But there was far more to the underlying tension than the strained relations between the races or resentment toward the police. Even the protestors had a hard a time maintaining their outrage over the death of George Floyd and attempting to distance themselves from the rioters. The rioters were a combination of colors and causes. But even those in the crowds who just went to watch noted a fury that went deeper than predetermined political agendas.

A large part of the outburst of raw rage came from the fact that everyone was being driven crazy in isolation. Locked in their rooms, physically separated from the world, connected only to the unreality of the screen, which is as unsatisfying as the unreality of porn. Closed businesses, cancelled events, loss of jobs. Forced distancing, masked faces, being herded back-and-forth to the designated troughs. Prohibited from the normal of every day, but also the special days. No birthday parties, no weddings, no funerals. While many people rediscovered the adventure of home life, the joy of spending extended time with their families, and actually found peace and renewal in the required retreat from the world, many more could not cope with the fractured relations within their families, the inconvenience of having to raise their own children rather than assigning that duty to day care of public school. And many more had no families to go to.

On the first night of rioting in Minneapolis, one of the gentlemen destroying a checkout terminal at Target was heard to say, “The system is broken.”

They were being driven crazy, and then they started acting crazy when they poured out into the streets, violating – among other things – proper social distancing. They were no longer isolated, but they were still very much alone. The streets were filled with lonely people. For who is lonelier than an anarchist?

Civilization is a fragile affair. It is a lot of work. And it demands cooperation. The cooperation could cease at any moment, at any provocation. The constructive work could stop. And everything could crumble. The decay can turn into rapid destruction when aided by the anarchist.

The anarchist ultimately eyes the throne not to destroy it, but to occupy it in order to rule over the destruction of everything else. Satan is the architect of anarchy.

The self-appointed mouthpieces on the subject of racial injustice are saying that the anger in the streets is sending a messages. But the message is lost when it only creates more anger.

People are not merely thinking badly; they’ve stopped thinking altogether. Thinking, like civilization itself, is hard work. Most people would rather avoid hard work, especially the hard work of thinking.

“Let us have charity to all,” says Chesterton. “The muddle is not merely due to the sin of anger; that is, to people losing their tempers with each other. It is also due to the sin of sloth; to people not taking the trouble to listen to each other, or take note of what each other really says. My first point, therefore, is that sloth, intellectual sloth, as well as mere emotional anger, is a great modern foe to charity.”

People are angry. But they are also avoiding the hard work of thinking. They are thoughtless. They are lazy in the head. It is the deadly sin of anger combined with the deadly sin of sloth. The antidote to both is charity. Love is patient and gentle, but it is also creative. It builds up. It works hard. It encourages and motivates and takes positive action.

Volcanoes are loud, but they are not the voice of God.

In I Kings 19, we read about the prophet Elijah on Horeb, the Mountain of God. He is taking shelter in a cave because the kingdom of Israel is a godless mess, tearing down altars and persecuting believers and killing the prophets. The word of the Lord comes to Elijah and tells him to stand outside the cave for the Lord will be passing by. First comes a heavy rock-crushing wind, but the Lord is not in the wind. Then comes an earthquake, but the Lord is not in the earthquake. Then comes a fire, but the Lord is not in the fire. Then, a still, small voice. (The New American Bible unpoetically renders it to us as: “a tiny, whispering sound.”)

As faithful Christians, as Catholics, as Chestertonians, we have a responsibility and a sacred duty to calmly and charitably speak the truth that there is no justice without God and no peace without Christ and no renewal without the Holy Spirit – even if right now we are the last ones anyone is going to listen to. But after media-fueled madness has shaken the foundations of our society, after the monuments have been toppled, after the fires of the riots have stopped, perhaps we can be the still, small voice.