Why Sinning Is A Bad Idea

(Editor's Note: this essay is the first of a series entitled "Reclaiming Spirituality From God: After Six Thousand Years Of Suboptimal Performance, Your Services Are No Longer Required. Clean Out Your Desk, See HR About Your COBRA Benefits, And Be Off The Property By 5 PM."

Unlike most people I know, I have the luxury of certainty around one of life's Big Questions. Indeed this may be THE Question for you......what happens when I die?

I entered this State of Knowing at the tender age of six or seven. (I'm a little hazy on the exact number because The Moment occurred during either first or second grade, when I attended what is now known as The Cathedral School, at Portland's St. Mary's Cathedral.) We all wore school uniforms, I remember - white blouses and navy blue skirts for the girls, navy blue sweaters over white shirts and "salt and pepper" corduroy trousers for the boys. Our teachers had uniforms, too.........this was in the days of nuns wearing habits: those starched black and white cloaks with the head blinders. None of this liberal stuff like we have now, with nuns trying to blend in like normal people, as long as they wear their hair like the banker's secretary on The Beverly Hillbillies.

From time to time, between penmanship exercises and "Duck and Cover" drills - to this day, I know what to do in case of a Russian missile attack, although I must say I get a little insecure whenever I am more than a few steps away from a row of thick wooden desks mounted on black cast iron rails - our class would be ushered outdoors to stand in line at the top of a flight of concrete steps leading underground to the Lavatories. (To this day, I wonder if the nuns took us out there according to some divinely-inspired insight as to when we might be about to pee our Catholic pants, or because the plain old clock on the wall said to. I persist in believing the former.)

The deal was this: first the girls, then the boys. When it came our turn, the boys would go DOWN the stairs, do our business, then come UP the stairs and file back into class. No talking was allowed at ANY time. But this business of going up and down the stairs was a highly regulated affair. It could not be left to any willy-nilly conduct as might be practiced by some giddy bunch of prepubescent boys. No, if this bunch of young louts was left to its own devices, it would undermine all the strict conditioning heretofore applied. And then, later, when we were older and expected to be compliant when it Really Counted - when the priests wanted to do Special Things with us - might we not rebel? No, this would never do. (Which makes me wonder, did the nuns do Special Things with the girls? I mean, you see Catholic diocese going bankrupt left and right nowadays to avoid paying adult males large sums of money for the (mortal) "sins of the fathers," but you never hear of adult females seeking payoffs. At least it isn't in the news.) (And another thing: the diocese now being forewarned, shouldn't they, out of fiscal prudence, be setting aside and investing large amounts of dough in a hedge fund - call it the Vatican Buggering Fund - to indemnify themselves against future awarded damages, as new generations step into the docket to claim their rightful amends for what the Fathers are doing Right Now? I think I heard the government has made it harder to claim bankruptcy than it used to be. I'm just asking.)

The nuns made it Very Clear: when we descended the stairs TO the lavatories, we marched DOWN the Right Side of the stairs. When we were ready to return to class, we marched UP the Right Side of the stairs. Just like riding a bike, always on the Right Side, no matter what direction you were going. Any talking or any diversion from the Instructions meant one thing: Hell. Eternal Damnation. Burning. Flames. Always and Forever.

Now, there are two kinds of sins in this life. There is your venial sin, which can be burned off in purgatory, which is your first port of call after you die; there is also your mortal sin, which cannot. The difference between the two is that with your venial sin, it was unintentional. You didn't know what you were doing. You were a chump and you went against God's will, but what the hey, you didn't know and can have the thing burned off. Kind of like you went to a nice party and spilled some wine on your shirt. You're a clumsy doofus, but with a little seltzer water and a quick trip to the dry cleaners, boom, good as new! (Come to think of it, this might be a good name for a chain of dry cleaners: Purgatory Dry Cleaning: "For All Your Venial Stains." Ha Ha! You can use that if you want, for free. I'm a Giver.)

Now, your mortal sin is a whole different proposition. With this baby, you KNEW it was wrong at the time. Whatever you did, you did it with the full knowledge that God would not approve. You don't get a do-over, a side trip to purgatory, a second chance, nada. Your metaphorical Goose is cooked. And cooked. Forever. You should have thought of this at the time, buddy.

Well, when I first heard this differentiation, in all my youthful exuberance, I took it as a challenge: could I, knowingly and with foresight, commit a sin and not get caught? Could I beat the immortal odds and fool Sister Mary Novena? I decided to try. My plan was simple: one day, on a pee break, I would PURPOSELY walk down the LEFT side of the stairs to the lavatory. BWAH-HA-HA-HAAAAAA!

I got caught.

And during my tongue-lashing and wooden-ruler-on-knuckles interlude, Sister wised me up. Turns out I had overlooked one important nuance in this sin business: even if I had eluded Sister in my rebellion, GOD Would Have Known! Of course, how silly of me.....


Fast forward about 25 years. It is the late seventies in Seattle. I am experiencing a series of workshops and seminars put on by a former Greyhound Bus Driver with delusions of becoming the new Jim Jones, of mixing up the medicine for a willing group of acolytes. What started as a wildly successful series of Real Estate Investment Seminars morphed into a wildly successful (and more expensive) series of How To Unlock Your Real HIdden Potential And Rule The World seminars. Naturally I was interested.....my money is as good as the next sucker's.

At one seminar, I remember the Bus Driver told us the true meaning of sin: to miss the mark. Yes, the etymology of the word sin derives from archery. The distance between the bullseye and where the arrow hits on the target is called the "sin of the arrow." Morality aside, one might argue, to miss the mark you have set for yourself is to sin. Which puts things in a whole different light. I am still pondering the implications of this information for my own status vis a vis God and that Eternal Damnation thing. Seems like a loophole kind of thing to me, a technicality, like what gets horrible criminals off in these courts with these activist judges nowadays. I want no part of this kind of stuff. I'm a man, responsible for my actions no matter how horrendous, how threatening to the Natural Order Of Things. I can take a licking and keep on ticking, like a Timex Watch, buddy.

(Postscript to the Bus Driver seminar thing: many years later, a friend who had attended the same courses told me that the guy had committed suicide. Tragic. A Troubled Figure, obviously. A Man, Searching Alone In This Confused World, Seeking Eternal Liberating Truths To Share With Humanity, Offering Salvation To A People Otherwise Destined To Live And Die Without Knowing Why. Upon hearing this news, I recall my first reaction: I wanted my money back. This is the kind of thinking that sets me aside from Decent People.)

But for fifty years now, I have Known, while you have doubted your ultimate disposition. All is foretold for ME, if not for YOU. You go through your tenative life, always watchful, always mindful of potential future consequences of your actions. Is this a Mortal Sin, you ask? Where does the concept of Plausible Deniability come in here? Just exactly how far can I go, what can I get away with? Questions, worries, stress, ulcers, high blood pressure, strokes, bad skin, cold sores, insomnia, compulsive gambling, sex, shopping, drinking, erectile dysfunction, and skinny lattes. These are the hallmarks of your life out there.

But not me. (OK, except for the drinking part.)

Whether my corporeal body is violated by flame or worm, my immortal soul will burn in Hell and I know this. I am OK with this, because it is like a ride on a carnival or a plane ride. No matter how afraid I might get, no matter what might happen if the roller coaster slips off the track or if the plane crashes, THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT! It is completely out of my control. And not only that....for all of my earthly life, and I can SIN and SIN AGAIN, because I only have one body to burn.

The die has been cast. I may as well enjoy the ride, because it will be over soon enough, and the only question worth asking is: was it worth it? Was the game worth the candle? Did I get a big enough thrill, enough satisfaction in walking down the Wrong Side Of The Stairs to make up for what I know is ahead of me? Was the delight I felt, as ephemeral as it was, in performing this act, sufficient to compensate for an eternity of unrelenting agony?

Yes. It was.