Understanding the Adverse Religious Experience

When I was a kid, my brother AJ and I along with our cousin Luke, who happened to live next door, decided to sneak out one Friday night and to “toilet paper” a home in the neighborhood. If you’re not familiar with the practice of toilet papering, it involves several rolls of toilet paper, thrown repeatedly into the tops of trees, leaving toilet paper draped throughout the branches. We did the deed and every branch of every tree in our victim’s yard had toilet paper dangling from it.

              The next morning AJ and I had to wake up early for a soccer game. We played on the same team, so we climbed into the car with our parents and headed for the game. As we made our way down the street, we passed the home we had toilet papered the night before. “Those poor people,” my mother remarked. Then, in a flash I felt my father’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Our eyes met. “It wasn’t you guys, was it?” Our silence was the only answer my parents needed. “You guys are grounded!” declared my father. “I’m really disappointed,” stated my mother.

              It’s a straightforward enough story that could be told by any number of families. But I want to highlight something interesting that happened during that experience. While both AJ and I were upset by the incident, our experiences could not be any more different. You see, AJ was upset because we got grounded which meant certain restrictions would be put in place and certain privileges would be withdrawn. However, for me, being grounded paled in comparison to the anguish I felt because I had disappointed my parents. My shame was deep and profound. It was almost too much to bear.

This is a peculiar outcome, right? Two kids experiencing the same thing, but the experience on an individual level was drastically different. So, what gives? Why the difference? I honestly don’t know. All I can say is that is the kind of kids we were. AJ was pretty unphased by my parents’ disappointment. It was more a steppingstone that led to a correction of behavior and onward and upward. I on the other hand was absolutely devastated by my parents’ declaration. What for AJ was a steppingstone of correction, was for me a stumbling block of self-loathing. Was that my parents’ intention? Did they intend for me to spiral into the abyss of self-disdain? Of course not. But that was the result, nonetheless.

              Understanding this uniqueness of experience from person to person is of utmost importance. It allows us to be empathetic humans. It allows us to validate other’s experiences, while still validating our own experiences. It opens the possibility that one person’s steppingstone could be another person’s stumbling block. I share the above story in preparation to make a tricky assertion. Could the thing that we hold so dear, the thing that gives life meaning and purpose, bring another person deep pain? I believe that religion and spirituality, while beautiful and beneficial for some, can simultaneously be problematic and painful for others.

              When people find out I’m a therapist, I often get asked if I specialize in anything. I typically will respond by stating that I have an interest in religious trauma. Sometimes this statement seems to cause discomfort in the person I am talking to. An awkwardness overshadows the once totally normal interaction. I have spent a lot of time thinking about what the cause of this discomfort and awkwardness might be. It is my belief that it comes from the fact that to acknowledge the existence of religious trauma, one must acknowledge that religion can have negative effects on some of those that follow its teachings. For the devout, such an acknowledgement can spark feelings of unrighteousness and disloyalty to something they hold in the highest regard. Religion has enriched my own life and can be beautiful and constructive in the lives of many. Religion can also be unintentionally damaging, leaving wounds that if left untended, could last a lifetime.

              I can think of a young woman who came out of a church meeting believing ardently that she was like a chewed piece of gum for decisions she had made. I can think of a young man who grew up loathing himself because he believed that he was a monster because of the feelings he experienced that did not align with his faith tradition. What for some might be moments of instruction and learning could for others be devastating and debilitating. Did the religious institutions set out to inflict such feelings? I doubt it very much. Nevertheless, those were consequences that came because of religious experiences and those consequences must be acknowledged, validated, and accounted for.

My intention with this blog post is not to rattle the cage of any institution or belief system but to build understanding. My intention is to offer up the possibility that one can be a devout, faithful believer and simultaneously acknowledge that injuries can occur due to religious experiences. Also, my intention is to speak to those that struggle in secret with feelings of shame and unworthiness connected to religious experiences. I want to acknowledge their experience and to let them know that their feelings are valid. What kind of feelings are we talking about here? Shame and unworthiness are two of many. I would also submit anger, sorrow, betrayal, depression, anxiety, and hopelessness. To those that suffer from their own adverse religious experiences, I say to you that I see you, I hear you, I feel you. You matter, your feelings and experiences matter, and I declare that peace is possible. Wounds, even old and deep ones, can heal with the proper care and attention.