Predicting the future with any degree of accuracy is both speculative and risky, but it now seems likely that in about 13 months (September 11, 2011)—while the nation marks the 10th anniversary of the horror of the Sept. 11th attacks—appropriate expressions of retrospection and introspection will be overshadowed by something monumentally grotesteque. That decennial moment in the aftermath of the greatest act of terror inflicted on the American homeland will be mocked by ceremonies initiating the building of an Islamic mosque just yards away from where nearly 3,000 people were murdered.
Murdered in the name of Islam.
The stage was set this week for the upcoming obscene juxtaposition with a ruling by the New York City Planning Commission denying landmark status to the 152-year old building now standing on the site. Michael Bloomberg, the mayor of NYC, gave an impassioned, if tortured speech the other day with the Statue of Liberty as a backdrop, calling the decision and the building of the proposed multi-story facility a victory for religious liberty.
And we all know that Islam is all about religious liberty.
The project has long been referred to (by its promoters) as The Cordoba Initiative. Many Americans, who find history boring, have hardly noticed the designation. Possibly it makes them think of dad’s old car, that Chrysler with the “rich Corinthian leather” touted by the late Ricardo Monteban. But really, there is something else going on.
And it’s hiding in plain sight.
You see, Cordoba is an important name to Islamist supremacists because it refers to the caliphate established more than 1,200 years ago in Spain. The Muslims triumphed there over the “infidel” Christians and built a great mosque on the foundation of a Christian cathedral. They were all about symbolism even back then. The proximity of the proposed mosque to Ground Zero has nothing to do with co-existence or bridge building.
Cordoba is code for conquest.
Many analogies have been offered by opponents of the Mosque—all very fitting and compelling in my opinion—but one further one comes to mind. Most Americans old enough to remember have a certain four days in November of 1963 etched in memory. A youthful president was murdered, his young widow (she was just 34-years old at that moment) and small children led a nation of mourners in grief-stricken observance.
But what some forget is that the man who was charged with killing President Kennedy was buried in Texas, minus fanfare and with so few in attendance that reporters covering the event had to serve as pallbearers, just an hour or so after JFK’s body was lowered into sacred soil.
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