My husband and I recently took our two eldest boys to discover the stars inside a local planetarium. As we gazed up at the constellations recalling heroes of old, the astronomer dryly commented that âless enlightenedâ cultures believed these were men and creatures from fairy tales. Ironically, his pride had blinded him from realizing how those cultures knew the starsâ beauty in a way many today never will. Like their celestial illustrations, ancient myths continue to capture imaginations because some truths are timeless regardless of human progress. Thatâs what makes a good story.
Itâs been weeks since I closed the pages of Nathanael Hawthorneâs âThe Scarlet Letter,â yet I find it still has my imagination. Hawthorneâs novel, published in 1850, critiques a repressive religious culture 200 years prior to even his own life time.
The novel famously portrays the life of Hester Prynne, an adulteress defined by the infamous scarlet âAâ embroidered on her chest – reflective of a single act of forbidden sin that she neither denies nor defends. Her daughter, Pearl, is so named not for her beauty, but rather for the steep cost by which she was brought forth. Though an innocent byproduct of the seditious act, Pearl, like her mother, must endure harsh punishment of being shunned and identified as wicked. Hester Prynne refuses to divulge the name of her lover and Pearlâs father, an offence the pious town perceives as damning as the adulterous act itself.
But as the novel develops, Hesterâs ostracism allows her to identify and provide for the lowliest in society, while her sewing skills giver her utility with the upper class. Thus, her reputation among the town people is enhanced and they even consider allowing her the contemptuous branding. Yet, Hester realizes that it is this letter that has given her freedom from the moral tyranny and hypocrisy of the Puritan culture.
Contemporary America has certainly shifted away from the Puritan values of its founding, but like the Greek myths from antiquity, the truth behind the tale remains. Hawthorne correctly explains that by attempting to build a âNew Jerusalemâ the Puritans merely built a Babylon ripe with the vices they sought to avoid. Â Rules abound where virtue lacks, often in the places we least suspect.
Though Hester Prynneâs sin was egregious, it exposed that a society supposedly built on seeking Godâs will was actually furthest from him: unforgiving, unjust, and merciless to those in need. Humans readily identify self-righteousness a sin, but few recognize it is a vice we each of carry. Indeed, what makes self-righteousness so dangerous to the soul is that the behaviors we undertake to avoid it often become the very means that blind us to its existence in our lives. Moralism takes many forms, but they all inevitably create categories of âusâ and âthem.â Hester did not lessen her crime to dismiss her guilt but instead realized her guilt opened her eyes to the scarlet letters that lurk on every heart.
Hawthorne masterfully depicts the pervasiveness of sin upon those around us. We want to believe that our private lives are just that – particularly in the bedroom. Yet, the consequences of our indiscretions leave a mark, a scar on our lives and on those closest to us that remain long after deeds are committed, repented of, and even forgiven. And a society full of damaged souls impacts generations to come. Hesterâs single act of indiscretion changes her life forever. Even though it âwas her passport into regions where other women dared not tread,âher revelation came at great cost. For the rest of her life, she and others identify her by her sin, including Pearl. Her daughter grows up rejected by her father and society and consequently self-identifies as a demon-child in an act of self-preservation. The deed throbs throughout the Puritan society and scatters their hopes of creating Heaven on earth.
Perhaps Hawthorneâs greatest commentary relates to a topic ignored and belittled in a post-religious America – guilt. Some like Dimmesdale, Hesterâs lover and town pastor, try to conceal it from the outside world while letting it eat away at the heart. Others, like the members of the Puritan society, pretend guilt is a problem bad people must deal with, unaware of the stain saturating their own lives. Similarly, some (like Pearl) let the sins of others define them or absolve them from their impish behavior. Most of us, like the betrayed husband, let our anger consume us, unable to forgive and move on from wrong doing.
But in Hester Prynne (and later Dimmesdale) Hawthorne suggests that healing and freedom of guilt are found in confession and acknowledgement of sin, which brings restoration not only to the guilty but the wrongfully shamed. This simple but offensive claim was as true in Puritan New England as it was in America in 1850. I find myself asking if this still rings true today? Or will we think Hawthorneâs story is a mere tale from a less enlightened culture long ago?
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