Attempts at Atonement

For my tenth birthday, my brother gave me the entire Harry Potter series. But the gift came with a stern stipulation from my parents. I could not read the last three until I was at least twelve. (Apparently the subject matter was too dark and morbid for my ten-year-old self to handle.) Two years did not seem that long, and I did not even know if I would like the series, so I paid almost no attention to this rule. Like every other child, however, I became absolutely obsessed with the world of Harry Potter. I flew through the first four books and eagerly wanted to find out what happened next. Every time I would walk past my bookshelf my eyes would inevitably be drawn to the bottom, right shelf where I had the last three books. My eyes would linger, and I would reach out my hand, almost touching the spines of the books, before forcing myself to walk away. One day, I convinced myself that it would be okay to read the first chapter of the fifth book. Unsurprisingly, once I read one chapter I could not stop, and in less than a month I had read the rest of the series. At first, I was proud. Never before had I ever so consciously disregarded what my parents had told me to do. Then came the guilt. It followed me everywhere. My guilt tainted every conversation I had with my parents, and it was the last thing I thought about every night before I went to bed. Whenever my parents praised me, I would shrivel up internally, feeling unworthy because of what I did. I tried rationalizing it by telling myself that I would have gotten to read the books eventually, so I had really done nothing wrong, but it did not work. I could not deny the fact that what I did was wrong, so I tried to push it from my mind, to forget about it. But I had no relief from the guilt until I broke down sobbing one night at the dinner table and confessed what I had done. My parents were disappointed, I had to regain their trust, and I had to face the punishment that they doled out. But by confessing what I had done and doing everything I could to regain my parents’ trust I felt I had atoned.

Looking back at this, it seems like such a dumb thing to feel the need to atone for. So what? I read a few books that were literally written to be enjoyed by children. Besides, it was my parents fault for allowing me to keep the last books in my room. Can a ten year old child really by blamed for lacking the self-control necessary to not read ahead? If my parents really did not want me to read the last books of Harry Potter they should not have introduced the series to me in the first place. The extent of the “crime,” and whether or not I really can be blamed for it, however, is not what ultimately matters. What matters is the guilt that followed that lead me to feel that I needed to do something to try and fix what I had done.

I am hesitant to compare my sin of reading Harry Potter to Briony’s sin of wrongfully accusing an innocent man of rape and sentencing him to years in prison, but the parallels exist. Like me, Briony was just a girl when she committed her crime. Similarly, several possibilities exist to excuse Briony of what she did, or at least diminish the amount of responsibility she had for it. It was dark, so she saw what she believed to be true. The police gave her no opportunity to back down from or change her statement. Robbie’s actions to a 13 year old would seem predatory. Likewise, Briony went through the motions of rationalizing what she did, convincing herself that she truly did believe that it was Robbie, and then trying move on and forget what she had done. Furthermore, her guilt followed her into her everyday life, causing her to move away from her parents and pursue a career in nursing instead of a writer like she originally aspired to be. Like me, her guilt permeated her every action.

In the end, she too makes a confession through her story, fittingly titled, Atonement. I will not comment on whether or not this confessions is enough to absolve her crime. That is a discussion for anther day. What is important is that Briony makes the attempt, and that is enough for her to find peace with herself when she dies. It is a very self-centered way of looking at things, but atonement is for the sinner not the victim. I did not confess at the dinner table for my parents. I confessed for myself. Forgiveness does not need to be given to forgive yourself. Actions do not need to be acknowledged to know you preformed them. Guilt is guilt. It will gnaw at you until you numb yourself to its presence, or until you or find a way to absolve yourself of it. It does not matter if your sin can be justified or if nothing can be done to take back your actions. Because, no matter the crime, if you do not make an attempt at atonement, you will never be at peace with yourself.