Parable on permission

A young member of a contemplative community sits with an elder in cautious conversation. He cannot complete the unburdening of his soul but insists the elder recognise the magnitude of his wrongdoing. Fear causes his words to stumble at edge of a full confession. The elder gently places his hand on the other's shoulder. He has learnt to see into the hearts of men and is accepting of what he finds there. The younger brother is meek and known for staying out of the community's occasional controversies. He does not resemble the elder's idea of a great sinner. Long familiarity with youth's eternal weaknesses, and wishing for a way out from the interview, the elder says, let me tell you what to do.  You think you have committed an unforgivable act, I understand, but there is only one path out from the burden of guilt. You must forgive yourself the unforgivable, and you must turn your thoughts to higher matters. The younger brother profusely thanks the elder and awkwardly expresses his relief. For a long time now, the community has served as hidden eyrie from which he soars out on a murderous campaign against the local villages. Until the moment of these words of absolution, he has not been able to see a path away from his troubles. He has never wanted to needlessly give himself away but he also cannot live with his guilt. The elder's simple ritual of self-forgiveness now completes the circle of his purpose, and he is released to steal and murder again. With the campaign renewed and redoubled, his many transgressions have no goal but to elicit self-forgiveness which, in turn, as it frees him from remorse, allows him both to act again, and act anew.