What drives a man to murder?
Very few know for certain. All that is known is that something happens between the loading of the gun and the pulling of the trigger. Something almost none of us will ever understand.
Well, such is the case for one deeply religious young man. He's being pushed a little too far. Deeply religious, but even that won't save him. In fact, it may just hurt him more than help him.
"Get down you fucking moore! Get down!" said an attacker as he took a leather belt to his victim. The scene is a shower, so that every crack of the belt is hitting bare skin.
"Look at this freak," the attacker said to his friend who had been watching the incident. "What's the matter? Your God can't help you now can he? Allah," he said in a mocking tone, "Allah dammit, get up you stupid piece of trash so I can kick your ass again!"
Yet, the poor boy wouldn't. Non-violent, he would not strike him, no matter what he had done. So he stayed on the ground, crying, wondering why someone would do this.
His tears mixed with the water from the shower head and eventually friends of his came to his aid. They picked him up and moved him back to his room at the other end of the hallway.
The school was designed like that. One shower room on all three floors. The actual school was a separate building. Not that any of that matters.
The next morning he woke up with dozens of red marks all over his body. The kids in the hallways shouted jeers toward him, as if he had done wrong. Still he stuck by his teachings.
He walked into the deans office. The dean was a round man, with a fancy suit and big cigar almost always hanging from his lip. He encouraged the boy to sit down, and the young lad told his story about the beating in the shower. He couldn't drop a name because he couldn't immediately recognize him. But just when all looked lost, was the sound of snickering in the hallway. He whipped around and standing just outside door was his attacker, staring back at him.
"It was him," said the young Muslim.
The dean brought the other boy into the room and immediately popped the question, "Did you attack this boy right here?"
"No sir, I did not," he said with some reserve.
"Yes you did, I'd recognize that ugly face anywhere!" cried the victim as he let his religious guard down for a second.
"No, I have six people who will place me nowhere near where you got beat up!"
"You don't even know when it happened! You liar!" the anger began to really swell inside him.
The dean finally spoke up, "Did you happen to get a name out of this rumor?"
"Yeah, I got a name, but I ain't no rat. I ain't selling him out for nothing!"
The dean lowered his head and spoke again. He turned to the abused and said, "Listen, if it's your word against his and his friends, then I can't do a thing. If you can find witnesses to back you up you might have a case otherwise, my hands are tied."
The poor boy spent most of the day searching for the people he recognized in that bathroom. He ended up talking to four of them, all of whom turned their noses up to him. He had no hope.
Later that same day, he found himself talking with his roommate. He had always been his friend. Lately, he seemed to be the only one he had.
"Listen, the dean is just going to sit around on his fat ass," said his friend. "You have to take matters into your own hands. Listen, he may be bigger than you but he can't take both of us. We can corner him in the schoolyard and beat the hell out of him. Sweet revenge!"
The poor, poor kid barely made eye contact with his good friend, "I will not resort to violence. It is against my religion."
His friend stood up to speak, "Well, it's also against every Christian's religion and every Jew's. Man, if everyone who's religion preached non-violence listened to it, there would be no violence in the whole stinking world. But they don't, so it may be time for you to break your rules a little." His friend just stared at him, "Ok, ok, what about this, there are some boys down the hall who, for just a little bit of money, will beat the tar out of this punk. Hell, they'll do it right in front of the dean if you pay them enough. What do you think about that?"
They boy stood up and looked at his friend. The gaze he threw was one of both anger and intrigue. But his answer was simple, "No, that would be bringing about violence, I won't do it!"
"Fine have it your way!"
The next day was a Sunday. He signed out for some time to visit the local mosque and get some spiritual advice on what to do. Now, since this meeting is sacred even I can't look into it.
But I can tell you he came out content with the answer he got.
The boy who had administered the beating lay asleep in his bed. He was awakened by some movement in the room. His roommate was getting in late, no big deal, he thought. Then a hand cupped across his mouth and with amazing speed he was gagged and bound, all before he could come to his senses. There there was a sharp blow to his head followed by darkness.
When he awoke he found himself bound to a small wooden chair in what appeared to be a storage closet. When his eyes refocused he saw the face of his captor, the little Muslim boy whom he had beat about forty-eight hours ago.
"Well, if it isn't that little punk who was big with his belt. You beat me like a dog and now the dog's biting back," said the captor. "Who's big now?"
The gag prevented him from speaking.
"Doesn't matter. Listen, you want to beat me because I'm a Muslim, Mr. Big Bad Christian, fine, now I get my dues! You will die just as your religion dictates. You will get what you say you have always wanted!"
He delivered another blow to the head and dragged him out into the woods near the school and into a small clearing where he had constructed a crude wooden cross. He nailed his former attacker to the structure and using ropes he had on hand and some nearby branches and a tree trunk, erected the cross. But he was not finished, for he must feel the wrath of hell. He then struck a match and lit the cross and watched. His former attacker woke up just in time to feel his leg burning, the flesh peeling right off of it.
There was a muffled scream.
The next morning the charred remains of his body were found. So suddenly, everyone knew the truth behind the attack. They also knew who the murderer was.
They, like an angry mob stormed into his room. However, there they found the Muslim boy, hanging by his shoe laces, dead.
Everyone wondered how the pacifist could do such a horrible thing. However, if any one of them had had the foresight to learn about his religion, they may have found the answer.
You see a Muslim who dies in a holy war goes to paradise. Maybe, just maybe he considered this a holy war. Maybe, just maybe.
However, if they had the foresight to learn about this religion, maybe, just maybe they could have accepted him and avoided all of this.