There are those among us that speak of evil. They speak about evil as if there is some big, global conspiracy of evil-doers that plot to reverse the course of history and drive our world into a tirade of chaos, destruction, and death. In this world, it is only the actions of the many, in small, every day moments of good, that can reverse their diabolical schemes of mass sin and deceipt. It is our daily choice to simplify our lives, narrow our views, and take comfort in our righteousness that make us superior, that make us favored in the world, that make us good.
This salvation that is offered to us, this path to divinity that is shown to us, is most often espoused by those who sit in comfortable chairs. Whether they be sitting in front of a camera, behind a confessional, or in lofty offices in capital cities, our greatest warriors against evil and deception most often refuse to confront the evil that lies on their doorstep. These righteous men stare in horror at the stain on the floor while ignoring the death around them.
Despite their rantings and ravings about the nothingness of global evils, there are those of us that have stared evil in the face, and seen only a mirror. In my life I have many lofty goals and accomplishments of which I can be proud. I have worked hard to improve the lives of those around me. I have not always accomplished the goals I have set for myself, but I have always done what I felt was best for the greater good. And yet, while I commit myself to this lofty plain of selfless acts and noble devotions, I have chosen to neglect and ignore the small, every day acts of selfishness and greed. In the long run, most of these daily acts have little or no individual effect on the greater good. I have not ruined anyone’s life, I have not caused insurmountable sorrow, nor have I even failed to help those I loved who were in need. And yet, I have, without a question, commited evils.
These evils are not the global evils that threaten the very fabric of our society so vehemently feared by the men in comfortable chairs. They are smaller acts, simpler, and face to face. They are small, selfish acts that accomplish little more than the “expanding of my horizons,” or other attempts to understand the evil acts of those around me by committing identical acts. Harm? What harm is done? This is a question I can not possibly answer, and any attempt to do so accomplishes little more than driving me deeper into fear and loathing of myself and my capabilities.
These acts will not cause kings to fall, or governments to go to war, but they could, and perhaps do, affect the people I see on a daily basis. Small acts that change my world like a veil over my eyes. I provide myself with meaningless justifications that accomplish little more than my own peace of mind. And yet it is this peace of mind that allows me to commit these acts again, and again, and again.
Who am I? What am I capable of? These are questions that are as horrific as they are irrelevant. I am simply that which I have already been, and I am simply capable of that which I have already done. This statement elicits in me both pride and sorrow, for I have found my limits, and I have crushed them like sticks before the flood, and left little more than destructive tendencies in my path.
Evil? What do men in comfortable chairs know of evil? True warriors against evil fight no one but themselves. My greatest sorrow in this terrible quest for understanding is that I have learned from it little more than fear of myself. My greatest accomplishment is that I no longer fear the capabilities of others, for there is no greater evil than that which I have already committed.