Sin as Stealing? Part Two

Here are three observations I have in thinking about Baba's definition of sin from yesterday ("There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft"):

1. Baba's definition works....for a while.

Baba's definition of sin is not logically inconsistent. At least not on the surface. It actually makes a good deal of sense. If a man kills, he steals a wife's right to a husband. If a woman lies, she steals another person's right to the truth. Fair enough. But all this talk about rights raises the question, What happens when perceived rights conflict? A thief may believe it is his right to do what he pleases. What then? Does Baba's explanation leave room for the possibility that I may not be an impartial judge when it comes to determining what I'm entitled to?

2. Baba leaves God out of the picture.

Amir's father is not a believer. Therefore, it is fitting that his understanding of sin does not include God. Fitting, but tragic. The question of sin becomes clear when we understand that God created us. We owe our existence to him. It would follow, then, that God's rights ought to determine our notions of morality. This is the testimony of the Bible: "Has the potter no right over the clay....?" (Romans 9:21). "Behold, all souls are mine; the soul of the father as well as the soul of the son is mine: the soul who sins shall die" (Ezekiel 18:4). The fact that we are deeply resistant to this possibility may indicate more about our hearts than it does about reality.

3. Sin is stealing......from God.

What is God entitled to? What is the Right that trumps all our creaturely notions? In a word, it is glory. God, as our Creator, is entitled to all honor and praise. He says, "I am the Lord; that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to carved idols" (Isaiah 42:8). When I do anything that attempts to exalt myself as supreme, I steal glory from God. This is the heart of all sin.

Murder is sin, not ultimately because it steals a wife's right to a husband, but because it steals God's right to determine the length of a man's days. Lying is sin, not mainly because it steals another person's right to the truth, but because it exalts me as supreme over another person's mind. Cheating is sin, not finally because it steals a man's right to fairness, but because it places my desires on the throne of the universe.

The reason Baba's definition won't work isn't because it's implausible. It won't work because it's idolatrous. It never leaves the swamp of man-centered reasoning. In fact, rather than defining sin, Baba's definition compounds it by insisting that the creature's rights are divine. If only his idea was as fictional as his character......

Sin as Stealing?

I said I would post some thoughts about issues raised in "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. Here is one hot off the Bunsen burner.

It has to do topic of sin. Amir, the main character, tells his father (Baba) what he has been learning in school from the mullah (an instructor). Amir's report concerns the mullah's statement that Islam considers drinking a horrible sin. Baba, who likes to drink, sits Amir on his lap and begins to explain to him what he thinks about sin. Here is what Baba says:

"Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that?"

Amir is clueless, so Baba attempts another go at it:

"'When you kill a man, you steal a life,' Baba said. 'You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you see?'"

The lights go on for Amir. He gets it.

I'll let you chew on Baba's definition of sin for a bit. More to come tomorrow.....

The Power of A Well-Crafted Phrase

I just began reading "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. It is a fictional story told from the perspective of Amir, a Pashtun man who grew up in Afghanistan during the late 60's and early 70's and fled to the United States with his father when the Soviets invaded the country.

I hope to post some reflections as I move through the book. Hosseini addresses some very important subjects.

What immediately struck me as I began the book, though, was the power of words. Hosseini is a very gifted writer, and can turn phrases like omelets at Denny's. Reading his descriptions makes me realize again the importance of writing well. You know. Not just saying something, but really SAYING something.

Here's an example. Amir has a strained relationship with his father, whom he calls Baba. Baba was a soccer player in his day. Amir reads books. Baba is strong and opinionated and drinks scotch. Amir gets pushed around and stepped on. But Amir reveres his Baba. Fears him, even.

One day Amir decides to write a short story and show it to Baba. Listen to how Hosseini retells the meeting:

"'What is it, Amir?' Baba said, reclining on the sofa and lacing his hands behind his head. Blue smoke swirled around his face. His glare made my throat feel dry. I cleared it and told him I'd written a story.

Baba nodded and gave a thin smile that conveyed little more than feigned interest. 'Well, that's very good, isn't it?' he said. Then nothing more. He just looked at me through the cloud of smoke.

I probably stood there for under a minute, but, to this day, it was one of the longest minutes of my life. Seconds plodded by, each separated from the next by an eternity. Air grew heavy, damp, almost solid. I was breathing bricks. Baba went on staring me down, and didn't offer to read."

May God give us a love for crisp description, especially as we have the greatest of Stories to tell.