They sat in a group.  Some were holding sledge hammers; some were holding ropes; two held guns. 

    One woman, the apparent leader, spoke, “Brothers and sisters, we have rid ourselves of many hateful statues of men who have stood against freedom.  Pretty soon, as our families across the nation continue to follow in our example, the whole country will no longer have reminders of those who promoted racism and worshiped the symbols of chains for all races.  The people of all ethnicities have at one time or other been robbed, exploited, enslaved, or killed by the men who stand in perpetuity as symbols of self-imposed righteousness.”

    A man with wild red hair named Blaze stood.  “We will rid the history books of their existence, and in time with new generations, they will be remembered no more.”

    One young man, Caleb, stood from the back of the group.  “I want to address Lilith.”

    The leader stood. Her blonde, knotted dreads hung past her black, leather vest down to the thick brown belt that held up her baggy jeans.  The belt buckle was a skull.  “Yes, brother, you are new to the family, aren’t you?”

    “Yes, Lilith, I have been with you no more than a month, and I helped tear down the statue of Abraham Lincoln,” Caleb said.

    “Lincoln was a hypocrite.  While he said he hated slavery, Abraham Lincoln opposed treaty rights of the indigenous tribes in this country,” Lilith said, and several Native Americans raised their hammers in defiance and began chanting to the night air.”

    “But, I have a question,” Caleb said.  Everyone got quiet.  Why should there be any questions about their actions?  The reasons were clear.

    “Would not future generations learn from the atrocities of the past if these pieces of evidence were left in place?” Caleb sat down after making his inquiry..

    There was a rumbling throughout the group, but Lilith raised her hand for quiet.  “You ask a fair question, brother, one that has been asked many times before.  But, it is a naïve question.  For example, children as young as the first grade are taught that Christopher Columbus was a great explorer who discovered America.  Yet, the history books fail to add that he was a man who enslaved indigenous people.  Wealth was his purpose, not discovery.”

    Caleb nodded and said no more.

    Blaze stood.  “We have neglected one area in our assigned district.”

    “What is that?” Lilith asked.

    “The graveyards.  Those sites are plagued with statues, and we’ve never looked to see who is standing, casting shadow over the dead.”

    An affirmative nod and murmuring sound undulated throughout the crowd.  Blaze was pleased to see his words were embraced so easily.

    Lilith said they would explore the graveyards on the weekend.  “In the meantime, lay low.  Go to school.  Go to your jobs.  Take care of your families.  Draw no attention to yourselves.”

    The group then scattered, each to their own private lives.  Almost all of them had families; many were college students; a few were professionals, and all of them of every race had a hatred for slavery of every kind.  As Lilith said, “No one is so righteous as to have the honor of being made immortal through stone.”

    Caleb lived with his uncle, who was a fireman for the city. The searching teen had lost his parents in a house fire.  At breakfast the next morning, he asked his Uncle Herman, “What do you think about all of these statues being torn down?”

    Herman took a long drink of his coffee.  “I think no one has the right to be judge, jury, and executioner of the people those statues represent.  We didn’t live during that time, and so, we don’t have the full picture.”

    Caleb sat quietly thinking about his uncle’s words.

    “Just remember, son.  Destruction begets destruction,” Herman added.

    Clashes of ideologies battled in Caleb’s mind for the next few days. He heard Lilith’s words, No one is so righteous as to have the honor of being made immortal through stone.  That thought would be challenged with his uncle’s words, . . . Destruction begets destruction. The mental battle was so intense that Caleb hardly heard a word any of his teachers said.

    Saturday evening came, and Caleb told his uncle he was going out.  Herman gave the same caution he always did, “Be safe, and stay out of trouble.”  The 17-year-old nodded to his uncle who was watching ESPN.

    The group met in their same location down a back alley in an abandoned frame house.  Lilith asked if everyone had brought their “weapons of freedom” and everyone nodded.  Caleb had brought a rope.  He could tell the group was ready to go.  Like a predatorial pack of wolves who hadn’t eaten in days, they were hungry for prey.  Caleb could smell weed, and he saw several “family” members holding half-empty bottles of booze.

    “Now, remember,” Lilith said, “We have no desire to disrespect graves.  Leave them alone.  But any statue is fair game.  We have allies in the city who have placed stacks of bricks to throw at statues,” she paused, “or any intruder who tries to stand in our way.”

    There was an uproarious howl, and everyone piled into trucks and cars.  They were off to fight for freedom.

    Quietly climbing fences, they entered the Celestial Cemetery.  At first, they walked among the dead.  Blaze said he felt an eerie sense of connection to the denizens beneath the soil.

    Lilith said, “That is because they are in bondage to death as much as we are to life.”

    Finally, they came to a statue of a woman who was holding up a torch.  

    “Hey,” said a member named Felix, “Isn’t that a replica of the Statue of Liberty?”

    Blaze scratched his head.  “Does the Statue of Liberty have wings?”

    “I don’t know,” Felix said, “but Lilith said all statues were fair game.  Anyway, the Statue of Liberty is just one more lie from a capitalistic society that wants to build wealth off the backs of the poor.”

    Some took sledge hammers to the granite form.  Some used axes.  Caleb wrapped his rope above the pedestal that held the statue. Slowly, but surely, the granite showed cracks.  The torch came tumbling down, then the outstretched arm that held the symbol of light toppled to the foot of the pedestal.  Two men were chopping at the head, and finally the decapitated and scarred top fell and rolled into the darkness.  Many cheered.  Some upturned bottles of whiskey to celebrate their victory.

    Lilith, who had been standing apart from the attackers, said, “Let us move on.  We have momentum.  There are more to tear down.  Remember, no human deserves a place of eternity in the collective conscience.”

    “Look!  There is one over there by that large tree,” cried Felix.

    But, before they could move, a tall, swarthy man stepped into their path.  He was carrying a bucket of tools.  They all froze.

    The wind began to pick up as Lilith approached the stranger.  Her hair extensions were blowing furiously in her face, above her head like some distorted diadem out toward the dark.  

    “Who are you?” she demanded.

    “I am the caretaker of Celestial Cemetery.”

    “Why do you cross our path?”

    “To warn you,” the man said.

    “Warn us of what?  You intend to stop us?  You are but a common laborer being exploited by the system.  Join us, brother,” Lilith said.

    The wind was picking up speed and lightning and thunder could be heard in the distance.

    “I do not want to take part in your folly.  I only want to say you are putting your eternal souls in jeopardy.”

    “Get out of the way, you worthless puppet!” Blaze yelled, and he threw a brick at the caretaker, hitting him in the head.  The man went down, and his bucket of tools fell out on the ground.”

    This was all it took to further incite the groups’ fervor.  The first drops of rain began to fall, but they didn’t notice.  They were drunk from the booze, the weed, and the joy of their wanton sacrilege.  All but Caleb ran to the statue they saw under the tree.  Caleb stayed to check on the fallen man.

    The rain was pouring.  The wind was whipping up around their bodies, causing their frenzy to become other-worldly.  They chanted.  They tossed their heads from side to side.  It mattered not whose statue they were bringing down.  The cause of freedom was lost in demonic madness.  In their minds, they were one with the storm, which was sent to strengthen, to affirm their righteous indignation.  They hacked at the statue and slashed at the sandaled feet.  Finally, what was upright was now a maimed jumble of granite.  

    Lilith praised the group.  “You are the servants of all that is right, and we will topple all allegiances and symbols of repression.  Let us go forth.”

    No one had noticed Caleb had stayed with the injured man.  The rain was pouring as if in an onslaught of anger while the wind rocked the trees and laid the grasses flat.  Debris flew everywhere, but Caleb tried to protect the still man.  Finally, the caretaker awakened.  He touched Caleb’s cheek.  Raindrops dripped off his eyes, mingling his tears with the storm’s rage.

    “Oh, thank God.  You are alive,” Caleb said.

    The man smiled.  “I am fine.  You need to go before the authorities get here.  I can see, you are different from them.”

    “Are you sure?  I don’t want to leave you.”

    Rising to a sitting position, he said.  “See, I am fine.”

    Caleb had a handkerchief in his back pocket, and he gave it to the man.  “What is your name?”

    He took Caleb’s offering and blotted the blood on his forehead.  “It doesn’t matter.  I am just a caretaker.  Now go.”

    Caleb stood and ran toward the gate that led out the cemetery.  The caretaker walked to the statue that had been torn down minutes before.  Granite arms rose up from broad shoulders of the decapitated statue.  But, as the man looked around, he could not find the head that had held the gentle smile. The lightning flashed light on the name of the pedestal. The caretaker read the name and closed his eyes and wept.

    The name carved into the granite was the name of Jesus.