Why do we resort to masochism? We all want to be happy! How
then do we explain self-mutilation and other forms of self-punishment? When we
look only at sadomasochistic sex or at people who cut or torture themselves, we’re
tempted to regard these phenomena as pathological. However, when we recognize
the full range of masochistic behaviors, we’re forced to seek a more global
answer—perhaps one based upon our common humanity and having a common
rationale. I’m going to try to identify the thread that ties all of the
individual manifestations of masochism together.
First of all, let’s take a look at a form of masochism with
which most of us are familiar. Masochism seems to be at work when we silently
endure painful relationships, ones we need not endure. How does this work? We
feel guilty about something and, therefore, want to “atone” or compensate for
this guilt by enduring the discomfort. Strangely, there seems to be a
subconscious life-script or inner logic that requires us to transact a
mysterious deal: we pay the price by enduring the discomfort, and we receive a
reduction in guilt.
Similarly, according to this hidden contract, after having
paid the price of suffering, we entitle ourselves to enjoy the things that are
more important to us, like sex. I too had participated in this script, which
determined what pleasures I could enjoy. Over-consumption would make me feel
guilty. Consequently, if I restricted myself to a three minute shower, I was
entitled to feel that I was a good and worthy person. If I exceeded the limits
that my legalistic script imposed upon me, I’d have to compensate with some
form of saving-the-planet. Similarly, when I’d get an “A” on a test, I’d feel
worthy and entitled to buy a chocolate milkshake. However, if I failed to
receive the “A,” the milkshake wouldn’t have felt quite right going down.
Somehow, I understood that my coveted sense of worthiness came at a price.
Either I would have to earn it or suffer for it. In conclusion, we are in
bondage to an uncompromising slave-master.
In many religions (or perhaps all), self-denial and/or
self-flagellation have become the price for righteousness or feelings of
OK-ness. Sometimes they take the form of puncture wounds or walking on hot
coals or even knives. As an Augustinian monk, Martin Luther endured walking on
his knees, walking barefoot in the snow and long periods of sleeplessness in a
vain attempt to prove himself to God. The faithful prove themselves by what
they suffer.
In other religions self-denial is accomplished by making
costly sacrifices, sometimes human, in order to earn the favor of their
deities. As the plague stalked Europe in the 1300-1400s, a flagellant sect
arose. They thought that the plague was a sign of God’s displeasure and punishment.
Therefore, the flagellants paraded through Europe whipping one another,
convinced that this would earn God’s favor. And for this, they received high
grades from their admirers.
Masochism takes many forms. Benedict XVI wrote about another
form of masochism. He notes how Western culture has turned against itself and
its own Christian heritage in a vain attempt to purchase self-validation:
·
“This case illustrates a peculiar western
self-hatred that is nothing short of pathological. It is commendable that the
West is trying to be more open, to be more understanding of the values of
outsiders, but it has lost all capacity for self-love. All that it sees in its
own history is the despicable and the destructive; it is no longer able to
perceive what is great and pure…Multiculturalism, which is so constantly and
passionately promoted, can sometimes amount to an abandonment and denial, a
flight from one’s own heritage.” (Quoted by Jean Bethke Elshtain, First Things, March, 2009, 36)
Self-castigation is subconsciously understood as a
reasonable payment for self-validation, a necessary defense against shame. It
works something like this: “I am a good and worthy person if I champion the
interests of others and am willing to criticize my own traditions.” (It is not
my intention to devalue good deeds, but rather their self-righteous
motivations!)
Can we ascribe all of these phenomena to pathology or to the
idiosyncrasies of a limited number of cultures? Obviously, there is something
more global taking place. Ordinarily, it would have been more in keeping with
our pleasure-seeking nature to believe, “I make my gods happiest with me when
I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” However, this type hedonistic religion always
seems to give way to its more masochistic forms.
Why haven’t we become more proficient in rewriting our
scripts to eliminate the necessity for pain and to maximize pleasure? Why has
this mysterious script proved itself so impervious to editorial “improvements,”
especially in view of the encouragement given to hedonism by our permissive
age? Evidently, there is something else indelibly taking place in humanity’s
game-plan. This is why human history consistently testifies that we are more
than ready to pay the price of self-mutilation and self-deprivation.
I don’t think we’re ready to answer this question until we
have expanded our inquiry to include the sister of self-denial—self-indulgence!
They both address the identical problem of shame and unworthiness and seem to
be opposite sides of the same coin. Writer and psychotherapist, John Bradshaw,
points out that these opposite responses are both shame-generated:
·
“The most paradoxical aspect of neurotic shame
is that it is the core motivator of the super-achieved and the underachieved,
the Star and the Scapegoat, the “Righteous” and the wretched, the powerful and
the pathetic.” (“Healing the Shame that Binds You,” 14)
Interestingly, both self-indulgence and self-denial are
closely associated in the practice of Eastern religions. Some of their
practices attempt to dry up desire and lust through the fires of
self-mortification, like rain evaporating on hot Florida asphalt. By
extinguishing desire, they hope to transcend the “world of delusion.”
However, the opposite teaching of self-indulgence is often
taught as a more appealing alternative. Instead of trying to burn away their
desires, some gurus teach radical self-indulgence. As one Hindu mystic
commented, “Fasting will only increase desire, and you will only think about
food. Instead, consume as much honey as you can, and you won’t desire it
anymore.”
The Doors’ Jim Morrison had a similar outlook. As is the
case with all of us, his sense of shame wouldn’t be silenced by self-denial.
Instead, he believed that it had to be saturated with self-indulgence until it
fell apart, like a soggy paper towel. He was convinced that this would result
in freedom and spiritual purification:
·
“Sensuousness and evil is an attractive image to
us now…It’s like a purification ritual in the alchemical sense. First you have
to have the period of disorder, chaos, returning to a primeval disaster
religion. Out of that you purify the elements and find the new seed of life.”
(Quoted from “Hungry for Heaven,” Steve Turner, 96)
How do we explain self-mutilation and self-indulgence in the
same breath? Is there a common thread connecting them? All humanity experiences
guilt and shame. Psychotherapist John Bradshaw claims that these feelings are
so powerful that they are life-controlling. Guilt and shame tell us that there
is something the matter with us and compel us to do something about the
disturbing alarm they sound. We therefore resort to denial, self-mutilation,
self-indulgence, drugs and even workaholism to convince ourselves that we’re
worthy people, in the face of our persistent shame. We cut ourselves and for a
few moments feel that life is good. (Clinical studies have shown that after an
act of self-mutilation, cortisone production, directly associated with stress,
is reduced.)
We deprive, afflict,
and sacrifice ourselves for good reason, but why should self-castigation make
us feel better? We are created in the image of God. Therefore, we are
highly moral creatures, and we are painfully aware when we violate our internal
God-infused rule book. In addition to this, we also have a sense that there
must be retribution for our infractions. We’re then confronted with two
choices: either we confess and seek the mercy of the One who created the rules,
or we deal with the problem ourselves. If we have a problem with God, we
usually deal with the problem ourselves. This is exactly what Adam and Eve did.
They covered their sin and shame with fig leaves—hardly an adequate solution.
We, however, do the same thing. Instead of fig leaves, we cover ourselves with
good deeds, accomplishments, or self-affliction. We convince ourselves that we
are fully able to pay the price for our guilt and shame. And we often do such a
good job of this that we actually become convinced of our own righteousness,
superiority, and entitlement.
But an entitlement mentality is a lethal poison. Because of
their self-inflicted punishments, the flagellants convinced themselves and others
that they were even more spiritual and entitled than the priests. Consequently,
they entered the cathedrals, driving away the “less worthy” presiding priests,
sometimes even beating them.
Guilt and shame cause such psychological turmoil that we
can’t ignore them. We feebly erect a wall of denials and self-righteous
rationalizations in a vain attempt to shield ourselves against their
indictments. However, we find that they are like inflated balls, which
inevitably resurface no matter how valiantly and persistently we fight to keep
them submerged.
Are we condemned to vainly pursue an unattainable freedom
from these slave-masters? Have we become servants of denial and image
management to hide the painful truths about ourselves? It would seem so. If we
need to feel that we are significant and worthy people, and our unalterable
script tells us we’re not, we have a problem—a fatiguing quest after the
transient feeling of worthiness. We need to always be in the right. This places
others, our dearest relationships, in the wrong.
The Biblical faith affirms that we do have a very real
problem—God (and even our God-given human nature) has been offended by both our
sin and our inadequate, self-absorbed attempts to “atone” for our sin through
self-righteous acts and justifications. We have covered ourselves with fig
leaves in the form of accomplishments hoping that this would obscure the
offense and silence the guilt and shame. When this failed to work, we ran from
God and refused to meet Him in the light of true confession. And we have been
running ever since.
However, He paid the price through mutilation by our human
hands so that we wouldn’t have to suffer mutilation at His hands or even by our
own hands. If we are convinced that Christ has paid the price for our sins in
full, and that nothing will separate us from His love and forgiveness, then the
sense of guilt and shame and the need to continually prove ourselves is
neutralized.
Bradshaw claims that “By being aware of the dynamics of
shame, by naming it, we gain some power over it” (23). He’s right, if, by
“being aware of the dynamics of shame,” he means understanding that we have a
real-live sin problem that only grace can adequately address. We do have to
“name it” by confessing it, not in denying it or by covering it over by
self-atonement or good deeds. Good deeds do play their very vital role, but not
as a ploy to deny our guilt. As rain falls from clouds, so must forgiveness
come from God. Any attempt to forgive ourselves is nothing short of masturbation
and a refusal to grapple with the objective offense of our sins.
Martin Luther subjected himself to the most extreme and
painful disciplines trying to earn God’s love. However, in the midst of his
studies, the concept of grace and reconciliation through Christ suddenly came
alive as never before. In his “Commentary on the Book of Galatians,” he wrote:
·
“Although an impeccable monk, I stood before God
as a sinner troubled in conscience, and I had no confidence that my merit would
satisfy Him. Therefore I did not love a just and angry God, but rather murmured
against Him…Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the
justice of God and the statement, “The just shall live by his faith” [Rom
1:17]. Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which,
through grace and sheer mercy, God justifies us through faith. Therefore I felt
myself to be reborn and to have gone through the doors into paradise.”
Luther discovered something that many of us have
discovered—the Word of God is transformational! It and the God who gave it are
the necessary antidote for masochism in its various forms. I still don’t enjoy
taking long showers, but I no longer experience the need to prove my worthiness
by keeping them under the three minute limit. In contrast to the reassurances
of many psychologists that I was a “great guy,” it was only the Word of Christ
that was able to convince me of this and free me from my internal shackles.
When we reject the gift of God’s righteousness procured on
the Cross, we condemn ourselves to endlessly pursue our own righteousness, like
Sisyphus self-condemned to push his boulder. When we fail to receive this
payment for sin, we likewise sentence ourselves masochism’s vengeance,
endlessly trying to pay off a debt that is far beyond our means to ever
satisfy. Consequently, we are always paying, pushing, and trying to prove
ourselves.
In retrospect, I find it so remarkable that Jesus’ death on
the Cross is the only antidote for humanity’s obsessions. It’s also the perfect
piece to complete the jigsaw puzzle presented by our confused lives. Pleasure
seeking, denial, and masochism each had failed to fill the gap. This forces us
to ask the question, “Why is there is such an incredible fit between this
Bible-centered event that occurred 2000 years ago and my mental well-being?”
Perhaps, Christ is the missing piece!
