Why the Doctrine of Sin by Itself Misses the Mark

On Considering Sin & Han Together

When I was studying for my Bachelor’s degree a lifetime ago, I met one of the nicest guys I have ever met. He was a Korean student named Sam and we lived just a few doors apart in our dorm. Even when he was mad he was mad in the kindest way possible. There was, however, a single exception to this. One day I, or perhaps someone else (I can’t quite remember), mentioned something about Japan. He flew off the handle. Knowing little of both suffering and history I was stunned by his anger. He explained that we didn’t understand what the Japanese had done to his people. Indeed, we did not. I think I probably said some stupid thing about forgiveness (a topic I’ll write about later), but I’ll never forgot that day. Something about his reaction to the mere mention of Japan startled me and remained as a sort of question mark in my subconscious. Thanks to the stunning work of theologian Andrew Sung Park, I finally have a word for what I witnessed: Han.

While it’s likely that many have never heard of han, I imagine it will (unfortunately) be intuitively understood by some once we unpack it. The other day I was reading an article by Gregory Thompson titled “Home Is Where the Welcome Is: On Hospitality and Trauma.” He recalls how when the word “trauma” began to be spoken and written in popular circles, he intuitively understood this burgeoning word due to his own experience:

Suddenly everyone I knew was talking about their bodies keeping the score, and we were all reinterpreting our lives through the lens of trauma. To my surprise, I found that in spite of the relative newness of this language, I was immediately fluent. I could, it seemed, intuitively conjugate its forms. And I found that this language, in a way that no other discourse had, gave me the tools to interpret both the external and the internal realities of my life in a new, truer way.^⁠¹

I imagine han will be like that for many, something that gives name to their felt and lived experience. So what is han? Here is Sung Park’s definition:

“Han can be defined as the critical wound of the heart generated by unjust psychosomatic repression, as well as by social, political, economic, and cultural oppression. It is entrenched in the hearts of the victims of sin and violence, and is expressed through such diverse reactions as sadness, helplessness, hopelessness, resentment, hatred, and the will to revenge. Han reverberates in the souls of survivors.”^⁠²

Han, then, is the effect of sin felt by the person or people sinned against. While the sinner may feel guilt or shame, the one sinned against has “entrenched in the[ir] heart,” the lasting effects of someone else’s sin. Central to Sung Park’s thesis is that it is inappropriate to speak of sin without also speaking of han. We, of course, do this all the time. We talk about “the doctrine of sin” and do so in isolation. Whole books are written on the doctrine of sin. Sermons are preached on sin. Courses are taught on the doctrine of sin. Practically this means that we talk about sin and then the forgiveness we can receive from God followed, often, by the need to forgive those who have sinned against us. But all of this is to deal only with one side of the equation. The treatment of han gets pushed aside. According to Sung Park, however,

“Sin and han must be treated together, if we are to grasp a more comprehensive picture of the problems of the world than that delineated by the doctrine of sin alone.” (10).

The problem here is that when we speak of sin without speaking of han, our sole attention is on the person committing sin and not the recipient of harm caused from that sin. Sung Park, again:

The church has developed the doctrine of sin and other related theological ideas with the sinner, but not the victim of sin, in mind. I consider this unchristian. To bring the good news to the poor and the downtrodden, we need to develop a proper analysis of the problems of the world viewed from the perspectives of both the sinner and the victim. The notion of han will help us to see the side of the victim. (13)

Sung Park makes the bold claim that to speak of sin without speaking of han is not just shortsighted, but selfish:

“Several theologians have defined sin as selfishness or self-centeredness (e.g., W. Rauschenbusch, H. R. Mackintosh, Reinhold Niebuhr, P. Tillich, and William Temple). But it is the doctrine of sin itself that is self-centered; it is concerned about and focuses almost exclusively on the sinner/oppressor.” (73)

I had a conversation recently in which someone asked me a question about a wrong which had taken place. The conversation sadly centered completely on sin; han was not even considered. I was asked, in an attempt to know if things were really that serious, “What would you say was the worst thing the person did?” I was stunned. This is a fundamentally different question than “What would you say was the impact upon the harmed because of this sin?” Notice that one question focuses exclusively on the sinner, while the other focuses on the victim(s). Considering han will help us to ask different and better questions which will focus not only on the forgiveness of the repentant person but also on the healing of the one(s) harmed. It is important here to note that Sung Park is not so naive as to believe these concepts are always mutually exclusive when it comes to people or people groups. Sin and han are both deeply complicated and this too must be kept in mind:

“It is important for this discussion to remember that sin and han are complex, entangled realities. While sin and guilt belong to oppressors, and han and shame belong to the oppressed, the two realities often overlap. Frequently—indeed, probably most of the time—they exist side by side in individuals.” (13)

A future post will focus on forgiveness (what it is and what it isn’t). But my desire with this post is to point our attention to Sung Park’s important work with the hope that we might begin to ask better questions that deal not only with sin, but also – and often foremost – with those who are impacted by sin and carry within them the marks of han. We needn’t neglect questions about forgiveness for the sinner, but that cannot be our starting and ending point. We need to ask better questions. What might it mean for the church to consider han as a theological category? How might the tending of the wounds of the harmed be encouraged if we ask questions with han in mind, and how might the wounds go deeper if we don’t?

Looking back at my experience as a young adult, I only knew how to respond to my friend’s experience of han through the lens of sin. I could only mutter something about forgiveness because I was unable to recognize han and, in essence, put the burden back on him. While forgiveness is of course a theological concept, I believe that we do great harm by trying to rush there without attending to the han in those whose hearts are wounded. I hope that we can listen well to our Asian sisters and brothers and learn to ask better and different questions and teach about both sin and han in order that we might not “dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious.” (Jer. 6:14).

1. Gregory Thompson, “Home Is Where the Welcome Is: On Hospitality and Trauma,” Comment: Public Theology for the Common Good 42, no. 2 (Summer 2024), 82.

2. Andrew Sung Park, The Wounded Heart of God: The Asian Concept of Han and the Christian Doctrine of Sin (Nashville, TN, Abingdon Press, 1993), 10. All remaining references will be given by page number following the reference.