It’s strange, but I’ve been thinking this week about

Judas, Hitler, and Genghis.

Those three guys are so notorious they only need one name.

Like Hannibal, Nero, or Saddam.

Can you imagine?

Can you imagine wielding so much power?

Channeling it to such misguided purposes, and to such infamy, that future generations would abandon the use of your name?

Can you imagine becoming a near-eternal symbol of humans at their worst?

– – –

I can’t.  But I don’t have to.

I’ve never had my name “retired”,

like Stalin, or Mussolini.

I’ll never have to worry about sticking out with such damnable distinction.

I’m just one of the crowd, along with every Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Every Laurie, Tonya, or Mary.

One of the crowd.  The faceless crowd.

Lining the streets as Jesus carries his cross.

– – –

My moniker may not be synonymous with evil,

but on this week, I can’t help but be mindful that there is darkness that lurks in my soul.

Even mine.

And as Jesus passes by, he sees me,

and sees into me.

And I shudder to realize

that this man

knows everything I’ve done.

He knows,

and he knows me

by name.