A number of us grew up in religious traditions that encouraged us to see ourselves as broken, flawed, sinful or as downright ‘abominations.’ Leaving these institutions is one thing; untangling the knots we have tied around our souls can take years. Join Director of Music Eric Lane Barnes in a bright and liberating service that helps shine a light on how to heal from toxic theology.
We encourage masks in all buildings. Read more about our In Person Guidelines here.
• To virtually attend, please Zoom in using room number 989 3107 9078, passcode: chalice.
• To phone into the service, call 669-900-6833, Meeting ID: 989 3107 9078.
For those joining, please mute as soon as you enter the room, so everyone can hear. Please note, the services will be recorded, but at this time, there are no plans to share the recording.
Religious Education for children and youth will experience and explore on summer Sundays at East Shore in June, July, and August. We take a break from our classroom activities and dive into creativity; you’ll explore the arts and outdoor activities designed just for kids. Learn more here!
If you don’t have a chalice, but want to light one, check out our Making a Chalice at Home page.
In person services are followed by coffee hour.
A man dies and goes to heaven. Upon arrival St. Peter welcomes him and gives him a tour. The man is delighted with everything he sees: rolling hills, beautiful flowers, rivers and waterfalls, butterflies, people playing badminton. But as they’re walking, taking in the sights the man sees a structure in the distance: a huge, round brick enclosure with walls that go up fift feet or more. As they get closer he can hear muffled sounds of ‘How Great Thou Art’ coming from within. “What’s going on there?” the man asks. “Oh, those are the Southern Baptists,” St. Peter replies. They think they’re the only ones here.
Now, this joke has Southern Baptists in the enclosure, but it just as easily could have been Mormons, Lutherans, Jehovah’s Witnesses or any number of faiths that believed in what they thought was ‘the one true way.
I’ve shared parts of my origin story with a number of you, and some of from this podium. I don’t want to go into a detailed litany of what I came to believe. In short, I fell in with a theology that started with the premise that each human was separated from God, and that that was our own fault. From this idea of original sin I was encouraged to believe that all of my faults were caused by demons. And from there that even my assets were caused by demons: my inquisitive mind, my sense of humor, my creativity, my sexuality: all of it was demonic, and kept me out of fellowship from Almighty God – even though I had been born-again, and had done and said all the things the church elders had instructed me to do. From junior high school through most of college I dove deeper and deeper into this theology, distrusting and loathing myself more and more. Finally – deeply repressed and suicidally depressed – the brittle scaffolding of my faith began to crack and then crumbled, entirely, to the ground. From this place I began to slowly reassemble my idea of myself, the world, and all manner of thoughts and beliefs. I read books that had previously been forbidden: scholarly books on early church history, books and articles on the history of the Bible. I read about – gasp – other world religions and in the process discovered Tibetan Buddhism. One of the most illuminating books I read in this time of my life was ‘A History of God’ by Karen Armstrong. In this book she looks at the history and evolution of the three main monotheistic religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. She does this out of scholarly curiosity, and a great deal of respect to each. From the reading I did – and this took place over many years – I began to assemble ideas about what a good faith practice might look like, and how a toxic faith practice can so often get in the way.
Toxic theology, I began to see, is one which separates, often by strict binary means. ‘Good’ versus ‘evil.’ ‘God versus Satan.’ Black/white, right/wrong, saint/sinner. And ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ Acts of separation seem fundamental to toxic theology.
First, there is the separation of the individual from the divine. ‘God’ is ‘up there’ and humankind is ‘down here.’ This separation of humanity from the divine has a catchy name: Original Sin. Toxic theology also encourages separation of the individual from themselves – separating the mind/soul/spirit from the body, often with the idea that the body is evil. Toxic theology is keenly interested in creating and maintaining an ‘us vs. them,’ framework, with ‘them’ being considered as unenlightened, alien, evil, or actually subhuman. ‘Us’ would be those ‘in the fold,’ or ‘in the right,’ those who fully espouse the doctrine of its toxic theology and all the separations and divisions it upholds. On and on this splintering and fractioning goes until – if this theology has its way – we are each utterly alone, separated from ourselves, wondering why it’s so difficult to truly connect.
Now: I am not saying Christianity is toxic theology. I know many Christians, Mormons, Catholics, Lutherans, Baptists – both Northern and Southern – whose faith ignites their hearts and moves them to live lives full of compassion and connection rather than division and suspicion. I’ve seen toxic theology at work in AA meetings, with the AA ‘Big Book’ being treated as holy writ. I’ve even seen toxic ideology with certain nutritionists or exercise practitioners. If you don’t eat *this* or if you don’t avoid *this* then you are not living your full life. Toxic theology or ideology is that which says: this is the Truth, with a capital T. There is no room for discussion, or fresh perspectives, or even questions.
Toxic theology or ideology can result of the idea of a ‘superior class.’ This superior class – those who follow the precepts of whatever the given toxic ideology is – can and has used this sense of superiority to unleash unutterable horrors against humanity. We saw this in Nazi Germany, with the USSR under Stalin and China under Mao. All of these regimes deliberately exterminated millions of ‘dissidents,’ ostensibly in the name of holding up a ‘greater good.’ True, these were governmental genocides carried out by military forces. But trace the genesis of this genocidal activity back to its origin, and one can see it all begins with the idea of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’
Back to my own story. I had to come to terms with the fact that I could not disprove or dismantle over 2,000 years of doctrine. I was no longer in the church, but I had carried a significant amount its structure with me. As the horror trope goes, the call was coming from inside the house. In order for me to heal from toxic theology I had to come to grips with the fact that repeating its patterns was something I was doing – albeit subconsciously – to myself.
I began to look at what my mind was doing when these toxic moments came up, moments in which I felt like I was universally worthless or was gripped with anxiety or fear over the future. I came to recognize that my toxic theology separated me from the present moment. I had been trained to focus on the future (the apocalypse, or heaven) or on the past (Bible times.) My budding Buddhist practice gave me a perfect antidote for this by sitting in meditation and consciously remaining in the present. When my toxic theology told me I was not enough, I learned to pay attention to my senses and to breathe fully and relax into my body. When I felt an urge to beseech an external source for validation or salvation I would say these words: ‘Boy, toxic theology, you sure look a lot like late-stage capitalism.’ I found that if I would be patient and sit with myself with relaxed compassion, I would realize that now is the only moment there ever is. And that my being alive is enough: I don’t have to beg for mercy simply to be alive. Gradually, very gradually, the idea of original sin began to be replaced with the idea of Buddha Nature. Where original sin tells us that we are born miserable sinners, Buddha Nature tells us that we are already enlightened beings. That all we need to do is be aware, and connect. At first I thought: this is just wishful thinking, believing that I already have this Buddha Nature. But then I found that when I chose to accept compassion and love as my nature, it arose into being. The Buddha said, ‘What we think, we become.’ I found this to be true more and more as I practiced. I chose more and more to think kindness and compassion. And those qualities arose more and more, both in myself and in the world I perceived. I began to see that power lies in the act of belief, not in the object of belief. I want to say that again, because when this hit home, it really shook me to my core in a tremendous way: Power lies in the act of belief, not in the object of belief.
Oh, I also want to say that even though I’ve put all of these realizations and acts in a conditional past, they are very much a part of my daily awakening. I didn’t sit under a lotus tree and become enlightened. Each day is a further step in a gradual awakening.
So if toxic theology is one of division and suspicion, what would be its antidote? What would the opposite of toxic theology be?
Perhaps we could call it tenderhearted theology, or as Dr. Martin Luther King called it, ‘beloved community.’ I love what Ed said a few weeks ago: “I believe in God, and God’s pronouns are ‘us.’”
I have a visual aid that I’d like to show. This is something a wise therapist showed me years ago, one who had been through his own journey out of toxic theology.
Let’s call this the Wheel of Life. At the center, at the hub, is The Divine. Call it God, call it Buddha Nature, call it The Force: but that which is perfect and radiates compassion and love. From this hub there are spokes. Innumerable spokes, although this graphic shows about 34. These spokes are all different ways to The Divine. We have Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Jainism, Paganism, Sikhism, Shinto – all are based on an idea of meeting and expressing The Divine. Notice that when the spokes meet in the hub – the hub of love – they are all close to one another. And notice that the further away they are from the hub the further away from one another they are. Said a different way, the further each of these spokes – these theologies or ideologies – are from one another, the further away they are from the delicious creamy center of love. This image helped me greatly in healing from the toxic theology I had ingested so long ago. The spoke I had been riding on was way out in space, far away from any other spoke – we were, after all, the ‘one singular true and only path to God.’ And we were very far from any Divine Center and, indeed, from our very own selves.
If toxic theology is about separation, then a tender-hearted theology or beloved community might be one of connection. If love is at our center, we are connected to all beings, to ourselves, and to the mystery of the Divine.
Power lies in the act of belief, not in the object of belief. Let’s choose to live in love, and to recognize the Divine in one another’s eyes.
There is an idea in Buddhism known as The Cradle of Loving-Kindness. One day I decided to use this image specifically in meditation, and here’s what I did.
Hold your hands in a cradle position near your heart. Let’s put ourselves into this cradle: all of the light, all of the love sure, but also all of the fear, all of the pain, all of the grief. Let us cradle this fear, this anger, this grief. Let it rest in loving-kindess. Close your eyes, and listen to what comes up. What does the fear say? What does the sadness or the confusion say? Does it say ‘I’m lonely and unlovable?’ Then say ‘It’s okay. You belong. I am here.’ Does it say ‘I’m afraid of what might happen?’ Say ‘It’s okay. You belong. I am here.’ Just as a wise parent won’t try to argue with a distressed toddler, we don’t have to justify the pain or explain away the confusion. Just notice it with compassion and choose to remain. ‘It’s okay. You belong. I am here.’