Go Set a Watch, Man

On the heels of finishing The Faith of a Mockingbird (hitting the shelves of your favorite bookstore soon!), reading Go Set A Watchman has me asking, “Who is the real Atticus Finch?” Harper Lee’s latest (and second or is it really the first?) novel is due out in stores this week, and the reviews are hinting that Mockingbird’s moral hero is revealed to be a bigoted segregationist. Atticus, who once rose above a broken system offering prophetic wisdom ahead of its time, now seems tragically vulnerable to the successive fleeting narrowness culture can offer. Could it be that time (go set a watch, man) has changed his views or that he previously was naïve? Could it be that as a child, Scout’s memory of her father was idealized? Should we read Go Set a Watchman as students, understanding that this was the draft that gave birth to To Kill a Mockingbird as the final (and for over fifty years the only) word? Does a future revelation negate a saintly past?

The shock of reading Atticus’ support of segregation reminds us of a story’s power. Although Atticus in part was based on Harper Lee’s own father, he is a character. Our connection to fictional characters makes sense because we are all characters in a way. Our identity is not based in what we do or think or say, but our identity is rooted in what we and others remember about our thoughts, words, and deeds. At least, there is an intimate connection between our identity and our memory. Maybe that’s why Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me,” when he gathered with his disciples during his final meal (Luke 22:19). Maybe that’s why the thief on the cross asked Jesus to “Remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42)? Maybe that’s why the rain stopped when “God remembered Noah” (Genesis 8:1).

Psalm 139 reveals that God knows us better than we know ourselves—“O Lord, you have searched me and known me…even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.” Because God knows our story so well, the Psalms also guide our language in seeking pardon—“Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness’ sake, O Lord” (Psalm 25:7). Near the end of Matthew’s Gospel Jesus offers a parable about judgment. He says, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory…all the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats” (Matthew 26:31-32). It is shocking to read about Atticus in Watchmen because we assume that he’s a sheep. He’s on the Son of Man’s right side standing with the good guys and girls. He can’t be a goat, right?

The mystery is that the line separating the sheep and the goats is a line drawn through each individual soul. The times we served and shared and loved are remembered and sit at God’s right hand. The times when we failed and faltered and turned away are crucified and burned away in the refining fire of God’s love. When the goat in us is turned away, will there be enough remaining for Christ to recognize us, or will Christ say, “I do not know you” (Matthew 25:12).

Maybe the shock in reading about Atticus’ confusing views is that it reminds us that we are just as complex and it scares the Hell out of us. Maybe that’s the beauty of it all?