"What does a king of flesh and blood do when a city rebels against him?"
A few nights ago I saw video of American soldiers in Afghanistan shooting large projectiles into a wilderness from which they were drawing fire. These were young men who spoke of fighting so that they could come home. They were so undeniably young that their fierceness was as sweet as it was horrible. They were emissaries from a king of flesh and blood, and the plague was in their hands. They killed to be not killed. I wonder who our slaves are and who our slave masters are. I wonder if the first plague is the one we receive or the one we deliver.