The sin so sinful that it isn’t even sin.

From Kierkegaard:

Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is wretched, for it it lacks passion. Men’s thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. for a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for  being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. They do their duty, these shopkeeping souls…they think that even if the Lord keeps ever so careful a set of books, they may still cheat Him a little. Out upon them! This is the reason my soul always turns back to the OT and to Shakespeare. I feel that those who speak there are at least human beings; they hate, they love, they murder their enemies and curse their descendants through tall generations, they sin.

As Peter Kreeft has commented, “Sloth[the sin of passionlessness, of having no hunger for God] is the sin that is so dead that it doesn’t even seem to rise to the level of sin.

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