these evil times, oh. God! Cut down these trees, lest they grow up to the sky! Overthrow these overweening giants, lest they pile mountain upon mountain and attempt to storm heaven! Protect the conscientious few who quietly strive to discover the mysteries of Thy creation!
It takes but a single wisp of poison to profane the whole body.
Most organizations consist of relatively good people who simply do as they are instructed, hoping the ends will justify the means, as they were told from those who garnered their trust.
The ones who obscure the means are the venom of the serpent, slithering its way between the cracks of the stones of the Church looking for moments to strike at the heels who enter. By hiding the means, they seek to delay the ends.
With antidote in hand, we may excise the venom but it is to the Lord who will smite the serpent once and for all. Until then, sit content that the head of the serpent was thoroughly bruised when a little girl accepted to be His handmaid not so long ago.
The harvest closes, and the radiance of the Phoenix can be seen on the back wall of the cave, ready to snuff out the shadows.
Sorry, I just feel a little poetic today, I guess...
No apology needed. Beautiful.
Beautiful thoughts here by our wonderful anon family. 🤗
Thanks for sharing u/sleepydude!