Shame on who?

Last night I told facebook a story that went like this…yesterday blake and i were watching the royals game when a pitch got away. the royals batter picked it up and gave it to the catcher. blake said, "why did he help the other team?" i said, "maybe he's a christian." blake said, "what's a christian?" i have no idea buddy.

The reply that got me all inspired to write today was “shame on you”. I think it was a joke, but when I read those words I remembered why I don’t miss my Christian life. Shame was a great word for what I grew up with. It was called Christianity, but I don’t think that’s what it really was.

There seemed to be two parts to it…perfectionism and shame. I always felt the pressure to do the right thing and if I didn’t I’d have shame follow me around mercilessly. Deep into my adult life I was still haunted by little fuck ups and things that made me look stupid that I did years ago. I don’t think that’s how Christianity was supposed to play out when they drew up the blueprint.

My mom lived by the credo “just be a good girl and everything will be all right.” Her Christianity defined her. As long as she was perfect-ish she could feel good about herself. And that came from her parents. My mom just followed orders. If she stepped out of line she would enter into the shame circle. So she stayed in line. Straight sure, but so narrow also.

I recently found a letter my mom wrote to the women in her mom’s bible study. My mom was in her mid-20s and was doing “the Lord’s work”. She talked about working with high school girls and pointing out things in their lives that they were doing that didn’t please the Lord. She was taught to do things one way. That’s what she did. And then she sent a letter back to her teachers so that she could get a pat on the head.

She needed to do the right thing to validate herself. But, is blindly doing the right thing actually the right thing? What if your teachers didn’t get it? My mom may have followed their instructions to a t, but there wasn’t time to question things or observe and appreciate other life views.

And that’s sad, for the sake of the kids my mom shamed into accepting her religion. Teenagers have it hard enough…they don’t need some know it all Christian telling them where they’re letting the Lord down. I don’t picture the Lord constantly looking over our shoulders waiting for us to fuck up and then giving us that “now you’ve done it” look. But, I used to. Because that’s how it was taught to me.

I think I told the story before about my dad teaching me to ride a bike. The only thing I remember from the experience is one of the times I fell off. My knee jerk reaction was to look back at my dad. And my memory is his demeanor being a teeth clenched combination of frustration and disappointment.

But, why did I look back at him? Maybe I’d come to expect that reaction. I don’t think my head would have swiveled around if I was used to him running to me when I fell, making sure I was okay and picking me up to make sure I got right back in the saddle.

Instead I wanted to know if I screwed up. Was his face going to tell me it was okay or that I’d done something wrong?

So there were elements of that flawed God concept I grew up with at work in my relationship with my dad and mom as well. Like it felt like they were standing over my shoulder waiting for me to screw up so that they could tell me that I was a disappointment.

I already felt shitty about myself. I didn’t need my mom’s tendency to remind people of ways they didn’t please the Lord or my dad’s inability to know how to handle me falling off a bike. Perfection and shame. That’s a pretty deadly combination, but my mom grew up with perfectionism as the family religion and my dad grew up with a family that made sure he was fluent in shame.

So, Christianity is an odd place for them to find common ground. But, for both of them, I think it wasn’t so much Christianity as Christianity should be, but more of a place to hide from awful things. It became a sort of Christian Protection Program…they were both relocated from reality to hide in this seemingly safe and good place.

It looked good. But, was it?

I’ve loved where life has taken me, because I’ve been able to see Christianity from the outside looking in. it’s hard to see anything but the good when you’re so immersed in it. but, man I want my boy to not grow up believing everything he hears. I want him to question things. I want him to think for himself. I want him to value listening over preaching. I don’t want him to hide from real. I don’t want him to be immobilized by shame.

When he falls off his bike I want him to know i’ve got his back, but at the same time I want him to fucking ride where he wants to ride, not where I want him to go. it’s his life. I spent way too much of my life living the way I was taught by my parents. If all four members of that house are fucked up, maybe there’s a better way. I’m looking for it. if I find it, great…if not, I’ve loved all these experiences and conversations and real I never would have otherwise gotten to take in.

What’s a Christian? I have no god damn idea, but I don’t think it should be spoon feeding organized religion to your kids with one hand while holding a rod in the other waiting to strike them if they don’t drink the kool aid. After a lifetime drinking shame, guilt and perfection smoothies oh man does a few shots of Grace taste great. I’m not a perfect dad, but when we fuck up, my boy knows we’re going to talk about it and deal with it…whether it’s me or him who’s fallen short. We don’t have to hang our heads, because there’s this guy who carries our shame for us. He’s got a religion named after him. I’m just not sure that religion really represents the grace and shame busting that he was all about.