Do we blame the murderer?

Or do we blame his alcoholic father who beat him and his mother?

Do we blame the weak mother who stayed with the alcoholic father and allowed it to happen?

Or do we blame the mother’s stepfather who raped her every other night for three years?

Do we blame the stepfather’s uncle who snuck in his room one night when he was visiting from out of town?

Or do we blame the uncle’s mother who died, or his father who abandoned him for a life of drugs?

Do we hate and look down on them for not having the strength to break the cycle?

Or do they hate and look down us for not loving them, our neighbors, as ourselves?

Do we think our sins are less than theirs?

Or do we see our pride and judgment for what they really are?

Do we think it’s okay to hide in our ignorance and in our safe bubbles?

Or do we see what it means when we ignore or condemn the freaks, the one’s we don’t understand, or the ones whose sins are “greater” than ours?

Do we think we are good or better than anyone?

Or do we see our own sins and especially our “lesser” sins that contribute to the sins of others?

Do we blame us poor pitiful sinners for what we’ve done or haven’t done, for what’s been done or not done, and for whats been given or not given to us?

Or do we go to the beginning and blame the serpent who orchestrated all the sins of yesterday, today, and tomorrow?

Do we strive to do better once we know this?

Or do we know we can’t trust in ourselves to do better, but only in God’s love, goodness, and power that works through us?

Again I ask, do we?