A Hollywood Commentary on Original Sin

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Jan 26, 2026

In the 2025 movie Nuremberg, the narcissistic war criminal Hermann Göring, brilliantly played by Russell Crowe, taunts the US Army prison psychiatrist: “I am the book! You are the footnote!” Without commentary on the movie’s historicity (and the customary swipe at Pope Pius XII), notice how the metaphor aptly helps illuminate the history of mankind, God’s revelation, and God’s loving providence.

The proverbial sausage-making of politics—sometimes a worthy profession—forms the cutting edge of secular history. The media shelf life of political events is usually short, yet some events endure and help us understand the generally accepted narrative of history. Nevertheless, many historians are constantly at work reshaping historical narratives one way or another. The debates over the Civil War (or the War Between the States!) provide fascinating examples. The footnotes of history are often necessary both to understand and to revise a history book.

We can use the same metaphor to understand God’s revelation. The Creed is the book. The Apostles’ Creed (or the Nicene Creed, if you prefer) provides a historical overview of Scripture. God creates, Jesus redeems, the Holy Spirit sanctifies through the Church, and we will face final judgment with the resurrection of the dead. Scripture and Tradition provide the essential footnotes.

The Magisterium operates at the cutting edge of Church history. The shelf life of papal and episcopal exercises of the Magisterium varies. When the grand history of the Church is written, a given papacy may be compressed into a paragraph—or less—in a historical tome. The great “book” of the Creed remains, surrounded by clusters of footnotes that help us understand the contours of our belief. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, many of those footnotes also remind us of the fallen humanity of people—priests, bishops, and popes alike.

The book of our lives begins at conception, where we claim our inestimable dignity as human beings created in the image and likeness of God. The major events of our lives rise above mere footnotes and form our personal creed, the narrative of our existence. Nevertheless, our many footnotes help illuminate the book and reveal its deeper meaning.

At the beginning of His public ministry, Jesus preached, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” (Matthew 4:17) Repentance opens the door to the kingdom. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Church provides sacramental assistance for repentance and participation in the kingdom of God through grace.

When we receive the Sacrament of Baptism, we renounce Satan and profess our belief in the Creed. The stain of Original Sin is abolished. Sinful inclinations remain. We sin. We repent. We repeatedly receive the absolution of the Church in the Sacrament of Penance. Periodically, we look back at the book of our life and, in pensive moments, examine its footnotes with honesty and humility.

Every footnote deepens our self-understanding. Some identify strengths of character; others point to weaknesses. As we mature, most of us can point to significant events that shaped our character: the example of a father who was a model of justice; a strict but just professor who instilled intellectual rigor; a competent supervisor who taught courtesy and professionalism. Reviewing these footnotes with prayers of gratitude is a worthwhile spiritual exercise that fosters virtue.

We also have footnotes that harmed our character and perhaps robbed souls of sanctifying grace, necessitating a good Confession. These events, too, are embedded in the footnotes of our lives and readily surface in thoughtful meditation. Yet we are understandably reluctant to speak of them. The Church’s seal of Confession acknowledges that these are “natural secrets” that protect our reputation and dignity. Alas, in the age of Internet gossip and the long memory of digital images, our natural secrets are perpetually at risk of exposure and misuse.

Here is how the history of our lives is written: we are born into a fallen world. We possess good and bad inclinations that arise from our good humanity, wounded by sin. We commit good—sometimes heroic—acts. We commit bad—sometimes profoundly evil—acts. We become virtuous. We become vicious. We repent of our sinful actions. Yet it is exceedingly difficult to identify those sinful inclinations that predispose us to sin until grace brings them to light.

As I carefully avoid prompting unhealthy self-revelations, here is one of my safe footnotes. As a freshman in high school, a friend and I goofed off in Latin class, and I never mastered the language. I grew up. I became a priest. Because I goofed off in Latin class, I am not the priest I could have been. I regret that venial sin. It is merely a footnote in my life—but one with significant consequences. Aside from sloth, I cannot identify the array of sinful inclinations that ruined my opportunity to become proficient in Latin. God forgives, but we must live with the consequences of our choices.

At the end of that Nuremberg movie, the government psychiatrist returns to the US and writes his book. A radio commentator asks him, “You were dealing with the [war criminals]—who, you must admit, are a unique people.” The movie’s scriptwriters were likely unaware that they were describing the universal effects of Original Sin when they placed these words on the lips of the protagonist: “They are not a unique people. There are people like [them] in every country in the world today.”

The prophet Jeremiah explains the mystery of sinful inclinations that form the footnotes of the book of our character:

More torturous than all else is the human heart,
beyond remedy;
who can understand it?
I, the Lord, alone probe the mind
and test the heart,
to reward each man according to his ways,
according to the merit of his deeds.
(Jeremiah 17:9–10)

Jesus is the Book. We are His glorious footnotes if we remain rooted in Him and repent of our sins. “I am the vine, you are the branches.” (John 15:5)