I have been reflecting upon how notions of sin are
changing. It has led me to some traditional writings that I have found helpful.
First, the Middle Ages developed a list of seven
sins that it classed as the worst possible kinds of sin. These the seven deadly sins were Pride,
Greed, Anger, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth (laziness), Unfaithfulness (adultery).
A range of popular books on the Enneagram (from the
Greek ennea, or "nine"), which is a symbol of wholeness, have been
part of my life. One such book is Helen
Palmer's The Enneagram (Harper,
1988). She uses the number nine for the
seven deadly sins, previously mentioned, plus two more: fear, and deceit. She uses the Enneagram model to show how
spiritual transformation can occur through dealing with one's predominant
compulsion in life. This approach is
based on the belief that each person has one primary drive, or "besetting
sin," which is the principal force in determining that person's
personality (though it does not mean that other sins are not present and active
in the individual). One example from
Palmer's book is the sin of "sloth" or indolence. These people major in minors--too much TV,
food, trivial pursuits--neglecting their real needs. They are good-natured, but
undisciplined. The gift of the risen
Christ to this personality type does not destroy their good naturedness but
places within them a new desire for action and responsibility. In each case (or
sin), Palmer shows how each one can be transformed through abiding in Christ,
thereby adding to the Body of Christ with ones own unique presence and being.
Second, consider that possibility that evil is
banal. Hannah Arendt, the philosopher, attended the trial of Adolf Eichman in
Jerusalem back in 1958. Sitting through
all the long sessions of the trial, the impression gradually grew on her, she
said, that Eichmann's evil was rooted in something very banal ... in
"thoughtlessness." Eichmann , she concluded, felt no guilt, because he thought
that all he did was part of "the fateful struggle of the German
people," and along with others at the trial, viewed himself as "an
innocent executor of some mysteriously foreordained destiny." This kind of "thoughtless" behavior
that Arendt saw as resulting from Eichmann's excusing of himself; can confuse
anyone who looks upon sinful actions in an unrealistic way.
Third, reflect upon the possibility that sin is an
always-present human reality. Can a believer ever be free of sin? Some notables thought not. Martin Luther caved into our sinful nature
and sighed, "Trust God and sin on bravely." Augustine seemed to say something similar in
an "anything goes" remark when he said a Christian should "love,
and do what he wants."
Yet, the epistle writer John says that no one who
abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Here is one commentator's explanation on
this, which seems on the mark:
When
a boy goes to a new school, and does something out of keeping with the school's
tradition or good name, he is told immediately, "That isn't done
here." A literalist might reply,
"But obviously it is done; this boy has just done it"--but he would
be deliberately missing the point of the rebuke. The point is that such conduct is disapproved
of in this school, so anyone who practices it can normally be assumed not to
belong to the school. So it is in
belonging to the family of God; sin "just isn't done here." Fellowship with the sinless One and
indulgence in sin are a contradiction in terms.
Whatever high claims may be made by one who indulges in sin, that
indulgence is sufficient proof that that one has no personal knowledge of
Christ.[1]
A traditional hymn is, "The
King of Love my Shepherd is." I
particularly love the verse that says,
Perverse
and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love He sought me,
And on
His shoulder gently laid, And home, rejoicing brought me.
Perhaps--like me--you have a past that
includes sins of thought and action that you have come to realize were
wrong. And--also like me--you have found
that God does willingly lay us on His shoulder and carry us home to the
consciousness of His redeeming love.
Whatever the literary genre,
Madeleine L'Engle upholds that a writer's responsibility is to radiate hope, to
bring healing, to say yes to life. Her works wrestle with the unanswerable
questions of life and death, God and darkness. Walking on Water is a book about how faith and art influence one
another. She argues that there is a "chief difference between the
Christian and the secular artist - the purpose of the work, be it story or
music or painting, is to further the coming of the Kingdom, to make us aware of
our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home."
Her stories accomplish this
primarily through her characters, real or fictional. Readers develop
relationships with them, discussing them with other L'Engle fans as if they
were chatting about friends. As L'Engle proposes, "We all want to be able
to identify with the major characters in a book - to live, suffer, dream and
grow through vicarious experience." Readers can heal their own painful
childhood moments just as the female teenage protagonists who are believable,
ordinary girls struggle with their growing up years.[2]
Excellent article!
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