Fear Tactics: The Root of Religious Trauma

 

My first real memory of church is of being scared to death. Or being made to be scared to die. However you want to say that.

Actually, my first memory of church is of having the car break down on the way there. I was probably four or so, and we were going to some church way out on the edge of town, and we broke down on the highway. The next time we went to church was at this tiny little Southern Baptist church a few blocks from our house. We didn't drive; we walked. I think I was five. Not older than that, for sure, but I don't think I could have been younger unless I'm misremembering which house we walked from, not that that is important other than establishing the age.

This church was so small it didn't have any kind of childcare for during the service, so I was in "grown up" church. I was probably wearing my suit, because my mom believed at the time that you should always wear your very best to church. I had this little, light blue suit that I absolutely hated. Writing this, now, I'm wondering if it was maybe even Easter or something and that's why we were there. It's not like we went much to church when I was a kid. At least, not yet.

Now, I'm not going to try to pretend that I remember what the sermon was about. I have no clue. What I do remember, though, is that there was some hellfire and damnation in it, because I left that service deathly afraid that I was going to die and go to Hell. Seriously afraid. So afraid that I had nightmares for years of being chased by the devil... He was in a rollercoaster, by the way. I was running on my legs, and he was behind me in a rollercoaster chasing me so that he could catch me and drag me away to burn forever in a pit of darkness. That was the sermon that started my obsession with bedtime prayers, as if praying "now I lay me down to sleep" was somehow going to keep me safe through the night and keep the devil from getting me.

I was five.

I was traumatized. Not that I knew that. I mean, I was five! I can still remember that fear in my chest when I think about it. The terror of going to Hell.

I would like to say that what happened to me was an accident. That I wasn't supposed to be in that service and that that message wasn't meant for me. I would like to say that it was "parental error" due to the fact that we hadn't been to that church before. But it wasn't. There were no childcare services offered. Children were supposed to be there, and I'm sure I was not the only kid in that service.

And it wasn't just that church. The putting the fear of Hell and Satan into kids so that they will want to convert is standard operating procedure for fundamentalists. They teach it as part of their fucking preaching programs. "Get 'em while they're young" and all of that.

Unfortunately, there's not a lot of raw data out there about religious trauma, but I spent a lot of years working in the church-industrial complex, and I can tell you that of people I have known who were childhood converts that the vast majority have said that their reason for becoming a "christian" was because they didn't want to go to Hell.

That's just sad.

Let's look at this another way for a moment:
"christianity" is supposed to be about love, so much so that Paul says that non-"christians" will be able to tell who the "christians" are by their... love. So the religion that is supposed to be, above all else, about love instead uses fear to drive conversions. The vast majority of people claiming "christianity" converted during childhood. That point was driven into us over and over again. Seriously, "Get 'em while they're young." And the way to do that is to make them afraid of the consequences.

Ironically, it's those heathen liberals who tend to appeal to love and fellowship and building people up. If you're going by Paul and looking for love in the world as identifiers for "christianity," you're not going to find that in "the church." You're going to find it with the liberals. "christians" are most certainly not known for their love.

To get back to the point, though: The vast majority of "christians" became "christians" because of a traumatic fear experience as a child, at least those in the USA. Maybe it didn't cause nightmares for everyone, but, when you feel the need to let some strange man, even if he is your pastor, dip you backwards into a pool of water to keep you from going to Hell, there is something wrong. Especially considering that Hell is make-believe, anyway. You may as well tell kids that Santa won't bring them any toys... oh, wait...

All of which is compounded because "we" want kids to believe that God/Jesus loves them and, yet, God/Jesus is also going to throw them away into Hell for all eternity for being bad. And, even after you're "saved," there is some unknown unforgiveable sin that'll get you sent straight to Hell no matter how good you've been, so you have to be the fucking best all the time, because you don't know when "god" might pop out and say "Ha ha!" and toss you in the pit.

This trauma is so deep and so pervassive that there may not be a way to heal it from those who have been affected. I'm 50 years old, and I can still have moments of fear and second guessing before I remember to engage the very rational part of my brain and talk myself out of it. I'm not convinced that most people have a very rational part of their brains or, if they do, it has never been used enough to be worthwhile. Possibly, the only thing we can do is to start trying to prevent this trauma from being visited upon future generations of children. And it's time that we start doing that.
Somehow.

At the Crossroads (Guitar) (pictures I like)

You ever want to sell your soul?
Meet the devil at the crossroads.
Probably at midnight.
You think you can win?

How To Be... a Werewolf

You're probably thinking right about now that the way to become a werewolf is pretty simple. All you need to do is go out and find one and let it bite or scratch you.

That would be incorrect.

Sure, plenty of books and movies depict it that way now, but that has newly been tacked onto the werewolf legend, probably due to its association with vampiric legends due to Dracula. Which is kind of interesting, because Stoker drew on werewolf legends and attached them to the vampire legends. Although it had been believed in Medieval Europe that you had to burn a werewolf corpse to keep it from rising from the dead as a vampire. So if you're looking to one day be a vampire, it appears that being a werewolf is a good start.

But, okay, if you can't become a werewolf from getting bitten, how do you become one? It appears that there are many paths to werewolfdom, and many of them are surprisingly easy to accomplish.

One of the best ways, because you can control it, is to simply wear a belt (or girdle) made of wolf hide. Putting on the belt would cause the transformation to take place, instantly and painlessly. Removing it would revert the wearer to human form. However, some sources said it wasn't quite that simple. Some said the strip of wolf skin, the wolf strap, had to come from the devil. Although you could still control the transformation, because the devil gave it to you, you could never rid yourself of the wolf strap.

Some legends say that you could become any animal at all by drinking rainwater from its footprint. Wereelephant, anyone? Or, you know, maybe find one of those stone dinosaur footprints and drink from that. Weretyrannosaur. One catch, I couldn't find anything that said how long these transformations would last, just that drinking the water would trigger them. I imagine they must wear off; otherwise, no one would have ever known they'd happened to begin with.

Other sources say that you can become a werewolf by sleeping outside in the light of a full summer's moon as long as the light is shining directly on your face. I suppose this must be part of where the full moon part of the transformation legend comes from. The sources implied that transformed human would return to normal at dawn. But these weren't permanent changes; you'd have to do the same thing any time you wanted to become a werewolf.

Still other legends claim that one would need to be cursed by the devil to become a werewolf. Or enter into an allegiance with him. Evidently, there was once a group of sorcerers that craved human flesh, so they entered an agreement with Satan to have wolf forms so that they could fill their craving. They were given straps so that they could control their transformations.

And other sources say that the werewolf has been cursed by God or Angels or, even, saints for committing terrible offenses. I'm not sure what constituted a terrible offense. But, then, still other sources say that werewolves are actually the servants of God in his battle against Satan. They are known as the Hounds of God and go down into Hell to battle demons and witches.

Oh, and some people are just born that way.

There you go. If you want to be a werewolf, you have a lot of options to choose from. Personally, I'd go with the wolf hide belt. Then, again, being a weredinosaur sounds pretty cool, too.

Notes:
1. During the Middle Ages, it was thought that werewolves did not have tails (you know, because people don't have tails), which was how you could tell a real wolf from a werewolf. To keep from being found out, werewolves would run with one of their hind legs extended behind them so that, from a distance, it would look as if they had tails.

2. In his book Fool Moon, Jim Butcher features werewolves. I appreciate that he didn't just go with the modern concept of were-ism being like a contagion. He incorporates many of the various werewolf legends into The Dresden Files, which I find a nice change of pace from most modern renditions.

EDIT:
This post is related to the post, How To Be... a Vampire

How To Be... a Ventriloquist

I've been involved in puppetry at various times in my life. It's actually something I have really enjoyed. Now, you don't need to be a ventriloquist to do puppets. At all. You don't even have to talk. When I was in high school doing puppets at church, we only ever used taped skits. Yeah, on, like, cassette tapes. That's just how we did it. Which was fine except for that one time when the cassette player ate the tape during a performance. Mostly, we worked on hand movements, because the hand movements are actually difficult if you want your puppet to look natural. But that's beside the point...

Anyway, working from a recording worked fine. Most of the time. Until that time we were doing this day camp thing out at an actual campgrounds and could only take the castoff puppets and no recorded shows. It was my idea, but the guy in charge of the puppets wasn't going and wouldn't let us take all the proper equipment, so I decided I was just gonna improvise. And I did.

I had this old puppet I called Mr. Purple, because, well, he was purple. Bald and purple with a red nose. I made up this voice for him that I can no longer remember, and I used to get behind a table turned on its side and talk to the kids. It wasn't so much performing as just interacting with them and being crazy and silly. They really loved Mr. Purple. Things were fine like that for a few days until, one day, when it was time to go, one or two of the kids wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Purple, but there was no place for me to hide. This kind of thing had never happened in one of our regular puppet shows, and I didn't know what to do. I mean, the rule, the BIG rule, was to NEVER let any of the kids see you with a puppet on your arm or talking for the puppet. NEVER break the illusion.

But the kids were really heartbroken over not getting to say goodbye to Purple. I caved and brought him out on my arm right there in front of them and tried to not move my lips as much as possible. After that, for a while, I practiced not moving my lips, but some of my... antics... with Purple required full vocalizations, and I couldn't do those without opening my mouth all the way. What I found out, though, is that the kids didn't care. They just didn't. To them, I was the one attached to Purple, not the other way around. They loved him, not me, and they had to be able to give him hugs when we needed to leave everyday. It was really sweet.

I learned a lot that summer about a child's ability to create reality.

And that's your free story for the day, because it doesn't have anything to do with ventriloquism other than my failed attempt at it.

I find ventriloquism fascinating, and I love to watch a good ventriloquist.

But none of this is how ventriloquism started. No, it's not. Let me just say:
Have you ever wanted to start your own religion?

See, the Greeks believed that the spirits of the dead spoke to people through their stomachs; that's what causes stomach noises, you know, the dead trying to reach the living. Some people could interpret these noises, and the voices of the dead would speak through the living without the lips moving. These people were called... are you ready for this? No, really, are you? It's awesome. Seriously.
They were called gastromancers. And, yes, the practice was called gastromancy.
It was also through gastromancers that the gods spoke to people in the temples and such.

And that's how you can use ventriloquism to start your own religion. Just tell people it's "god in your stomach." Works every time.

Through much of history, then, ventriloquism has been used as a religious or spiritual practice. A notable exception to this was during the Middle Ages in Europe, when it was viewed as a form of witchcraft. You definitely didn't want your belly speaking up in those days or you'd be accused of being possessed by a demon or the Devil himself.

Eventually, though, in the late 19th century, it became a stage act, which brings us up to modern ventriloquists.

So the main thing here is just to practice (a lot) with keeping your mouth still while you talk. BUT you don't have to keep your lips completely still, because the real art of ventriloquism is the art of illusion, just like any stage magician. You make the audience look where you want them to, make them believe that you believe you're talking to some other object or that the sound is coming from somewhere else, and they will believe it, too. That was really the trick I had with Mr. Purple. I treated him as if he was real, not like he was a puppet, and, so, he was real to those kids.