The problem with Sin

In my youth I interpreted the pursuit of a righteous and good life to mean the shunning of evil and the avoidance of sin. I was given a very lengthy list of those sins, by my parents, my community, my religion, and even by myself (I'm a recovering perfectionist). It included everything I should wear, say, eat, and think. It also included everything I shouldn't wear, say, eat, and think. This list was far more comprehensive than the big Ten, which were also stressed, but ultimately, I was deemed a "good girl" when I followed that list and I was deemed a "bad girl" when I strayed from it (which wasn't very often because of my feverish need to be perfect). And in those times I was made to feel ashamed for sinning and indulging in evil.

It's the list of sins that becomes problematic, because it becomes a measuring rod by which we judge ourselves and everyone else around us. We know we are on the "right path" when we've successfully avoided anything on the list, and we know we're "straying" when we do anything on the list. And I can therefore determine whether anyone else is on the right path or straying from the fold. Then we use the list to keep everyone in line, to create a standard by which to determine one's worthiness.

This creates a rigid definition of sin: doing anything from the "don't do" list. But a closer look at the Hebrew etymology of the word sin gives us a much broader context: Sin, or "hata," derives from archery and means "to miss the mark." Perhaps your arrow hit the target but missed the bulls eye, or perhaps it missed the target entirely, so therefore you've "sinned."

What does this look like in real life? It would depend on how each person defines their own personal "mark." Is hitting the mark perfection, defined as never making a mistake? Then the list approach is likely suiting your needs just fine. Is your bulls eye to gain experience and develop your godly attributes? Then, like me, you're questioning the modus operandi and looking for a broader context in which to live.

If we understood and defined sin as the Hebrew's did, then we might see how problematic the list approach truly is. In that model, missing the mark means we are not drawing closer to God. But in my own life, the times I've felt closest to God are the times that I strayed. I haven't found God in perfect living and in wrapping myself up in bubble wrap. I've found him by using my faculties, doing my best to make difficult decisions, and navigate my way through this confusing life. Isn't it natural and good to get messy? Isn't it part of the process to lose your way, so that you learn how to make your way back? Isn't it built into nature to experience birth, death, and rebirth?

It's when we act in direct defiance to what we already know to be true that we potentially miss the mark--when we disconnect from our intuition and inner wisdom. When someone chooses something that someone else might deem as "sinful" who is to say that they are not on the "right path" for them?

I look at a beloved family member who, as a young teenager, got into drugs. He would disappear for days, live on the streets, would punch holes into the walls of his home, would lash out in rage at his parents, dropped out of school, and was eventually put into an addiction recovery program through the legal court system. By all traditional standards, this boy was a "sinner." He was marking off box after box on the grand checklist of "sins." And yet, years later, he's several years sober, he's engaged to be married, he's a budding entrepreneur, and he's wise beyond his years. He descended so low and deep, and at such a young age, that to pull himself out of that pit absolutely transformed his life. He is changed on the soul level.

Did he miss the mark? Or was it through his waywardness that he found himself and hit the bullseye? Some would say, "Yes, you can make lemonade out of lemons, but wouldn't it have been far better for him to have learned those life lessons some better way?" Of course. It would have been far better for him, and his parents, and everyone that loved him, to never have to wonder if he was dead or alive, to wonder if he would overdose and be found lifeless in the streets, to wonder if he'd live out the rest of his life as an addict. But the moment he chose it, the moment it began refining him. We shouldn't seek waywardness, but when we do, our wayward path becomes THE path.

It was Phil McLemore's incredible article The Yoga of Christ that validated my inner struggle with "sin." He illuminated the parable of the Prodigal Son for me. We have done ourselves a great disservice to interpret that parable as we do, applauding the life of the elder brother who stayed loyal to his father, who stood by his side, who worked the land and tended to the animals. By all accounts, he did everything right, he played by the rules and was a very good boy. But do we fail to realize that despite all of his do-gooding he was very, very far away from his father and from his potential? He was filled with anger, fear, jealousy, and insecurity, as evidenced by how he reacted to his brother's return. How could his father celebrate his brother's return and kill the fatted calf for a sinful wretch? Where was his prize? Where was his salvation?

But this parable was never intended to inspire us to be like the elder brother, but rather to be warned of him. It was to show us the path all of us must take in order to self-actualize, to discover our fullest potential, to be reunited with God and to hit the mark--and that path requires what may look like waywardness but what is really, in all actuality, just living your life. We are all of us the younger brother, prodigal sons and daughters, on a long and arduous journey of self-discovery. It's not until we have shed everything and have found ourselves eating with the swine that we begin to yearn for God, to yearn for Self, recognizing that the real birthright was never forfeited. That's when we stand tall, brush the dust from our knees and start our journey home. We have no more pride and want only to be home again. So we go, despite the elder brother's pointing finger.

Now hold on, am I encouraging everyone to eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die? Is the list completely null and void? Should we all just do whatever the hell we want, because it will eventually lead us back home? Am I saying there are no absolutes, that sin doesn't exist?

I believe it's what Thich Nhat Hanh said in his most eloquent and inspiring little book True Love, that it's not so much a world of Right versus Wrong, or True versus False, or Good versus Evil--it's about Big Brother and Little Brother. There are parts of us that are wise beyond our years, mature, full of grace and insight. While there are simultaneously parts of ourselves that are young, careless, naive, undisciplined, even reckless. Do we want to banish Little Brother because he causes us pain? Because he makes choices that yield unpleasant consequences? That's what many of us here in the western world have been taught to do, and it ends up looking a little bit like the madness of Jekyll and Hyde. Instead, we must love Little Brother, nurture him, pull him close, wrap him in our arms until he can grow up and merge into Big Brother.

I intend to teach my children a much smaller version of "the list" that I was taught in my youth. They will still be learn the Ten Commandments because, to me, they are common sense, reap positive consequences, foster a functioning community when practiced, and promote an ideal worth striving for, but it won't be framed in the context of "sin." But as my children come of age and start moving out into the world, start spreading their wings--our conversations will have to change and evolve. I hope I will able to say this to them:

"Don't go seeking the toughest of life's lessons, or intentionally forsake what wisdom you have gained. Life has a way of bringing you to rock bottom without any effort on your part. Just know that when you end up at rock bottom--because you will--God will be there. That is where God is found. And you will see "the mark" so clearly, in a way you've never seen it before, and you'll run for it, and you'll hit it. You'll never hit the mark by clinging to the list in fear. Instead, once you've dusted off your knees and have found your way back, then you can pick up the list, clarify it, and follow it out of love and wisdom, but never out of fear or a mistaken sense of achieving perfection."

We must stop viewing our unpleasant, dark, or painful experiences in life as interruptions or detours from the "right path," or worse yet, as detestable qualities that should be cut out of us, discarded, and avoided (like sin). This makes life feel something like a maze--an endless wandering, feeling terrified at the prospect of getting lost, making the wrong turn, and being stuck with no way out...(does the ole' hymn Choose the Right come to anyone's mind?)

Instead, recognize that soul-level enrichment and growth comes from integrating the dark and light within us, marrying our shadowside to our godliness. Life is much more like a labyrinth; The choice you are being asked to make in this life is not one of "Right" or "Wrong," it's "Am I willing to keep walking?" We are here to gain experience and you cannot misstep, because there's only one way to go--forward.