Wrathful Empathies is my dose of tough love. Three men in my life were very tough on me. My father, my local priest and my metal shop instructor. Even though I only had his class for one semester of one year, I will never forget that guy. He was a brief encounter in my life compared to my priest and dad. That made him different. My time with him was both very limited, and indifferent. I was just another faceless boy amongst hundreds to pass through his shop that semester. Apparently, my temporal nature was meaningless to him. He treated me as sternly as both my dad and priest. I feared all of them equally. I never understood why my shop class teacher was so mean until years later. He was an angry old man quick to yell, cuss and shame. Of course, I had no interest in metal working so the class was a complete waste to me. However, I will always remember one thing: rules were iron clad in this shop and not following them had serious consequences, mostly by yelling at me. I was fortunate in that way. When I grew into a man, I realized the metal shop was a dangerous place. Machinery could mangle fingers, sharp sheets of metal could slice them off entirely. He didn’t know me personally but he took his responsibility seriously nonetheless. The fear he instilled in me made me follow the rules even though I didn’t know why they were important. Wrathful Empathies is my effort to offer the same level of instruction and oversight. God knows what may befall us. His scriptures should be heeded. He watches us dutifully. We should love that attention and caring.
