Those who read my blog often know of my struggles through the years with clinical depression. I'll say it again, my belief in G-d and the love of my son kept me from the ultimate sacrilege of taking my life. Before I sought the help I needed, those were my defenses against those dark thoughts. They still are today.
This is why I'm continually writing about the horrors of suicide bombers. The name is a misnomer. They aren't committing suicide. They are committing murder. These people may have been coerced or chosen willingly to do this evil act. Whatever the case may be, they choose to commit murder and at the same time take their own lives.
The people who order them are just as culpable of murder as the person who commits the deed.
Homicide bombers are a perversion. They are not glorious defenders, warriors, or freedom fighters. They are anathema to very goodness of life. They have chosen the path of darkness.
They leave destruction and heartache in their wake. Their victims are not armed. They are babies, teenagers, grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters.
Life is a very precious gift. I know this from my struggles. It outrages me that these homicide bombers are sometimes defended as freedom fighters. They are not fighting for freedom. They are part of a culture that seemingly glorifies death instead of life.
Every time I read about them, rather it's in Israel, Iraq, India, Bali, or other places in the world, I feel such heartache. All those innocent lives extinguished in a blink of an eye because someone made the choice to worship death instead of life.
The homicide bombers are a perversion. Labeling them as anything other aides in spreading their perversion.