Therapy and Christianity
Since my ruminations last week on the connection between Christianity and the therapeutic culture (the TC), I haven’t managed to let loose of the issue. I haven’t received what I would call a lot of feedback (by the way, thanks Neha) on that posting, so most of this has gone on inside my head, without the discipline outside views and responses might provide. One reader who e-mailed me (but chose to remain otherwise anonymous) viewed the therapeutic potential of Christianity through the work of John Cobb who sees “the need for radical openness to learning truth and therefore being transformed from any source, any tradition.” In this view, therapy might also become a means of grace. I find this idea appealing, and it certainly fits the post-modern and ecumenical mindset that I’m most comfortable with. But I wonder if this might not assimilate all religions to a therapeutic ideal. Without knowing much more than I do about world religions, I can’t judge if the therapeutic fits them as readily as it seems to fit contemporary Christianity. I think there must be a deeper connection between Christianity and the TC, one that isn’t a matter of contingent convergence. Maybe Christianity didn’t just bump into the TC. Maybe the relationship goes deeper.
There is no clear, universal connection between religious belief and “feeling good.” Just as the religious traditions don’t generally advertise themselves as soporifics (“we will deaden your senses to the real pain that you suffer”), they also don’t claim to be the Prozac of the masses. More commonly religions offer some external good in exchange for belief and devotion. I remember a revival preacher telling us that if we tithed, God would pay us back many times over. That’s fairly primitive stuff, but television evangelicals still seem to hammer away at this message. From another perspective, though religion often becomes a motive for justice. Think of the Dalai Lama. Think of Jimmy Carter. Or, belief might be a ticket to a better berth in the life to come. That is the message that I remember best from my childhood training.
There is plenty of evidence that real faith just makes your life worse. The Old Testament prophets faced rejection, scorn, hatred, violence, and imprisonment. No wonder Jonah ran off to sea when he heard God’s call. Or, open the New Testament. After meeting God on the road to Damascus, Paul was torn out of the life he knew as a Pharisee and sent wandering and preaching all over the Roman world. He spent the last years of his life in prison pleading to congregations he had planted that they achieve some semblance of decent behavior.
In the therapeutic view of religion, however, the religious plea for justice and the hardness of the life of belief fade away in favor of a practice that should make us good and make us feel good. The Devil, Original Sin, evil all compress into “the problem(s)” of the individual and the path to a productive life that includes a personal relationship with God and interior peace (Oh my Gosh! Are we talking about mental health?) Evangelical Christianity certainly contains an opportunistic spirit that can turn almost any cultural excess to its advantage (Christian rock? Yes, it exists. Christian MTV? I don’t want to know). But I am suggesting that the relationship between Christianity and the therapeutic goes deeper, perhaps to the very core of Christianity. But to explore this, we need to consider Christian origins.
Roman society and government ignored or indulged religious cults. Even the Jews found a place in the Roman world, except when Jews in Judea rose in revolt. But the Christians seemed to irritate everyone. At times Christians had to worship in secret and try to avoid drawing attention to their congregations. As we all know, there were periods of persecution. Yet in spite of its marginality in Roman society, the Christian cult continued to grow. The success of the faith was sealed with the conversion of the emperor Constantine in 313, but by that time Christianity was already the largest cult in the empire. The success of Christianity may give us an insight into its current affinity for the TC.
But first we need to look at issues unrelated to the therapeutic. To begin with, persecution usually works. After Christianity became the official religion of empire (325), Christian Roman officials successfully chased into hiding and, eventually, out of existence, every Roman cult and every non-Nicene version of Christianity. Christian monarchs also had signal success in eliminating heterodoxies in their realms from Roman times to the Protestant Reformation. And if Christian examples aren’t convincing, consider the long-term success of Islamic rulers. After the rapid 7th and 8th century conquests of Arab armies, Islamic elites ruled populations that were mainly Christian. Without any extreme measures (Christians, after all, were recognized as religious fellow travelers in the Koran), the Islamic states became persistently more and more Islamic. Only the Jews have survived for centuries and in diverse cultures that discriminated against (at best) or actively attacked their communities. But Christianity not only survived in first to third century Rome, it flourished.
One explanation for the growth of Christianity comes out of the Milton Friedman School of Comparative Religion. Christianity offered a better deal, i.e. eternal life. All you had to do to get on board the Heaven-bound express was to give up your life of excess (which, let’s face it, most Romans couldn’t practice anyway), quit attending gladiatorial games, burn your idols, submit to Christian discipline, and contribute your bit to help widows and orphans and to pay the bishop’s salary. Is this a sweet deal, or what? But I have my doubts about the “pie in the sky” interpretation of Christian success. People must be trained to accept a religious concept, even one that seems so attractive to those of us within that religious culture. And even someone like, say for instance, me, who grew up with the expectation of living for-evuh would have to admit that Heaven seemed fairly unexciting. I had to assume that my whole consciousness about what was fun would change when I died. Otherwise, there was not much in the descriptions of Heaven to make eternal life seem, uh, blissful. But here’s my point about the necessity of being assimilated to a religious culture in order to accept its offers of bliss. One of the things that I notice, as an adult, about the Christian Heaven is that it is persistently sex-less. Nevertheless, I’m not motivated to become a Moslem because of the prospect of post-life congress with beautiful young dead women.
Another approach to the Christian success story sees Christianity as offering a superior cult to the other available cults (see Robin Lane Fox, Pagans and Christians). Wars, civil wars, plague, poverty, crime, and violence constantly preyed on Roman society, if not all at once certainly at various places and at different times. In such a world, an individual might find comfort in the promises of the Christian cult. S/he might also need, or appreciate the need of others for, the help the churches offered to members in distress. Certainly the ritual and fellowship may have integrated members more fully and closely than would have been possible in other cults. This makes sense to me, and I don’t dismiss this as a fundamental process in building Christian communities. But I wonder if communal integration really offsets the potential for social ostracism and persecution? I don’t pretend to know much about early Christianity, but it still seems to me that a therapeutic explanation needs our consideration.
First of all, healing makes up a huge part of early Christian activity. Although the Gospels all take us down the road to the Passion, the major work of Jesus’ ministry is healing the sick. When John the Baptist (another victim of godsmack—in prison and soon to be executed) sends word to ask Jesus “are you he who is to come” (Matt. 11:2-6 and Luke 7:18-23) Jesus identifies the important marks of his ministry as “a whole lot of healing going on,” i.e., “the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up” and, of yes, “the poor have good news preached to them.”
But I’m sure that any reader will now want to know if I’m claiming that these healing acts are literal, historical events. Well, anyone who knows me knows that I won’t have an answer for that. This healing language might refer to astonishing cures of psychosomatic illnesses. Jesus keeps running into demoniacs, and his disciples also have the power to deal the knock-out punch to demons. But whether we treat the this healing language as historical (i.e., something happened to make people well) or metaphorical, we are left with the historical “fact” that from its beginning Christianity is associated with healing.
That association continues. One study of the evangelization of the Roman empire offered the thesis that Christianity continued to grow because Christians continued to perform cures. Healing, then, was a special charisma (to use Max Weber’s term) or magic that belonged especially to the Christian faithful. This gave the Christian cult a comparative advantage over the other Roman cults that could only induce bacchanalian ecstasy or predict the future in the vaguest language known to western man.
And healing comes pretty close to what therapy offers. In fact, this might even be the reality behind the metaphor of healing. Someone living in poverty, struggling to find food and shelter each day, will find it impossible to achieve self-actualization. But belief might give that person the ability to snap out of a neurotic disability, or to turn away from the crippling sadness of grief and loss. Imagine the power of a cult leader who could perform the miracle of making someone feel better with no change in his or her outward circumstances. Such a cure could then draw the new convert into the socially meaningful life of the church and even convince him or her that Heaven looked like a pretty good deal.
And then, hundreds of years later, we have the TC. But maybe the TC is not a hegemonic product of consumer capitalism. Maybe it is another phase in the evolution of Christianity. I’m sure that you will agree that the implications of this are cosmic.
Comments
Another good, thoughtful post, John.
Regarding Christian pop culture: I recall reading about a non-violent Christian first-person-shooter game in which you run through a maze with a sword of God's riteousness, and when you chop bad guys, they drop to their knees and start praying.
I seem to recall the mainstream gaming site where I read that article actually gave the game a decent review.
The therapeutic expectation of Christianity leads to the difficult question of what to do with your faith when one's prayers for healing aren't answered... or, that is, when the answer seems to be "no". Catholicism emphasizes the value inherent in suffering -- just as Christ's suffering set us free, so we, when faced with suffering, can "offer it up" for the souls in purgatory or for any other benificiary, and thus place our otherwise meaningless pain in some cosmic context. A culture that confuses happiness with pleasure (or, that is, equates the lack of suffering with happiness) is hardly compatible with a culture of suffering (also known as "Catholic Guilt").
Posted by: Dennis G. Jerz | March 13, 2004 9:34 AM
And then there's the Hindu philosophy that justifies suffering in the present life by the deeds (read:misdeeds) of every possible past life. Or atleast the last one. Yes,we're supposed to find solace in the fact that suffering in this life equates to us being "good" human beings. There's the therapeutic aspect.
Posted by: Neha | March 13, 2004 10:39 AM
Hello "Spock." Enjoying the posts and threads when I can.
2 opposing comments I am passing on to you to muddy the discussion. I claim no ownership of either. I just collect what other people say to regurgitate at a later date with credit to the source.
Per my Liturgics and Eucharist professor: "God doesn't give a damn how you feel." This was with respect to our duty and privilge to praise and worship. Not feeling good is not a reason to miss Mass/Eucharist/service, and don't expect it to make you feel any better anyway. None of it is for you in the first place. We were put here for Him, not the other way around.
Per my Psalms professor: "Doesn't it always make us feel better to know that others suffer as we do?" This was after showing the REM video for Everybody Hurts as part of the lecture and class discussion on the dirges and laments in Lamentations and the Psalms of Lament. These parts of Scripture in their continued liturgical context (either in services or regular prayers like the Divine Office) are to share with you the never-changing fragility of humanity. This professor, as well as so many that develop a close relationship with the Psalms (like those who pray the Divine Office), proclaims the therapy availed one in the Psalter. Or an REM song that is similar.
"Out of the Depths I Cry to Thee, O LORD....."
Posted by: ambrose...always when and where you least expect me | March 14, 2004 1:43 AM
Not only is it a surprise to hear from Ms. Ambrose, but an added head-snapping moment to read that she appears to have seriously taken up the study of theology. I'd like to know more about that!
Dennis does a good turn by noting that different traditions within Christianity approach some of what I've identified as therapeutic issues in ways that my characterization seemingly violates. And Neha helps me get outside my Christian Weltanschauung. But it's worth noting that no Christian theologian would embrace what I've claimed for Christianity. What seems clear to me, though, is that at least for the evangelical current, there is less and less conflict with the TC.
Posted by: John Spurlock | March 14, 2004 7:25 PM
"But it's worth noting that no Christian theologian would embrace what I've claimed for Christianity."
Probably not. The writings of Justin Martyr (rather than the miracles of the immediate apostolic age) probably did the most for the spreading of Christianity. He was able to appeal to the Hebrews with Scripture and the pagans (like his fellow Samaritans) with philosophy.
I'll email you
Posted by: ambrose | March 16, 2004 1:45 AM
Modern therapy and religion, in my view, share a
great deal in common. They both offer pathways to
dealing with the stresses and traumas of life. They
both provide a "guide" (whether therapist, Rabbi,
Priest, or Shaman for the matter) who helps those
who are in pain, to find some semblance of psychic
peace, or at least, I think this is what they both
imply they can do. It doesn't seem all the shocking
to me that there are a number of commonalities
between Christianity and modern therapy (although I
see compelling differences as well). I would argue
there also are some striking parallels between
Judaism and modern therapy. For example, based on
my upbringing, Judaism, at its core, is about
healing and transformation...although, unlike
psychoanalysis, where the focus is primarily on the
individual, Judaism, like more contextually oriented
therapies (i.e., MFT) focus on healing and
transforming individuals, communities, and the
world. There is an underlying assumption that we
have the potential to be better than we are, and our
purpose here is to strive and struggle to do better,
to become more of what we have the potential to be,
to not allow pain to so distort us that we succumb
to violence and domination, and to leave the earth a
kinder more just place than when we entered it. It
all sounds very consistent with the form of therapy
that I practice as an MFT. Yet having said this, I
also want to comment something I see in Christianity
that seems entirelyantithetical to modern therapeutic principles. Most
therapies have a component that emphasizes the
importance of individuals taking responsibility for
their misdeeds. There is a heavy emphasis upon
being accountable for your bad behavior, and to
demonstrate emotional maturity and wellness, people
must be willing to heal the wounds they inflicted on
others, to repair injuries they caused, to take
responsibility to do right so to speak. But
Christianity, while it may preach about these ideas
in the abstract, contradicts this end. Unless I am
simply not getting it, it is not true that one of
the points of the torture and death of Christ is
that he suffered and died for our sins. That loved
us enough to suffer and die for our misdeeds and
now, we should be grateful enough to decide to do
better to honor the sacrifice he made on our behalf.
Am I not getting this right? If I am close,
my worry is this, doesn't that on some level work
against being accountable for our sins. After all,
why should I own my sins, Christ already suffered on
behalf of my sins, so now, as long as I accept him
into my life, and act sorry for what I may have
done, don't I have a "get out of jail free" card,
which is tantamount to not being responsible for my
own actions. This seems anti-therapeutic to me,
unless I am just not understanding.
Posted by: Tracey | March 19, 2004 7:21 PM
Goodness, Spock, what have you started?
Tracey:
If only it were true that Christ's suffering were a free pass....my life would be more interesting.
The Catholic teaching (with which many main-stream Christian religions are mostly in agreement) is that Christ's redemptive suffering was to free us from our sins in that if we accept His way we have the opportunity for the forgiveness of sins so that at our death we can have everlasting life in Heaven. Prior to the Passion and Resurrection, the Christian belief is that the departed souls were not united with God in Heaven but rather in hell (not punitive tongues of fire hell but holding pen hell). Those in hell at the time of the death of Christ as well as everyone forever are able to be reunited with God in Heaven. We still need to avoid sin and temptations to sin, as well as (very importantly) be very contrite for our sinfulness (Christians differ on the paths necessary for this, but you get the main point).
If you are really interested in the Christian teachings on this, I would actually recomend the Catechesis section of the Anglican Book of Common prayer, which can be found at www.bcponline.org. It explains a lot of these things most succintly and at times with beautiful language. The Catholic catechism also has some beautiful descritptions, but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who is merely curious--it is looser and baggier than a Thomas Hardy novel. If you want to understand a Christian perspective that is more influential to Americans than the Catholic or Anglican Churches, then maybe you would want to read the Southern Baptist's statements of faith at http://www.sbc.net/bfm/bfm2000.asp
I could get more specific, and there are so many people that can explain it better than I, but I have homework to do and my latest favorite form of procrastination is reading and commenting on as many blogs as I can. So you are stuck with me.
Posted by: ambrose | March 21, 2004 11:34 PM