"Then one day I read about a book that said that the church is the only army that shoots its wounded"
About this Quote
A good line like this wins by smuggling a moral indictment inside a clean, military metaphor. “The only army that shoots its wounded” takes an institution built on care, confession, and restoration and flips it into something disciplined, punitive, and trigger-happy. The shock isn’t just the violence; it’s the betrayal. Armies, for all their brutality, have a code about extracting the injured. A church is supposed to be a refuge for the broken. By claiming the church uniquely violates that basic ethic, Miller aims at a particular hypocrisy: communities that preach grace but practice expulsion.
The intent feels less like atheistic scorched earth than an insider’s grief. “I read about a book that said…” is a distancing move, almost shy, as if the accusation is too heavy to claim outright. That framing suggests a moment of awakening: language finally arrives for something the speaker has witnessed but couldn’t name - the excommunication of addicts, the public shaming of sexual “failures,” the quiet disappearance of doubters, the way mental illness gets treated as sin or weakness.
Subtextually, the “wounded” aren’t enemies; they’re your own. The line targets boundary-policing done in the name of purity, where protecting the institution’s image matters more than protecting people. In the mid-to-late 20th-century American religious landscape - with its culture-war anxieties and performance-ready respectability - the metaphor lands because it exposes how quickly “community” turns into “crowd,” and how readily mercy becomes conditional when someone bleeds in public.
The intent feels less like atheistic scorched earth than an insider’s grief. “I read about a book that said…” is a distancing move, almost shy, as if the accusation is too heavy to claim outright. That framing suggests a moment of awakening: language finally arrives for something the speaker has witnessed but couldn’t name - the excommunication of addicts, the public shaming of sexual “failures,” the quiet disappearance of doubters, the way mental illness gets treated as sin or weakness.
Subtextually, the “wounded” aren’t enemies; they’re your own. The line targets boundary-policing done in the name of purity, where protecting the institution’s image matters more than protecting people. In the mid-to-late 20th-century American religious landscape - with its culture-war anxieties and performance-ready respectability - the metaphor lands because it exposes how quickly “community” turns into “crowd,” and how readily mercy becomes conditional when someone bleeds in public.
Quote Details
| Topic | Betrayal |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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