A selection from Who Will Deliver Us?, by Paul Zahl. This now classic book (published way back in 1983!) has very much stood the test of time.
We need to be careful with the word guilt. It has bad associations. In the mind of many people, guilt is identified with repressions of pleasure, burdensome obligations, and irritating duties. It has almost assumed the meaning of “false guilt” or “neurotic guilt,” guild that is just in our minds. If we are to measure the profundity of atonement, we need to restore guilt to a reputation of respect.
On the one hand, Webster’s Dictionary defines guilt in objective terms: “The fact of having committed a breach of conduct, especially such as violates law and involves a penalty,” or “culpability.” That is to say, guilt is a state, objectively measured by a given standard. This definition restricts itself to conscious guilt, guilt we carry because of conscious acts of wrongdoing. We can accept this definition of guilt as far as it goes. If I, for example, being a believer in God, break one of the Ten Commandments and am fully aware that I am doing so, I may be able to acknowledge my guilt after the fact, even if other considerations proved sufficient in the act to overrule the voice of conscience.
The problem with this description is that guilt is not simply a conscious thing. It is an unconscious thing. Guilt inhabits a larger sphere within our lives than just conscious moral decisions. For example, if I feel I have to work ten hours on homework every Sunday night in order to prepare for Monday’s class, I have a right to ask, Why am I doing this? The more so do I have such a right if I am aware of hating the assignments and dreading the Monday class. Why do I wreck my Sunday in order to do something I hate? The answer is probably something like “to get an A so as to qualify for medical school” or “to get an A so as not to disappoint my parents.”
Whenever we do something we do not like, regardless of whether it is an “objectively” good thing for us to do or not, we can ask, Am I acting our of guilt? Am I discharging debt? Am I trying to attain an end in order to please someone who would be upset with me if I did not attain it? Evidently guilt is an element in more than just conscious moral decisions. It is a universal element in all the efforts we have ever made to win approval.
Because of our universal need to win approval, hence to stave off judgment, the idea of atonement holds great appeal. In the Bible, an atonement is a sacrifice by means of which the judgment we experience is assumed by another — a lamb or a dove or a person — with the result that we are not only freed from judgment but reconciled to the judge. The can evoke tears. It symbolizes our desperate hope of being lifted out of the pit of fearfulness. It signifies a release from the dereliction of fear that neither escape, nor open resistance, nor appeasement have yet been able to win for us. […]
The need for atonement is a familiar theme in many religions. More than ten years ago it burst over me in a fantastic manner when I was required to sacrifice a goat. It was the first day of the season for a large archaeological excavation in Turkey. We were uncovering an ancient city that had been a center for classical sculpture in the late Hellenistic period. The village men who supplied the work force were nominal Muslims. The site, however, had been associated for centuries with fertility worship. The “spirits of the hill,” as they were known, were still believed to be active. The men feared that our digging would anger the spirits. So every year on the first day of the season, the custom was to slit the throat of a goat — to ward off, in advance and explicitly, the anger of the spirits. […]
Humanity’s search for atonement is not restricted to explicit religious acts. In the world of religion, atonement is offered to satisfy the judgment of the gods. In the secular world, atonement is offered to satisfy the judgment of others: persons, communities, institutions, and ideologies to which we feel responsible. The guilt, the judgment of falling short, is in reference to difference objects, but in both worlds it functions the same. In personal relationships, for example, we can find ourselves seeking atonement by means of “good deeds.” Perhaps we have neglected someone who was once a valued friend. We are reminded of this and feel guilty. We then perform a good deed for the person we neglected. But the good deed looks out of proportion given our earlier silence. It reeks of guilt. The intended recipient knows this; we know it. Does reconciliation occur? Rarely.
In the context of children and parents, a man once told me that he had achieved his considerable success at work in order to satisfy his parents. But he had no joy in this. He wrote, “I realized that I’ve tried to sacrifice for my mother. So she’ll die relatively happy about her son — and I’ll be ruined.” Whether it is religious or secular, guilt can issue in high achievement. It can issue in service to others. But does anything we do ever absolve it? Can we ever rest?
Atonement is an impossible ideal. We need it. We wish for it. In its poignancy we respond to it with tears when it is expressed symbolically in a story like A Tale of Two Cities. Instinctively we know with the biblical writer that “perfect love casts out fear” (I Jn 4:18). We know that perfect atonement would end our fear of judgment. But where is it to be found? “Who shall deliver us from this body of death.”
