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A friend recently parsed the difference between two universal emotions: Guilt comes about, he said, when you do something wrong; but shame comes when you feel that you, as a person, are wrong. There are many variations.

As Lent approaches with its emphasis on repentance, we may find ourselves contemplating our wrongs and hoping for a better self. Since none of us are perfect, we periodically bear some guilt. Not all may be deserved.

We may be too scrupulous or anxious, and find it hard to separate the guilt we feel for imagined wrongs from that we have for actual wrongs.

Fallen creatures that we are, guilt is the bell that rings our conscience so we may repair the damage and repent the sin. "Truly my sins are always before me," we say with the Psalmist.

The sacraments, especially Reconciliation or confession, help us there.

But beyond these ordinary transgressions and the attendant guilt, we may sometimes by bothered by a larger, less tangible tangle of emotions we can label shame. This emotion can plague or cripple us unnecessarily.

We may feel shame for acts we have not committed, or for acts committed to us. Victims of crime, notably sexual ones, often feel such undeserved shame. In this regard, we can characterize shame as something that other people put in us.

Shame can have neurotic or psychotic aspects. Novelists employ it often, given its universal character and tragic consequences. Whether we feel guilt or shame, we can be like the Mexican peasant in novelist Graham Greene's "The Power and the Glory," who chases an alcoholic priest across the landscape seeking forgiveness.

Many of us are able to ease the burden of shame through reason, therapy or frank talk with friends or advisers. Confession and God's grace can help us sort fact from fiction, deal with the guilt and drop the shame - or some of it.

Some shame will likely always be with us.

On a positive note, it sheds light on some deeper truths. It reveals our fallen nature. We are made in the image and likeness of God and each of us has deep within a notion of how we could and ought to be. We glimpse a vision of our selves perfected. And so we know how far we have to go.

Call it original sin. In practice, this concept depends not so much on something we have done, but on our human condition. We did not commit "original sin;" it is simply a fact. We are less than angels. To know and live with that fact is both sensible and liberating.

We also know that we often fail or do evil, which may prompt guilt. Here, our inability to forgive our own sins may cause shame.

The temporal nature of reality reveals to us our limited powers.

As my friend, John Dwyer, put it: "The past stands in judgment against us; the future is beyond our control; and the present makes us aware of how difficult it is to cope, how limited our resources are and how little we can do to forgive ourselves."

God's absence can lead us to Him. As with St. Paul, our weakness is God's opportunity. Before that moment of insight, we may, in effect, feel shame that we are not God. Hubris has driven many of us nuts. It is maddening to know that we are broken and can't repair the damage ourselves. Thank God there's God.

(02/17/11) [[In-content Ad]]

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