This is not merely some cute theological abstraction nor is
it merely some sort of mystical, metaphysical guilt that inscrutably pertains
to the isolated individual. This pertains to our social complicity. We share
complicity in our society’s sins, and we continue to do so. It is precisely for
that reason that we must find forgiveness at the foot of the cross and live a
life of perpetual repentance.
When I was a kid, my mom gave me piece of profound
theological and sociological instruction: “when you point your index finger at
someone else, you have three fingers pointing back at you.” (By the way, at
whom is the thumb pointing?)
I have frequently asked the question, “But where does
complicity begin and end? Where or how do we or can we draw a line between when
we do and when we do not share complicity in particular sins of a corporation
for example?” I have frequently wished that we could draw lines and thereby
assuage some guilt, relieve some of the burden. However, I am slowly realizing
that I am asking the wrong questions. I am trying to distance myself from any
sort of societal culpability. This is probably what many of us want. We want to
separate ourselves from those pernicious culprits “over there.” However, (perhaps much
to our chagrin) we are woven into the thick fabric of society, and we cannot
neatly separate ourselves from other threads that have become noticeably stained. We are
connected.
This emphasis is not to evade personal culpability but is to
punctuate it and to give it a context.
Previously, I asked the questions about sharing complicity
precisely because in practice we separate guilty persons from non-guilty
persons, and so I was asking a rather intuitive question.
The righteous one who died for all did precisely what we do
not and will not do: he refrained from complicity and thereby accentuated ours. When
reading the gospel of Matthew, we may ask, “Who is responsible for the death of
Jesus?” It would be easy and quite erroneous to say, “the Jews.” We might then
point a finger at the temple regime. We might also point a finger at the crowd,
and then we might point a finger at Pilate. But what about those who stood by
and did nothing? What about those, like Peter and co, who distanced themselves
in order to remain unscathed? It might then be noted that complicity seems to
go in all directions.
The good news of forgiveness at the foot of the cross:
forgiveness is extended to us even when we are clueless about our complicity.
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