Whatever happened to the seven deadly sins?

Whatever happened to sins, deadly or otherwise?

The seven deadly sins have become invisible; no longer having the power to cause scandal and restrict behaviour. In a consumption culture founded upon convenient gratification and pleasure even “naughty but nice” sounds judgemental. Sins are forgotten so much that many people nowadays don’t know that they are sinning (though remain very quick to recognise when they are sinned against).

Without fanfare, discussion or notice, the traditional Seven Deadly Sins had a makeunder and dropped off our charts. Admission or acknowledgement of sin nowadays belongs to a different, fustier era. Sins have almost disappeared from our vocabulary, minds and behaviour.

Sins is such a deliciously short, four-letter word.

We may all sin now.

And we do.

Sinning is just another sport. To be enjoyed on our own, or with others.

That’s what it is:

Sinning as recreation.

Sinning with impunity may take the edge off the pleasure.

But on the other hand, who wants hellfire and damnation?

Or even a fine?

We have choice:

Seven scrumptious flavours:

Envy now rebranded as Aspiration

Sloth now rebranded as Chillaxing

Lust now rebranded as Desire

Pride now rebranded as Self Respect

Gluttony now rebranded as Gourmet Dining

Avarice now rebranded as Ambition

Anger now rebranded as Self Expression

All are normal

All are legitimate

There is no punishment

For indulging.

Consider ENVY:

How many of us covet our neighbour’s ox, or his ass?

But we covet his wife.

Even more, we covet his house, his job, his salary.

Aspire to a banker’s life of fast cars and champagne.

Aspire to celebrity status for doing nothing but celebrate yourself.

Aspire to real fur, real diamonds and real crocodile shoes…

Women are the most successful aspirers, men the most cruel.

We are all aspirational.

We are told it is good.

Spend to aspire, they say.

Aspire to keep the economy going.

And we envy all that are in a position

To obey.

Now consider SLOTH:

This is the killer, literally.

How slothful to drive everywhere,

To sit all weekend watching boxed sets,

Not to bother, not to care, not to lift a helping hand.

We call this chilling, switching off, even dropping out.

Chill! The cry goes up.

Why care what is happening at home?

Abroad?

In society?

In the wild?

It’s just not worth the effort.

And when we can no longer walk

And when we have to be winched out of bed

No-one calls us lazy.

We are pitied

And cosseted

And take up two seats in the bus.

Consider LUST:

The acme of self-gratification.

Personally

Or by proxy.

It’s a natural urge.

Why put obstacles in its way?

If we dam the tide of lust

We will suffer from

Repression

Damaged psyche.

Go ahead, ravish the maidens,

You know they secretly want it.

We must indulge our lust or

We will be frustrated.

Our lives will be ruined.

Forget the expense of spirit in a waste of shame.

It is a question of maintenance.

We don’t want to be perverted

Or our minds and bodies distorted

By self-control.

Let us consider PRIDE.

We must all be proud of ourselves.

We must all love ourselves.

We must at all costs not be beaten

In an argument,

In a negotiation,

In a friendly tennis match

Pride must be public.

We must boast

We must flaunt

We must call the tune

We must never, ever allow anyone to doubt

Our strength

Our brilliance

Our philanthropy

Our dress sense

The pithiness of our tweets

We must never back down.

Consider GLUTTONY.

If we resist we are pariahs.

Do we watch television?

See the advertisements for food.

How expensively it is styled to bring out

The taste

The texture

The colour.

See how cereals shine with sugar coating

See the technicolour pizzas

The oozing puddings.

The sauces

The sizzle of succulent steaks

Hear the honeyed tones

Exhorting us to

Eat! Eat! Eat!

Fill that gaping hole where love and friendship should be

With food.

Consider AVARICE:

Money.

Without it the world would stop.

We all need money.

We need more money than our colleagues

Bigger bonuses. Larger share options

We need more money than our friends

We don’t have to spend it

We certainly don’t have to give it away

It can live in our mansion with swimming pool, tennis court and gym.

It can sit in our bank account.

We just need to watch

The bottom line increasing.

Hang on to it tight.

Do not give a sou.

Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow

We consider ANGER at our peril:

Call it self-expression,

This sin can still shock, terrorise.

It is even sometimes, just,

In special cases, taboo.

When the feral beast breaks out

Claws spread

Hooves ready to strike

Jaws to crush.

Blind rage.

Seeing red.

Keep well clear.

And do not interfere.

If that anger is not expressed,

It will turn on itself.

If it is repressed

It will eat its own guts.

You want to see anger tear its own flesh apart?

Stand back

Out of reach

Watch the damage done

Without demur.

Let it go

Let it all hang out.

Be destructive

Be angry.

We are like the Victorians and sex.

We would rather not talk about sin.

We would rather not hear about it.

We would rather not see it.

It isn’t there

It has gone away

In our happy, fulfilled lives, these ancient guides to right and wrong are redundant

They lie like old banana skins, empty of content, kicked into the gutter.

But what if something of their purpose remains?

We may even slip on them, and fall.

What then?
Sins by Mary Telford (illustrated by Louise Verity) is published by Lilliput Press