Yesterday: Sin as a loose-end.
Part 2 is here! And it’s crazy awesome!! Hello, TIME TRAVEL!!
The human person summarizes his past in his present. When you meet a person, you meet a presence that is currently affected and presently informed by a past. To love a girl is to love the contents of a childhood that, in the moment of your loving her, shape who she is. When you shake my hand you shake a hand formed by my parents, a hand contingent — and contingent in the now — upon past events, past handshakes.
Which brings us back to the point. If being a person means containing your past, then no sins are past sins. Sin is a present, lived reality. Guilt is not a wallowing in the past, though a perverse guilt may be. Guilt is the pain of a past-filled present, or rather, the felt experience of the presence of a sinful past — of a past that isn’t past at all. If each man introduces himself as a present which sums up and is currently informed by a past, then the difference between the sinner and the sinless is that the sinner presents himself partially. The sinner contains within himself that which ought not be. He delivers a past in his present and this past contains absurdities that ought-not exist, and thus he, presently, offers to the world an incoherence.
If we want to die damn good stories, to be whole, to have consistent, final meaning — then we’re going to have to be rid of sin. If being a sinner is to summarize within the present moment a past that contains that which ought-not-be, then the only possibility of becoming a story free from crappy writing — free from the irreconcilable absurdities that ought never have been part of our narrative — is to go back in time and change the past. We must, quite literally, time-travel, and having done so, alter the quality of our past, that our present might be informed coherently by that which ought be, free from that which ought not. Only then can we introduce ourselves fully, without gaps in our story.
The rest is here: The ethical necessity of Time Travel.