healing

I’m slow to see things sometimes. I got a question in the comments, a great question, that inspired me to write the post for today. Thanks Wendi!

The question is:

What would you say to someone who’s has trauma from both religion and atheism? Anyone else had this experience?

Regardless of where trauma comes from, it’s important to recognize first of all that it shapes to some extent not only our views on the world, but also our behaviors towards the world, people around us, situations, and experiences. Easiest example that I can come up with is how kids who grow up in a home where this is alcoholism learn very predictable ways of communicating and behaving that work to protect themselves; the behaviors may be unproductive, or perhaps even harmful, but they work to protect from actual, and perceived trauma that may yet occur. In the 90’s, the buzz word for this behavior experience was co-dependency.

I’ve experienced trauma from both atheism and religion–perhaps not to the extent that some who I’ve grown to know have–but trauma none the less. One example of atheistic trauma that I experienced was in university, when a professor who was teaching a class I was in decided to take aim directly at me for what I believed, what I understood, and for asking questions that may have moved towards a more theistic understanding. At one point in a lecture, he came down to me put his face about 4″ from mine, and forcibly yelled at me in the same way a child would justify something to another child in a playground. Recognizing what he’d done, he quickly did the same to a student who was sitting next to me.

I also get a really sick feeling when I watch debates between theists and atheists, or more specifically when I come across statements/videos arguing for either side. It just doesn’t jive for me anymore: I’m not about proving my point to anyone, trying to convince anyone of my beliefs, or bringing anyone forcibly to them.

The first step in addressing my own trauma experience was to acknowledge I didn’t need to argue about my faith anymore, or try to justify my beliefs to anyone. The only duty I had to carry out was to love as I would be loved–to see the face of Christ in every person I met, regardless of how they may see me. That’s no easy feat as you can imagine. But taking the need to play the game of proof or no proof, right or wrong, that means I stopped feeding the need for the trauma to be fed. It meant recognizing that I needed to adjust a lot of behaviors around the model of being right or wrong, the need to find a perpetrator and a victim, the duality that our human world needs to exist.

That doesn’t mean I don’t think people, including myself, can’t ever be in the wrong. It just changes how I choose to navigate the world, what I choose to avoid as being necessary to my spiritual well being, what I choose to accept as ways of expressing my faith in a spiritual context.

Which leads me to how I address trauma.

From a support perspective (I’m a support worker for a non-profit agency by day), it means recognizing that in order to develop a healthy relationship with a person, you need to acknowledge where they’re coming from, what they’re saying to you with word, what they’re saying to you both verbally and with actions. You modify your behavior to recognize a trauma that exists in a person’s life, to honour their lived experience. That allows trust to begin between two people. Once you establish trust, you can begin to help people to see where what they are doing may be trauma based. You help them by using gentleness in every aspect of your time with them: words, how you touch (a high five, a hand on the shoulder for support, a hug), how you are present (do I talk when it’s needed or do I allow myself to be present in silence, maybe in a different room while they do something else). As the relationship grows, you help to stretch a person to move beyond the bubble they’ve created with their experiences, including trauma. It might be as simple as helping someone to take out the garbage, go grocery shopping, or more serious like working toward writing a resume, finding a job, going on a date, finding somewhere to live, looking for a therapist, dealing with addiction, navigating a relationship, navigating the death of a loved one or friend.

In the context of the worshiping community I’m a part of, we first clearly acknowledge that in the past, people may have experienced trauma in a religious context but may still feel a draw towards the experience of spirituality through liturgy. It’s a challenging thing to face that, and to approach wanting to attend a Mass, when every element of that Mass may trigger painful memories, anxiety, fear. Keeping that in mind, no one is ever required to sit through. If someone feels triggered, there is a safe space outside the worship area that they can move to. There are individuals who are trained in trauma informed support available to help through what someone is experiencing. There’s opportunity to debrief after the liturgy, to talk about experiences that may have come up, to share with one another, to share with others trauma we may have in common and ways we’ve worked through it to a more healthier experience. We livestream for people who want to feel safe in their own space, who can just turn it off when they want, or who want to listen in.

Specifically, our worship community is made up of mostly 2SLGBTQIAP+ people who are working through that trauma experience. We see worship as an act of spiritual experience–yes, religion has shaped it. But we reclaim it, change it as we need to to make it more in line with who we are, recognizing that there are elements of the liturgy that are crucial and unchanging.

Regardless of which direction a person’s heart takes them, be it towards atheism or theism in one form or another, the important thing is to be aware of who we are, where our instincts lead us, how we shape our understanding of the world, and to open our hearts towards the experience of love.

In dealing with my own personal trauma experiences, I try to recognize why a behavior is occurring, if it’s trauma based, and if it’s trauma based, what might the initial cause be. The reflective act of contemplation has helped a lot to calm my mind, as well as having a supportive partner, and a supportive doctor! Medication helps–don’t deny yourself that tool if you need it.

Once I recognize that certain experiences, like crowds for example, may trigger a trauma based reaction, I push myself gently into situations that are going to force that trauma response to occur…maybe. When I saw that crowds were a trigger for me, I started going to Costco to shop for groceries with my husband. I don’t know if it’s like it where you live? Costco is a zoo where I live. Being there among the crowds, focusing in shopping rather than focusing on the crowd, I started to develop a thicker skin to the trauma response. Which doesn’t mean I don’t get exhausted and peopled out! But the time it takes for my social battery to drain has increased a lot.

When I recognized that my trauma around religion was based primarily in confrontation, when the confrontations came up where people challenged me on my beliefs, I simply changed my approach: “I’m really sorry, but I don’t want to participate in a debate about this. I don’t try to enforce my beliefs on anyone. I allow people to make up their own minds and make their own choices.”

I’ve as of yet not met an angry atheist. I hope when I do, I’m able to move past my trauma responses and validate that in my world view at least, Christ dwells with them as much as they dwell with me, meaning I am in a position where I need to love. Sin, in my word view at least, is anything that gets in the way of experiencing and sharing Love.

I hope this helps! And, as always, your mileage may vary.

At that time, when Jesus had entered Capharnaum, there came to Him a centurion, who entreated Him, saying, Lord, my servant is lying sick in the house, paralyzed, and is grievously afflicted. Jesus said to him, I will come and cure him. But in answer the centurion said, Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, and have soldiers subject to me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it. And when Jesus heard this, He marveled, and said to those who were following Him, Amen I say to you, I have not found such great faith in Israel. And I tell you that many will come from the east and from the west, and will feast with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, but the children of the kingdom will be put forth into the darkness outside; there will be the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth. Then Jesus said to the centurion, Go your way; as you have believed, so be it done to you. And the servant was healed in that hour.

–Matthew 8:5-13

From “Homosexuality in the Bible: The Centurion’s Servant” by Isabelle Green.

Many scholars have highlighted the connotation of the Greek noun pais, which the centurion uses to describe his ill servant. It has a number of different meanings, such as ‘boy’ or ‘slave’. When referring to a ‘slave’ in the analogy he presents to Jesus, however, the centurion uses the standard Greek doulos, supporting the critical interpretation that his pais is no ordinary servant. Scholars have likewise suggested that it would be unlikely for a centurion to go to such lengths for a normal member of his household staff, and therefore their relationship must have been something more than that of master and servant.

One theory is that the pais was not the centurion’s servant or slave, but his ‘son’. However, a law introduced by the Emperor Augustus in 13 BC, which banned soldiers below the rank of officer from marrying, undermines this interpretation: although soldiers would father children outside of marriage, it was unlikely that he would have had an illegitimate son living in his home. Instead, many have suggested a reading of the pais as his male lover, due to literary evidence of homosexuality in the Roman military. Moreover, pais was sometimes used in Ancient Greek texts as a label for the younger partner of a same-sex relationship, alongside expressions of love or desire. In the Luke version of the passage, the centurion labels his servant entimos, which can mean ‘honoured’ or ‘cared for’, but may also signify emotional closeness in a romantic partnership.

The scholars Theodore W. Jennings and Tat-Siong Benny Liew have suggested that the dynamic between the centurion and his pais was more of a patron-client relationship; in this case, the centurion takes on the role of an influential patron, while his lover is a younger, less powerful man who relies on him like a client. This theory may provide an answer to a puzzling element of the story: why did the centurion not want Jesus to enter his household, despite asking for his help? Jennings and Liew explain that although the centurion is desperate in his appeal, he also fears that Jesus will come to his home in a position of authority and replace him in the role of saviour and patron to the pais. Again, the relationship lends itself to an interpretation of sexual power.

If we accept the theory that the connection of the centurion and his servant is homoerotic, then Jesus’ amazement at the centurion’s faith becomes highly significant in the discussion of religion and sexuality. Rather than recommending the death sentence that is prescribed for male homosexuality in Leviticus 20, Jesus praises the man’s faith, telling the crowd that he has never seen anything like it, and heals the pais. Far from condemning homosexuality, Jesus might be endorsing it. This reading of the centurion and his servant completely subverts the hetero-centric framework of love and relationships in the Bible, and therefore ought to be central to the discussion.

the hermit gardener

making a place and a sacred space

Inspiration!

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