On Hating Hunters and Becoming One
Listening to early morning gunfire roll across hills and valleys during November deer season, I used to hear the sound of evil. Hunters were out there committing willful acts of violence, taking the lives of fellow beings. What compelled them to inflict such gratuitous harm, violating the most basic principles of compassion and goodness? Sitting at the kitchen table munching granola, I found it incomprehensible.