My wife grew up about seven miles from Easttown Township in southeast Pennsylvania. I lived in the area one summer and worked at a “hoagie” shop off the mainline. All of which goes to say, I have some firsthand knowledge of the “very specific whites” portrayed on HBO’s latest, buzziest series, Mare of Easttown. If you’re not familiar with the show, the titular Mare is a detective in Easttown, a small municipality outside Philadelphia. The organizing plot device is the murder of Erin McMenamin, a local teenage girl, but Mare of Easttown is not a crime show. At least not really. It’s a show about the burden of trauma, the universality of guilt and the possibility of forgiveness. In other words, Mare of Easttown highlights our need for the gospel.

As the series begins, Mare is still reeling from her son Kevin’s suicide. This devastation colors everything, leading Mare to significant lapses in professional judgment and search for Erin’s killer with abandon. Her inability to forgive herself and move forward is symbolized by her unwillingness to go into her attic (where Kevin’s body was discovered). In the final episode, after Mare has discovered who killed Erin and begun mending the relational fallout she suffered in its wake, her therapist asks if she is ready to confront what has been haunting her. The show ends with Mare unfolding the staircase, taking a deep breath, and facing the skeletons in her (literal) closet. 

Mare of Easttown ran on Sunday nights. I watched each episode a few hours after hearing (or even preaching) a sermon from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans. There is a specific word from Romans that connects to the show, explaining how God makes it possible for human beings to move past even the most debilitating guilt. The word is logizomai. It’s the centerpiece of chapter 4: ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted [logizomai] to him as righteousness.’ (v. 3)

What does that mean? It means that Abraham was not shown favor from God (‘counted righteous’) because he was godly or obedient or honorable. Indeed, it means that Abraham was not righteous until God reckoned him so. Paul’s great burden in the chapter is to show that we stand on the same ground as Abraham. When God looks upon us in our sin and need, God does not ask us to prove ourselves worthy of the nobility He bestows upon us. We’re simply counted as such in Jesus Christ. It is a pure, unconditioned gift.  

Do you see yourself in the way God sees you in Christ? A good test-case is your ability to climb into your own “attic,” face your failures and move forward in grace. 

I'd be remiss not to mention the masterful job Peter did exploring this there in his sermon last week. This is perhaps why logizomai is on my mind! I hope to see you on Sunday as we continue our way through Romans. 

Nick