Expiate

I was inspired by Yourcenar's book, "Alexis." It's a (staggeringly beautiful) letter from a man who is apologizing to his wife for leaving her because he's gay. Only the book was written in 1928, he couldn't speak directly about it; they didn't have the vocabulary we have today. So the whole novel is about how he must pursue his other loves. The rumor (disproven) was that Yourcenar's husband had left her under similar circumstances, and this was the apology letter she never received. Even though it's not true, I feel that this act of writing your own perfect apology letter is profound.

When I graduated college, I had this idea for a play where community members would meet for a ritual of renewal. The librarian assumed the role of Medea, the journalist attempts Alexander the Great, and the bookstore owner tries Marguerite Yourcenar. The crux of the play was that half-way through the ritual, the bookstore owner decides she needs to get Medea to forgive Jason instead of murdering her children. Betrayal vs Forgiveness.

The premise was that 'forgiveness permits transformation.' Only, I wanted a stronger word for forgiveness. I wanted the word for divine forgiveness, profound forgiveness, the quality of forgiveness that permits wild transformation. I have since found its sister words: exoneration, atonement, absolution, expiation.

I first came across expiate while reading Christa Wolf's "Medea Voices." Medea meets with her aunt Circe to expiate for the blood guilt of her brother Apsurtus's death. Wolf had a different take on the myth and perhaps that's why I find the word intriguing. Growing up Catholic might also explain my affinity for words that purge guilt. The word I want may exist and I simply haven't come across it yet. It's also possible that we are still talking around the word, that we haven't developed that vocabulary yet. And so, for the meantime, expiate.