When “A Life is a Life” Rings Hollow

Recently, I commented on someone’s Facebook post regarding Charlie Kirk’s death: “Rest in piss.” The poster unfriended me as a result, and scolded me with the phrase “A life is a life.” On the surface, that sounds noble, even Christian. But the same person openly supports Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza. That contradiction deserves to be unpacked.

Jesus told His followers to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them (Matthew 5:44). Many Christians take this as a call to respond to hatred with grace. By that standard, mocking Kirk after death is uncharitable.

But Christianity also has another thread: he prophetic tradition. The Hebrew prophets denounced kings and rulers with brutal honesty. Jesus Himself called Herod “that fox” (Luke 13:32) and condemned religious leaders as “whitewashed tombs” (Matthew 23:27). Sharp words, in this tradition, are not petty insults but moral indictments. Whether my words fall into that tradition is up for debate. But the precedent stands.

If someone insists “a life is a life,” then Christian teaching requires consistency. God shows no partiality (Acts 10:34). Every life, whether Israeli or Palestinian, is of equal worth. Jesus went further, placing special emphasis on the vulnerable: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. (Matthew 25:40)

Supporting a war that takes thousands of innocent lives undermines the very principle they tried to use against me. The prophets warned Israel itself of judgment when it oppressed others: “Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream.” (Amos 5:24) You cannot bless bombs and call it Christian compassion.

So which stance is more at odds with Christianity? A sharp insult aimed at a pundit whose rhetoric fuels division, or support for state violence that kills children? If we measure by the Gospel’s core commitments — justice, mercy, peacemaking — the second weighs heavier.

Christianity calls us not just to kindness in tone but to solidarity with the oppressed. “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9) is not a suggestion. It is a central demand of discipleship.

A life is a life. But if we really believe that, then it applies to every human beings, not just to the ones we admire politically. If we claim Christianity, we cannot apply compassion selectively. It is hypocrisy to weep for a pundit’s dignity while ignoring the suffering of children under bombs. If Christ’s words mean anything, they demand more from us than that.

Reconciling Ozzy’s Legacy

Ozzy Osbourne was never meant to be a saint. He bit the head off a bat and dove, survived decades of drug abuse, tried to kill his wife (while under the influence of drugs), and still made his way into a global icon. Like many public figures though — especially from his generation — he carried contradictions. And lately, one of those contradictions has come under fire: his support for Zionism.

As someone who grew up worshipping Sabbath and Ozzy, I’ve been struggling to reconcile my love for his legacy with my politics. I’m anti-Zionist. I believe in the liberation of Palestine and the end of apartheid. And Ozzy’s apparent support for Israel during a time of intense suffering in Gaza felt like a gut punch.

But then came his farewell show: Back to the Beginning. A titanic goodbye organize by none other than Tom Morello: guitar god, anti-Zionist activist, and arguably one of the most politically consistent artists of our time. Morello curated the whole event, helped raise nearly $200 million for Parkinson’s and children’s hospitals, and sat side-by-side with Ozzy to send him off.

So what the hell do I do with that?

Do I cancel Ozzy? Do I cancel Morello for working with him? Do I cancel myself for loving them both?

No. I sit with the contradictions. Because real politics aren’t clean. They’re messy, emotional, and riddled with human inconsistency.

Ozzy supported Black Lives Matter. He stood up for the LGBTQ+. He raised a staggering amount of money for causes that matter. He was also, like many aging boomers, wildly out of his depth when it came to the geopolitics of Israel and Palestine. That doesn’t excuse it, but it does contextualize it, especially considering his declining health and the heavy medications he was on during his final years.

Morello’s participation doesn’t “excuse” Ozzy either, but it does suggest that celebrating someone’s musical legacy doesn’t always mean endorsing their politics. That nuance is lost in today’s discourse, which often demands total purity or total exile. But art, like people, is rarely so simple.

I can love “Mr. Crowley” and still rage against apartheid. I can blast “War Pigs” and say Ozzy got it wrong. And I can respect the farewell show while also wishing that one of the final statements of a metal god hadn’t included a blind spot so many in the West still carry.

Again, rest in power, Ozzy. And may the rest of us keep pushing — louder, harder, and more unapologetically — for a world where all people live free from occupation and oppression.

Free Palestine.

On Palestine, Israel, and the Rotten Core of Empire

I’m not going to dance around it: I stand with Palestine. Not out of trendiness, not because it’s the “left” thing to do, but because I believe in justice, liberation, and the end of colonial domination wherever it shows up, however it dresses itself. And in this case, it’s wearing the face of a U.S.-backed apartheid state.

Let’s get this out of the way: critiquing the Israeli government is not antisemitism. That’s a deflection tactic used to shut down valid criticism of a violent, militarized system of occupation. If you’re more outraged by someone saying “Free Palestine” than by the bombing of schools, hospitals, and entire apartment blocks, you might want to take a long, hard look at your moral compass—and maybe replace the batteries.

This isn’t a “both sides” issue. That framing is a cop-out. One side is occupying. One side is being occupied. One side has nuclear weapons, tanks, and billions in U.S. funding. The other side has rocks, desperation, and a memory of their homeland before the bulldozers came.This isn’t ancient history. This is now. This is 2025. This is settler-colonialism on full display.

And if you think this has nothing to do with you—if you’re watching from your couch in the U.S. thinking this is just another faraway tragedy—think again. Your tax dollars are funding this. Your government sends weapons, signs off on the bloodshed, and spins the PR machine to paint genocide as “self-defense.”

We’ve been trained to accept empire as normal. Palestine reminds us what happens when people refuse to roll over for it. That’s why they’re demonized. That’s why their resistance is painted as terrorism while the bombs dropped on their homes are called “precision strikes.” Orwell would be exhausted.

Do I condemn violence? I condemn occupation. I condemn systems that force people into cages and then act surprised when they fight back. I condemn pretending that peace can be brokered while one side is holding all the cards and the other is buried under rubble.

The solution isn’t another round of U.N. scolding or a new “peace plan” written by war profiteers. The solution is decolonization. Land back. End the siege. Dismantle apartheid. Let Palestinians live, breathe, return.

Until then, no justice, no peace.

And if that makes you uncomfortable, good. It should.