If you were raised in fundamentalist Christianity, or even in the slightly less stringent evangelical flavor of the faith, you were probably not allowed to be pissy. This is especially true for women, because fundamentalist constructs are primarily patriarchal in format. Even if you didn’t come up in church, if you grew up in America you still got the lite version of this patriarchy model, because we are, in theory, “one nation under God,” which means our religious roots are showing.

Women, religious or otherwise, are generally speaking taught to be nice. Politeness and gentleness reign supreme. It’s not lady-like to raise your voice, express disagreement in public, or swear like a sailor. And why should you be questioning authority anyway? There’s an established belief system going on; men (for the most part) control that system; and your status as a member of that system and therefore that community requires acquiescence to those beliefs. To question, contradict, or to complain threatens your belonging. And so the tendency to suppress disagreement is strong. And suppressed disagreement, along with being unheard, being denied a “voice”—these lead to anger.

But anger is healthy, normal, and to be expected. In fact, anger is helpful. Here are my top three reasons anger is spiritually beneficial.

Anger Signals When Something is Wrong. Anger, like pain, is a helpful thing. Just as pain signals that something is wrong within our bodies, anger signals that something is amiss in our souls. When I talk to my children about anger we often refer to it as “a cover-up emotion.” I ask them what the anger is hiding, and they can usually come up with an answer. Women who have grown up in the church are not so skilled at this. They haven’t been practicing it since they were 3 years old, like my kiddos have. And it can be a hard skill to learn. But in time, with practice, it becomes easier. The next time you feel a surge of anger, ask yourself, “What is underneath this?” You might even try visualizing the anger as a stone. Then imagine yourself lifting up the stone, and see what is underneath. See if you can address that root issue. I bet you’ll be surprised at how skillful you are!

Anger Allows us to Live our Authentic Self. The modernist approach to faith values conformity to creed over allegiance to our authentic self. In a post-modern milieu (which is where much of the non-religious west is living these days), authenticity is highly valued. It is considered a hallmark of emotional and spiritual good health. For those of us raised in church, especially fundamentalist and evangelical branches of the church, were brought up in the modernist approach. (The church is about 10-20 years behind the cultural learning curve when it comes to the modern-to-post-modern shift.) But we are living in a post-modern culture. This push-pull relationship between these two messages—“agree with the creed” and “be your authentic self” creates cognitive and emotional dissonance. This dissonance often manifests as anger. Pressing through the anger into your God-given internal authority, and trusting that authority to give you permission to express your authentic thoughts, releases you from that dissonance and allows you to flourish in the playground of truthfulness. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Embrace your authentic self by expressing your anger and find your way to the other side.

Expressing our Anger Allows us to Mentor the Next Generation. Post modernity is not strictly a generational game. I’ve meet people in their 70’s who are more twigged into post modernity than I am, and I’ve met 20-something's (mostly those raised in fundamentalist churches) who don’t get it at all. But generally speaking anyone born in the Gen X, Gen Y, and anyone falling under the category of Millennial Kids are thoroughly embedded in the post-modern mindset. This means they value transparency over all. They can sniff out a lack of authenticity from a mile away, and intuitively recoil from it. If we are to be good guides—good teacher/learners—for and with these next generations, we must embrace our authentic selves. And if we are going to be honest with and about ourselves, anger is going to have to be acknowledged as part of the package. Learning to identify and express our anger will help the next generation—especially the young women who are coming up behind us. Isn’t that a legacy worth leaving. If you can’t be angry for yourself, do it for your girls.

What do you think? What has been your experience with expressing anger in your life? Have you found a way to express anger within a conservative religious construct? Have you had a breakthrough in dealing with anger? Share your story in the comments below, and add to the giant pool of wisdom, forming now.

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is an alt.minister, writer and mom based in Seattle and now living the expat life in Copenhagen, Denmark. She dispenses care for creative souls at Magpie Girl. She’s here every Sunday, or you can follow her on Twitter or friend her on Facebook. Thank you for being here!

Related Links:

Megan Smith puts her foot down in Mothers, Anger and Speaking the Hell Up over at Megan’s Minute.

Spike Gillespe of Spike Speaks offers her take on women and anger in her book Pissed Off: On Women and Anger. (Go be nice to her on her blog, she had to say good bye to her canine companion this week.)

Gentle soul Sharon B. at Contemplative Spirituality gets riled up about the same Easter message that set off, oh, and also about the Taliban. (No doubt.)

Cheryl van Daalen-Smith, RN, PhD has a great article entitled Living as a Chameleon: Girls, Anger, and Mental Health in The Journal of School Nursing.

Melissa Dittmann addresses Anger Across the Gender Divide in The Monitor on Psychology.

Jane E. Brody wonders,  To Vent or Not To Vent: That is the Question over in the New York Times.

I read your Twitters and Facebook status updates, and occasionally peek at your blogs. And you know what? Y'all are way WAY too busy! I see a lot of posts about too many meetings, insurmountable to-do lists, and rushing about on weekends. I'm beginning to suspect that some of you have pure caffeine running in your veins.

Now you know I care, right? So this is not a critique. We are all just trying to work it out with the smallest amount of fear and trembling possible. You're doing your best. But if you feel like your adrenaline is constantly pumping because you can never get enough done, then maybe it's time for an little intervention.

So let me say this about that, you cannot fit two gallons of water in a pint glass. You're just going to have to Do Less. I know it feels like you can't do less. I know it feels like you HAVE to to everything on your list and more. But I can virtually promise you that this is not the case. I think we can help each other through this.

Are you practically salivating right now? Are you simultaneously wildly hopeful and scared shitless? I thought so. Then this Do Less thing is for you.

Now if you don’t mind me blowing my own horn, I’m starting a Do Less Campaign on May 15th. I hope you’ll come and play, because I think we can help each other get on our way to a more zen-like existence. But if your heart is beating a zillion miles and minute RIGHT NOW, and you know you have to get some help, here are some gifts from the giant pool of wisdom ready and waiting to support you.

Leo Babauta  at Zen Habits has this great starter-post,  Eliminate all but the Absolute Essential Tasks (Do you already love Leo? Need his 12 Key Habits at your finger tips? Leonie Allen at Goddess Guidebook has a rainbow colored version ready for you to download free as your computer wallpaper.)

Kelly Rae Roberts lets you in on her story and give you a fly-on-the-wall view on how she manages her busy world with Thoughts on Routine and Structure.

Jamie Ridler at Starshyne Productions ran a fabulous series of guest posts last week on Balance. Click around on the author’s names for great advice from Danette Relic of The Drawing Board, Annabel Fitzsimmons of Clear Space, Sunny Schlenger of Sun Coach, and Meghan Genge  of the beautiful More to Me. And I got to play along too with  What the Danes Taught Me About Finding Balance. 

Now here’s the thing, that’s a lot of links. Instead of letting it overwhelm you (What! I’m supposed to do less not read more!), just take a deep breath. Click on the ones that seem interesting, skim the first two paragraphs. You will know instantly which ones are for you. As for the rest just click that tab closed guilt-free. (Yes, even mine.) Promise? Great!

This is going to be so good for your family, your health, and your soul. Can you feel it? Yeah, me too. See you on the 15th, and in the meantime, practice a little by taking just one thing off your to-do list for today. Decide not to do it -- evah. Good job! You’ve already started to do less!

What are you NOT going to do today? How do you help yourself do less? Do tell!

________________________________________

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is an alt.minister, writer, and mom living the expat life in Copenhagen, Denmark. You can follow her at Twitter, friend her at Facebook, and read all her goodies at Magpie Girl.

It’s Eastertide and for the last couple of weeks we’ve been experimenting with the story of Jesus—in particular with the story of the cross, the tomb, and the resurrection. Some of us feel quite secure in the standard Christian understanding of this story, that is to say with the literal understanding that every thing which happens in this account is factual. While others of us have been squirming around a bit because that particular interpretation doesn’t ring true to our brand of intellect, it doesn’t rest easy within our particular souls.

What if the story of the cross, grave, and resurrection are not factual, but are indeed true. That is, what if they are a truth-bearing-myth—a story that doesn’t recall scientifically verifiable facts, but nonetheless tells us accurate things about the world and our place in it?

In addition to being a personal hero of mine, Joseph Campbell is widely considered the American godfather of comparative religions and master of the myth. In his interview with Tom Collins at In Context, Campbell explains myth this way:

[Myth] puts you in touch with a plane of reference that goes past your mind and into your very being, into your gut. The ultimate mystery of being and nonbeing transcends all categories of knowledge and thought. Yet that which transcends all talk is the very essence of your own being, so you’re resting on it and you know it. The function of mythological symbols is to give you as sense of “Aha! yes, I know what it is. It’s myself.

Many post-modern thinkers have an intuitive pull to this way of understanding of their holy stories. They accept the mystery and wonder of the account, and they feel within themselves a pull towards the truth encapsulated within the story. But their intellectual self also rebels against the demands that they suspend disbelief and acquiesce to something as empirically true, when it seems at is base to be something other. Campbell says the demand that we accept our Christian stories as factual is created:

Because the imagery that has to be used in order to tell what can’t be told, symbolic imagery, is then understood or interpreted not symbolically, but factually, empirically. It’s a natural thing, but that’s the whole problem with Western religion. All the of the symbols are interpreted as if they were historical references. They’re not. And if they are, then so what?

Campbell then goes on to explain what he means by the term “symbol.”:

I’m calling a symbol a sign that points past itself to a ground of meaning and being that is one with the consciousness of the beholder. What you are learning in myth is about yourself as part of the being of the world.

So, if one were to use Campbell’s mythological approach to understanding the story of Jesus; then the cross, grave, and resurrection would be seen as symbols pointing us to a deep, universal message about death, forgiveness, reconciliation, atonement, reunification, and life. Proving the details as factual becomes at least secondary, and at most irrelevant to the truth-messages contained within.

What do you think? Does that sound promising? Do you think maybe, you might be dancing around the edges of this kind of understanding? Do you wonder if perhaps, this mythological approach might be able to feed your soul and honor your intellect? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below.

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is an alt.minister, writer, mom and American expat living in Copenhagen, Denmark. You can find her at Magpie Girl, follow her at Twitter, or friend her on Facebook. Thank you for reading!

Want to read more women who are blogging about matters of faith? Here are few of my favorites from the RevGalPals webring.

Dylan Breuer at Sarah Laughed: culturally current lectionaries, U2charist resources, and inspiring words.

Jan Edmiston at A Church for Starving Artists: the charm of the name says it all for me. I especially liked this post on 10 Things to Toss.

Julie Hilton Steele at Confession of a Backyard Hermit: on what happens when you step out of the church and into the garden.

Juniper at Possible Water: who personally coached me into more and more freedom when it came to being a woman, a mom, and a pastor. (One big tip from Juniper, add laughter.)

Lest you think that this was just one error in judgment committed by enthusiastic man in times gone by, rest assured that this is still common practice. Just this month a friend of mine posted on her Facebook page that her elementary-aged son was told by a guest speaker, “If there’s one thing I want you to remember from our talk today, it’s that you killed Jesus.” This was a K-5 assembly. He said this to kindergarteners. And this is not an isolated incident. Certainly the uncanny popularity of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ with it’s voyeuristic violence attests to the draw that this kind of message still has for many religious people today. 

In all sincerity, if that works for that’s fine. If guilt over the violence meted out to Jesus thousands of years ago motivates you to live more peacefully, more holistically, and with more shalom in the here-and-now, that’s great. But if it does not – if the violence and the gore, the accusation and the guilt makes you queasy, or dissatisfied, or a little bit pissy--join the club.

What you are experiencing is intuitive dissonance. This kind of dissonance often arrives within your being before the vocabulary to describe it gets delivered. This knowing before naming can make it seem less real or less true, but it’s not the case. For years, maybe even for decades, I intuitive knew that this approach to the story of Jesus’ life, death, and continued influence did not work for me. I instinctively reached for another answer, but I did not know what is was called. The theory of non-violent atonement. That’s the phrase I was looking for. Those are the words on the tip of your tongue.

The Guardian’s religion columnist and Oxford lecturer Giles Fraser has a knack for putting theological terms into the vernacular. In his article Easter’s Hawks and Doves he does just that, as he discusses two main ways to approach the Easter story. The “you killed Jesus approach,” he calls the way of the Hawk. In his terminology this way of understanding Easter “is structured around the notion of retribution…[That] Sin must be paid for with blood, just as crime must be paid for by punishment.” This is the Old Testament standard of blood sacrifice, summed up in the phrase “an eye for an eye, a tooth for tooth.”

But, Fraser offers, there is another way of understanding this story, and that is the way of the Dove. The Easter of the Dove is not built around the idea of retribution, but around the concept of reconciliation and forgiveness. This is non-violent atonement. As international pastor Chad Rimmer points out in his post From Good Friday: What can we say about violence and our hope for redemption, non-violent atonement focuses not on the violence of Christ on the cross, but on the words of Christ from the cross--the most famous of which are “forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Rimmer suggests that on Good Friday:

“Our meditation for this night is not on the redemptive violence done to our Lord, for there is no such thing. Violence can never be redemptive, but it can be reconciled. And through this gate of death, Jesus shows us how…shows us an image of real power to transform our grief, suffering and sinfulness, [turning] the violence we endure and the violence we commit into possibilities for hope and new life.”

In this approach, we can embrace the words of Jesus, which as Cambridge University Chaplin Maggi Dawn points out were not:

“An eye for an eye?” No, says Jesus, that’s won’t do any more. Turn the other cheek. Step away from violent retribution, not just by limiting it to violence in equal measures, but by putting a stop to it and finding a new way of dealing with grievances. So it would be cheap and sad to base our own understanding of the atonement on the idea that God would then demand a tit-for-tat payment for sin.”

What do you think? Does the idea that you could look at the cross on Good Friday and see something other than blood atonement seem possible to you? Do you think you could find it meaningful to meditate on the words of Jesus from the cross and find a powerful demonstration of reconciliation and forgiveness? Do you think you could step out from a relentless insistence that you feel shame and guilt for his death, and instead walk into the inspiration and freedom of his living? Could you embrace the way of the Dove? I think I could. I do indeed.

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is an alt.minister, writer, mother and American expat in Denmark. You can find her at Magpie Girl, friend her at Facebook, or follow her work on Twitter.

Next Week: Jesus, Joseph and the Power of Myth: alternative way of understanding our stories.

Related links on atonement theory:

Maggi Dawn’s nuanced approach to the mystery of atonement theories in Pierced for Our Transgressions.
“There’s a lot to be said for holding different theories together—they aren’t mutually exclusive, but can balance each other out and offer a richer understanding held together than by choosing one as pre-eminent over all the rest.”

Giles Fraser’s on cast outs and the cross in The Merciful Crucifixion.
“’I desire mercy not sacrifice,’ Jesus insists, going on to side with the scapegoats themselves. The Gospel is clear. I am with the hunchbacks. I am with the one cast out.”

PamBG’s bibliography of resources on atonement (non-violent theories and otherwise.)

This is my first Easter with Twitter, and I must admit I feel a bit OD'ed on the religious greetings my tweets have been sending. I got a lot of "Jesus died for your sins" type messages, and more than few tweets about "suffering with Christ." I know most of these are from very sincere people—many of whom I know and like--and who are experiencing something soulful and real. But for some reason it just beat me down.

In the past I've been very involved in Lent, Easter, and all it entails. I've worn ashes. I've spent many a Good Friday being deeply moved by Tenebrae services. I've fasted and kept vigil through the long wait of Holy Saturday. And, I have danced my ass off at celebrative Easter morning services. (If you've never sung  Fat Boy Slim's "Praise You" with 200 jubilant souls on Easter morning, you are missing out!)

But this year, when Good Friday rolled around all I wanted to do was sit in the Spring sunshine, playing Beatles songs on my guitar, drinking påskebryg, and smoking cloves. Every time I saw our Easter tree, now with it's branches stripped bare, all I could think was something like this:

“You know what? Jesus did not die for my sins. He died because his message of equity, justice, and charity clashed with the political and religious leaders of his time. He died because he was teaching people things that threatened the power of the institutions. He died because he lived in a time and a place where insurrectionists were nailed to a cross. It was terribly sad--bloody and raw and awful--but it had nothing to do with the consequences of my actions.”

I recognize, that sitting there on my sunny balcony with a beer in my hand, I was having a little bit of an adolescent snit. I knew my inner monologue was saucy, unbalanced, and not entirely fair. But damnit, that's where I was, and that's where I would be. And underneath it all, I knew there was something deeper. Something about redefining the story of the cross and the resurrection.  Something about finding a way for this truth-bearing-myth, which was rooted deep in my soul, to continue to guide and inform my living. Something about finding a method of relating to this key season with honesty and integrity.

Are you in a similar place? Are you out there on Easter Sunday kind of dreading church? Or maybe you've skipped it all together in lieu of beer and barbeque? Are you a little bit pissy and a little bit sad that Easter is not working for you like it once did? Would you like to find a way to keep this story on your shelf without damaging your soul?

I think you are. And I think there's away we can do this. It has to do with myth and meaning. It has to do with finding away around the violence. It has to do with spreading all the pieces out on a big, bright picnic blanket and finding a new way to put them all back together. We can do this--you, and I, and the giant pool of wisdom that surrounds us. So let's try. This Eastertide, in these weeks following the big event, let's explore. Let's ask questions. Let's see if we can find out what the resurrection might mean to a little group of malcontents, sitting on the balcony blowing smoke rings to the sun. I’ll meet you with my guitar. You bring the beer.

Next Week: Your Kindergartener Didn't Kill Jesus and Neither Did You: More thoughts on non-violent atonement.

Related Posts from Fellow Malcontents:
A Little Light Insurrection by Tess and Anchors and Masts:
“Whoever he was, Christ's life was an act of rebellion.”

Roxanne at Tinkerbell's Tea Party on Good Friday Contemplation:
“The Cross casts a dim shadow on this day....When I find myself in the shadow of an object, I know that light shines beyond this object. If the object had any degree of translucence, the light would shine through it, diminishing the shadow.”

Valeria Tarico's interview with Dr. Tony Nugent on Huffington Post:
(Nugent) “Well, many Christian theologians see the crucifixion and resurrection as a spiritual story rather than a literal one--a story about hope beyond despair, redemption and new life. But they are not the ones who get the media attention.”

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is an alt-minister, mom, and writer blogging at Magpie Girl, and now at Food Hero and Twitter .