Thread by @NeuroPoetica, Sunday morning (church) meditation:Coming from an abusive Evangelical background, the Bible is [...]

Sunday morning (church) meditation:

Coming from an abusive Evangelical background, the Bible is a minefield of abusive memories for me. Episcopal Hymns have been a helpful way to engage in faith concepts without triggers, to access ideas I may wrestle with or want to question...

A phrase stood out to me today in Zoom church that brought up a lot of pain for me, and a lot of questions.

I'd like to talk about it.

THREAD... [CW: Ableism]

"Christ the victim, Christ the priest"

As a disabled person who sees inspiration porn as harmful, I wonder if the origins of non-disabled people taking inspiration from "suffering & triumph" disability narratives, is rooted in a Jesus "savior by virtue of suffering" theology.

This thought made me feel quite uncomfortable, for so many reasons. In the past, a thought like this that made me uncomfortable with my faith might have been something I would've pushed aside & perhaps sought to take the easy path of sweeping it beneath another rosier scripture.

But, not today. Not anymore.

I've felt strongly that if I'm going on a journey of really seeking to figure out if I want to embrace faith in my life, I have to start again from the very beginning, from doubt, from questions, and from honestly allowing myself to explore them.

There was a time I went on a journey like that, when I first explored the Bible. It was like falling in love. I was open and honest about my questions and it was just a wonderful time for me of exploration. But I was young then, and like young love, it was naïve in so many ways.

I wrestled with my questions for a time, but when I decided I was "all in" I told myself that I had to submerge those questions, to drown them out with the love.

It wasn't until my life and my faith came to a crashing halt that I realized real love doesn't drown out questions.

For a long time, a VERY long time, a decade or so even, and even now many days, still, I didn't think I could reframe faith as anything I could interact with on any level. And the truth is, it devastated me. Faith, the journey, the joy and sorrow, all of it, was a world I adored.

As I ponder:

"Christ the victim, Christ the priest"

I'm thinking about victims pushed to be something for others before they're ready - victims called heroes when they don't want to be, harmed all the more by being held up as symbols while unsupported as people still hurting.

And you know what, I'm just letting myself sit with that painful dissonance, that the Church throughout history, has in many ways perpetuated a culture of beatifying suffering while not lifting a finger to alleviate it.

And as I sit with this, I am asking myself if there are any instances of the victim being the healer that are healthy.

And if so, what circumstances would have to exist for it to be healthy for the victim to ultimately be the priest or healer or caretaker, as it were?

And in pondering, what occurs to me, is just a very simple distinction.

A victim hailed as a priest unwittingly or unwillingly, being made an inspirational symbol involuntarily is being taken advantage of & used. A victim who willingly wants to use their pain/healing to bring healing to others is empowered by their agency to do so on their OWN terms.

Getting back to the Jesus analogy, I think what so many Christian leaders fail to recognize when they encourage hurting people to see their involuntary pain and trauma as their moment to be like Jesus, is that Jesus repeatedly referred to his own suffering as a WILLING sacrifice.

I myself failed to make this distinction so often, and as a result internalized SO MUCH ableist, abusive inner self-talk.

"Why can't you be more like Jesus? Why can't you use your suffering to help other people? Why can't you overcome it?"

So much bullshit.

And I have to confess, that I didn't just internalize the ableism, I projected it onto other disabled people. I'm ashamed to confess it. But, I believe true change, true growth, requires true honesty.

You may be reading this, and see this as a boundary issue. If you did, you would be right. It is a failure to respect the boundaries of how someone sees, understands and processes their own pain.

I do think, though, it is a difficult boundary to envision.

I think how we conceive of disability and pain, and what we each "should" do with suffering, really gets deep into how we think of life and death and human frailty and even human responsibility.

And ultimately, I think it's far too easy a bad habit, perhaps a bad habit many of us struggle with, to project our own personal moralities about suffering onto other people.

And I want to say here that so often, when we imagine ourselves in some kind of suffering, some kind of situation beyond our strength or capacity, that our gut feelings are fear (of letting people down) and shame (that we could disappoint people we care about).

So, in a sense, inspiration porn acts as a projection to soothe that fear... that somehow if we had something happen to us, that made us less able than we are, that we could and should "overcome" it and still inspire people around us, and essentially, still be "useful."

I don't know if everyone feels this way, but I suspect those who feel a strong need to be a contributing part of society may.

But, to return to the idea of boundaries, perhaps all that is left to say is that they are so VERY important when symbologizing other people's pain.

If a symbol of "suffering that brings healing" is offered willingly, it's a gift. As the death of Christ (as least mythologically) was.

But if that symbol is taken to soothe the conscious of those who fear disability or pain, it's a terrible violation.

It's the difference between:

Me writing this thread from my own pain and process, hoping it might help others.

V.

Me suffering from depression and being told years ago that God was not pleased by my frowning face at church.

That distinction absolutely matters, especially for people who've suffered trauma, like me.

It marks the difference between having years of panic attacks each time I felt "unworthy" in the Church, versus, today, me feeling good to write and share this thread.

#Empowered

/End

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