There is a Way to be Good Again

The title of this post is the mysterious promise made by an old family friend to Amir, the guilt-ridden protagonist of Khaled Husseini's first novel, The Kite Runner.  

(Yeah, I know, everyone has read and written about this already.  So I'm late to the party, bear with me, okay?)

I'm not going to summarize or spoil anything about this wonderful novel, so you can read without fear.  Husseini's tale is fundamentally a redemption story, and reading it has me thinking a lot about the power that redemption holds over us.  I finished the book a week ago, and in the meantime read Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize-winner, The Road, which also has redemptive elements, though less overt than The Kite Runner.  However, establishing themselves as "the good guys" becomes very important to the two main characters of The Road.

So then, why redemption?  What is the attraction of atoning for past mis-deeds?  It is not purely the Christian concept of sin, as the author and characters of The Kite Runner are all Muslims.  No, it is the recognition in all of us that we are not saints.  We can all do more to make the world better, and too often, we don't.  A redemption story is a fictional method whereby the reader is redeemed, merely by absorbing the story.  

But that doesn't really redeem us, does it?  We are only redeemed by being inspired by the redemption story to go out into the world and actually living the redemption story.  It can be by volunteering to help the less fortunate, or working to further the greater good, or simply living a kinder life of greater generosity and compassion.  Studies have shown repeatedly that people who help others feel better themselves, and who doesn't want that?  I am constantly amazed at my own inconsistency in simply being aware of situations where I could commit a nice or supporting act.  But that doesn't mean I don't or that I won't do more.  I am living my redemption story, in the end.

Aren't we all?