Perhaps no place do I see this issue of polar extremism more than in religion. Especially issues of those who have had some experience of pain associated with their religious experience. This is not a criticism by any means, but rather, an observation. As someone who felt very hurt by my religious group at one time, I well remember pulling away from the church and wishing I could just find someplace else to worship where people weren't socially irresponsible, emotionally inept, or relationally clueless. I wanted nothing to do with my church. So I'd find places where I could try on other religious congregations. I wasn't interested in other beliefs because I felt firm in my own. But the people in my church were problematic.
So on Sabbath morning I'd go and sit in St. Paul cathedral and listen to mass, joining in on the "Our Father" and fading out when the theology went in a wierd direction. It took awhile, but I finally realized that I needed a sacred experience and needed to be with people who believed the same things that I did--no matter how they acted or what they were like. After several weeks I was ensconced in a church with members whom I grew to love and appreciate. For a long time I was content to be as opposite as the "wierd" ones as possible. No one would have guessed my faith affiliation because I was trying not to be like the ones that drove me to distraction. But eventually it became critical for me to examine what I believe, how attached I wanted to be with the church, and whether or not I could commit to a group of people who drove me crazy. It is not at all unlike living in a family, actually.
Now I teach in a church sponsored university, speak almost daily of my faith, and try to contribute to the church in various ways.
I'm glad I went through this experience, as difficult as it was, because now when my students talk about their spiritual issues, it resonates with me. A few weeks ago I asked my students to discuss their spiritual journeys until the present. "What spiritual experiences have you had in your life that influences the way you approach spirituality and religion with your clients?"
It was amazing to me to hear that every single one of them had been raised with fairly strong involvement in a variety of denominations. Most of them tearfully recalled painful family events that made them question everything they ever felt or knew about God and religion. They then went off in the opposite direction in a reaction to their pain. Most were still entrenched in that oppositism. It was a curious thing though, to hear them describe themselves in terms of what they now are not, as opposed to what they are and what their religious ideas are now. They are still living spiritual lives organized around the original faith experiences of their childhoods. It's just that it's an inside-out experience: the opposite, polarized experience.
It struck me that many of them have thrown the baby out with the bath water. There are so many positive features of every religion, and these things should not be discarded in an attempt to leave our shadows behind. But reactive people do this routinely. I have watched lots of people go from church to church, trying to find the perfect place, the right preaching, good fellowship, clear theology, and the right mix of personal freedom and spiritual responsibility. It always feels good as long as the main feature is the opposite of the troublesome feature they so resented when they were offended at church, etc. But over time, things shift and they find another objectionable feature and need to relocate to a place that is the opposite of that. It is difficult to live on the repelling end of a magnet.
People do this all the time with relationships. One ends a relationship because the husband is lazy and doesn't lift a finger to do anything around the house. So the wife vows, as she leaves him, that she will find someone who carries his weight in the chore department. She finds a man who is very handy and who can do anything. This makes her very happy, until she realizes that he isn't affectionate at all. So once again, she is looking for someone who is handy and affectionate. This can become protracted and painful, as in frustration she tells you that she just hates men after all of this.
It takes time to carefully think through what to do about our spirituality and our relationships. We need to consider what is good about these things, and then what else do we need and how we might get them or negotiate issues around these features. I always tell clients who have experienced spiritual abuse, or who are angry at their church, to wait before making any decision about what to do. In the heat of anger they are ready to leave in a huff, jump on some other bandwagon, or go tell someone off in church leadership. If they can hang in there for some months, they might swing back the other direction. In the meantime, they can devote thought and exploration to their own spirituality.
Being differentiated means that we have taken time to get over our reactivity and logically think about what elements of our religion or church body we want to keep and where we want to make changes. We need to stick close for awhile and avoid forfeiting the parts of our affiliation that we truly enjoy, before augmenting or changing some of our practices. We might need to be more in the middle on who we have over from church, or what kinds of issues we talk to other congregants about, how close we want to be to the pastor, or which elements from other denominations we really admire and would like to use for ourselves. This is infinitely better than walking away from all of it.
In Southern California's Inland Empire, we have over 80,000 former church members of my denomination. There are even ex-member organizations where people go and discuss how angry they are at the church and how they have really been worked over by something or someone. An acquaintance went to one of these meetings and chatted with a group of people without letting them know that he is a church member in good standing. Interestingly, the comments of the attendees were decidedly sad, and many explicitly stated how much they miss the church, the subculture, and the practices of the church. All of their conversations were about loss. Why didn't they go back or find something similar? They were invested in being the opposite of the hurtful church or dyamic. It was easier to simply walk away from everying. When they found out that my friend wasn't just like them the conversations stopped cold.
Interesting, isn't it? It is truly difficult not to fishtail wildly in the wake of spiritual or relational trauma. Finding the middle ground that is composed of revised elements and new input, is quite difficult. But well worth it in the long run.
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