It pulls us down. It seeps into our pours. It corrupts young flesh. It spoils the spirit.
The resistance. Always the resistance to good, to simple good - always preferring darkness to light. "A glimpse of endless unmarked days, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering".
We think it's cute. We think it's maybe kids being kids or Uncle Bob and his peccadillos or so and so who drinks too much or the slut down the street who is always seeking attention. And what harm does it do? Maybe it's Catholics making a case for intrinsic evils, or spiritualizing lust, or putting politics before Christ. Maybe it's a little drug use here, a cry for help there, a bit of abuse, a cover up for the abuse. A husband who deserts his wife. A wake of pain that spreads. Degeneracy, loving death, hating life.
We are wedded to it. We need new wineskins to hold the new wine, but we refuse both. We are corrupt and corrupting. Everything we touch. The air we breathe. The stink and rot of the death we have chosen, of the death we fight for jealously.
That's right. We not only sin. We fight for it jealously. And we turn on those who show us our sin.
Jesus Christ? We'll make Him what we want Him to be - an idol, a toy, a puppet, a god of our choosing.
But not always. We know the truth. We know how rotten we are. We know we need more than the mess we've made.