It's Time to Sin More, and Hate Less
My soul is embedded with classic Catholic-sin like crimson rubies buried in a sandbox. And I'm not just talking about eating two helpings of double-decker chocolate cake (although I do that, too) - I swear, I lie, I mock the Bible, I use the Lord's name in vain (to name a few). I love the very term "sin" - never has there been a three-letter word with so much power, such drastic implications. But as far as I'm concerned, my sins are holy. Each moment, as my moral code thickens like congealing milk, I sin more - for I embrace my sin. As humans, we are born and die with a myriad of imperfections, but to fear sin and god is to fear life. I can't live this way because I know that if this intangible figure, god, did create the world, he/she/it (I'll use he for convenience) wants me to love it and live it. In living full-throttle, I become more faithful. And, at least, I can give god a good laugh in the process.
A friend once told me that she lived in fear of god - she didn't understand why it was a sin to kill someone who tries to kill her or swear or anything; she just feared that if god existed, she would go to hell for living outside the ten commandments. Although in her mind she dreamed of playful sin, her emotions could not understand that god, if he existed, might just accept her questioning, appreciate her vitality, and welcome her open-armed to whatever death is. And she never understood when I tried to explain that this here, this very moment, this day, year, life, this is my heaven and what comes after is for after's breath. She didn't see that my moral code is solid, that most of us sinners are unbelievably trustworthy because we have come to terms with our place in the universe - we commit two types of sin: playful sin, and no-other-choice sin. We are all animals with instincts to survive, and we do what is needed to live. There is no shame in this struggle that has been taken up by ants and bears and men. Besides, sins come and go - what may be unholy today could make me a martyr tomorrow. Take a look at Galileo: he was shunned for his work when he lived and now he is studied. Most of us sinners aren't dark, twisted characters that tote guns like garments; we are passionate, sensitive, thoughtful people. We, as Billy Joel sings, merely would "rather laugh with sinners than cry with the saints."
John Steinbeck's novel, The Grapes of Wrath, shows that sin is relative. Tom Joad, for example, murdered a man who attacked him. Throughout the novel, he explains that, "I'd do what I done - again. I killed a guy in a fight. We was drunk at a dance... No, I...