Justice

Many years ago in religion class at Immaculate Conception School, Wellsville NY,  the idea of the judge as Great Equalizer impressed itself upon me, to the point, even, of a little OCD.  King Solomon was the first judge. Said Sister Mary Frances.  These two women came before him, fighting over a baby, since one woman's child had died. Both women claimed the squirming, screaming infant as her own.  But this being way before genetic testing, no one could say for sure who was lying.

The judge said the answer was simple: he would just split the kid between them.  And we're not talking shared custody, either.  Solomon hoisted up his big sword with one hand, and with the other, held the baby down on a table.  Just as the heavy weapon began to slice the air in its downward heft, one mother - the real one - began to wail and grab for her son. Solomon put the sword back into its sheathe and handed the kid over to his rightful owner.  Case closed.

Those Old Testament stories scared the Behjezus out of me. That's because they were so lacking in compassion, and Jesus was The Savior.  Except I remembered that mother screaming, as if her child dying would be her own death.  Wise awl Solomon had a knack for drama, for getting people to react.  Not unlike Judge Judy, who knows how to bring people to their knees by pushing the right button, long and hard enough.  There's your 5 minutes of fame - how'd ya like it???!  Perhaps these judges have iron nerves. This is how it's gonna be.  Why?  Because Father knows best. Or Mother. Flip a coin. These aren't who you would classify as Highly Sensitive People to be able to make such assured calls.  Damn complexities!  Binaries rule! Is there a mite of compassion in righteous judgments made for the good of the many? Maybe.

Recall, if you will, The High Priestess. She's in a similar setup: between two columns, staring without wincing, crowned by the moon.  But she is not of this earth, as Justice is.  While High Priestess's robes seem to transmute into water around her feet, and she is nearly encased in a beehive of breathing pomegranates, the judge is a glorified civil servant.  Her robes are serviceable, but not ostentatious.  She has the golden light of righteousness in back of her, but a dull and heavy tapestry is tacked up between the columns somewhat obscuring that light of wisdom.  Even Justice here doesn't know - or remember - how she figured out who weighed in as guitly, who came out smelling like a rose.  Pay no attention to the light behind the veil - just attend to the word of this world-weary bueracrat.  She's done her homework. 

The columns that circumscribe tireless Justice are equally dull grey, unlike the trippy ensignia'd black and white columns that embrace High Priestess.  All things are equal when Justice gets done with you.  The scales don't even whisper. The Sword may as well be stuck in stone.  Her shining right foot is forward.  The left - or errant - foot is safe asleep behind the robes.  There is nothing gauzy about this woman.  While High Priestess is clothed in multifarious shades of moonlight, this sage is wearing blood-red (for swift and merciless edicts?) and a cloak of lizard-textured green (for chameleon-like mutability? Just what do I have to do to get you into that prison cell?  Or out of my courtroom by 2pm? ) 

But check it out: our judge has a clunky, yet authority-rendering crown. And in the center of it? A jewel.  Where her third eye would be.  She is just hooked up.  We just have to trust her.