Journal 14 – Sin...pretty much

Sin once dictated the behavior of my young
fearful self. Sin crept in dark corners where cob-
webs sat, where rats – wet stench laced rats –
wobbled along; sin left numbers on bathroom doors
needing friends and wonderful times; sin walked
out the back door of someone's clean house carrying
her entertainment center in the palm of his
hand. Sin is a smiling face on a public bus –
laughing at the call being made to your wife at this
moment to release your funds or sacrifice your
son's life. Sin was once so clear to me – echoing the
low bass of Paul's deep voice – concrete and
physical in its subtle manifestations. Abstraction
and indirection is difficult but necessary to relieve
oneself of any responsibility. Sin is a grown-up
with a pointed finger and shrilly voice squealing
that every pleasurable thing will bring death in
the afternoon. Sin is a drunk, drunk driving his
small children through the city to mid-day
practice of some uplifting art – football or piano.
Sin is throwing darts but missing the bulls-eye.
Sin is sleepy at 10 in the morning once awake
at 4 in the morning. Sin sees church goers smile
on Sunday morning while cursing their children
on Sunday evening. Sin never cries foul –
unless it isn't. Sin is a bloody sheet. Sin is
the small gathering of vomit on each side of
your bed dirty from last night's womanizing in
Jim Beam's comfort. Sin is laughing heartily at
any discussion of the merits of sin. Sin is in
the mother or the father's reaction to the eternal
crying of his or her child. Sin is wandering the
streets at night with a wad full of money and a
pocket full of goods to sell to all the drooling addicts.
It seems that sin is everywhere and all around
us – what then is it really? How does sin mean
something in a sinful world with nothing to contrast
with it? Unless the stories of Jesus in the Bible
are true; but they just say – He was without sin.

3.2.09