Telly crime shows often feature a prematurely greyhaired man, handsome, kind, articulate, who stands up for his family against the cynical cops. Late in the show, he is revealed to be the guilty one. Instantly, his gentleness falls away, his Dracula teeth appear, and his motivation is seen to be slavering self-interest. Guilty, he is now a monster.
Who wants to be guilty? Especially when guilt is associated with court trials, judgement, punishment and humiliation. In prayers, it is a stain, a burden or a curse. Christian theology speaks of the guilt we inherit through Adam, even though we were not involved personally in his action. Guilt is heavy stuff.
But even if we don't want to mention guilt, we still need some words to explore our involvement in wrongdoing. After all, we spend much of our lives acting badly or dealing with the consequences when others have acted badly.
For example, I may have committed the most heinous crime of knocking down a cyclist when I was talking on my mobile phone. And, coincidentally, I may have inherited the wealth of my great-grandfather who built up his estate by murdering his neighbours and bribing the judges. I am involved in both these events. What am I to make of the different forms of involvement?
Rather than speaking of guilt, I would prefer to explore our responsibility in the face of wrongdoing. To be responsible is to be prepared to respond, to answer the variety of questions that these actions address to us.
We are called first to answer to the reality of what has happened. It may be tempting to believe our 4WD has bumped over a wombat, but this theory does not answer to the reality of twisted metal and something softer than wombat flesh. Similarly, we might like to believe our great-grandfather was an upright man, unjustly maligned. But the evidence may persuade us otherwise.
Once we have acknowledged what has happened, we are then called to answer to the reality of our personal involvement. This means acknowledging that I was driving the car when it hit the cyclist and that I was driving dangerously. It also means acknowledging that I was not personally involved in what my great-grandfather did.
At a deeper level these events invite us to ask who and what we are. I see what I am capable of. I may also see the evasions