Oedipus and Anxiety

“You are the curse, the corruption of the land! You are the killer of your own father and husband to your mother!”

-Tiresias to Oedipus

“I just feel like, so much of what I was taught growing up is wrong.”

I was growing impatient, but I didn’t know I was growing impatient.

I reconnected with an old friend, who I love dearly. But when he started talking about his crisis of faith I began losing my patience.

There was no good reason, I too had gone through a crisis of faith recently, and could empathize with how disorienting it was.

I started off sounding reasonable and open-minded.

“This so silly” I was thinking to myself. “The answer is so obvious.”

My insecurity was screaming at me through condescension.

I gave what I thought was a good response, but when that wasn’t good enough for him, I started feeling exasperated.

He was getting frustrated, but remained polite.

I was getting frustrated, but remained polite.

We talked about getting coffee.

We never got coffee.

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I have always loved mythology.

I remember when I was 8, I was obsessed with this picture book about the Greek gods playing a basketball game.

Or being 13 or 14 and bringing my paperback copy of Edith Hamilton’s “mythology” to Boy Scout meetings, so I could read it during down time.

(That has got to be the nerdiest sentence ever written.)

My favorite book in high school was the Odyssey, which I have revisited a few times as an adult.

I even keep a copy of Edith Hamilton’s mythology by my bedside from time to time, so I can read a myth before I go to sleep.

In short — I really love mythology.

I find myself often dissatisfied with the interpretation applied to myths. Most notably, the myth of Oedipus is laughably misread.

The most obvious reading of the myth is the one which is neglected. That reading being: the correlation between fear and fate. Or more aptly, how anxiety is its own self-fulfilling prophecy.

The myth of Oedipus is like many Greek tragedies. The oracles foretell a cursed fate, the hearers react, and the reaction fulfills the prophecy.

The oracles tell Oedipus’ parents that he will murder his father, and marry his mother. They abandon him as an infant to die, maiming him for life. He is saved by a shepherd and is ignorant of his true identity.

Years later he gets in a confrontation with a stranger and accidentally slays him, not knowing the man is his father. The nation he travels to makes him their king, and the recently widowed queen is given to him in marriage.

The grim prophecy is fulfilled in ignorance.

It was the abandonment of his parents that set the gears of fate into motion. Their fear of the prophecy lead to its fulfillment.

This is still the case.

The one who is anxious around finances, is unwilling to take risks with their money through investment, and so has their anxiety fulfilled. (Think of the servant with one talent.)

The young parent who is anxious about their baby getting sick, takes steps to make a sterile environment, thus making the baby more prone to sickness on account of their weakened immune system.

The one who is anxious about messing up their kids, is more likely to be reactive when their kids behave in ways they cannot control. (I’m guilty of this one.)

Anxiety feels like fate. You dread an outcome and take steps to avoid it, only to bring it about.

Anxiety feels like fate. You dread an outcome and take steps to avoid it, only to bring it about.

This is why church efforts to stop deconstruction or radicalization often make things worse.

The confused, or disheartened goes to their pastor for questions, only to prompt an anxious reaction.

“They are losing their faith”

“How could they think that?”

“Why can’t they just take my word for it?”

These anxious thoughts in the mind of the minister contribute to the confusion of the one seeking counsel.

The minister perceives a challenge, maybe even a threat to their perspective, and would rather minimize the concerns of the asker than to meet them with a genuinely inquisitive mind.

Non-conformity triggers reactivity. It’s human nature.

The religious adherent who falls in line, takes notes on a Sunday, and never asks questions poses no threat to the status quo.

The one who asks the tough questions, who doesn’t take pat answers, and challenges the assumptions of leadership is almost guaranteed to be viewed as “a problem child.”

The minister reacts from a place of insecurity, and the person deconstructing is pushed farther away from the Church.

The same happens for the would-be-radical. Much like the one deconstructing, the radical is also deeply confused and disheartened. Often they are passionate and burdened for the church, and see many things wrong with the world. They’re “blackpilling” and they are looking for a leader who is clued-in to what they see and is doing something about it.

Often they are met with confusion and dismissal, or worse, mockery and condescension.

Recently, I came across a video (by a creator who will remain nameless) about the current trend of traditionalist radicalization, and it perfectly illustrated this response.

This path of radicalization was not met with fair dialogue. He did not seem like he was trying to really get after the genuine concerns of the prospective zealot.

Instead, a strawman was constructed, and the path oversimplified. While I cannot know his heart, the tone felt very condescending and trite, which helps no one.

In watching this video I thought “if the goal was to deradicalize young men, he has accomplished the opposite.”

There is nothing a disenfranchised young man hates more than petulant social games. Condescension and snobbery masked in virtue will not make the disgruntled zealot content. If anything these very tactics only steel the resolve of the zealot. He will dig his heels in.

To summarize, the message we often send around deconstruction and radicalization is this:

“Come as you are, so long as you are not an angsty young man.”

Loved ones react strongly to deconstructionists and zealots alike (from here on known as "wonderers" and "seekers.") Instead of realizing the wonderer is facing a huge challenge, and requires patience and an open ear; they meet the seeker with angst.

Instead of entering the deep waters of wrestling with God themself, they choose to be content with a pat answer, thus confirming the concerns of the asker.

In reality, proximity to seekers leads to greater depth. The one asking hard questions is not a threat to our faith, but a means of honing it. It is in wrestling with questions that don’t naturally occur to us, that our faith is made more resilient.

Blind belief is threatened by questions and seeking. True faith is strengthened by the same.

But our reactions both in church and family have the opposite of effect. Instead of drawing the seeker near and joining in their wrestling, we often push them away. And the force of departure for the deconstructors and radicals is one and the same: isolation.

The fear of losing the wonderer becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. And as they are pushed away from the community, they look for like-minded people who will meet them where they are. Maybe they begin attending mass, or start attending a more progressive mainline church.

It may not be that their mind is made up; they just don’t want to be alone anymore.

I have had my own faith journey, and my questioning and wondering was often extremely isolating. The pat answers I received were no longer sufficient, and most times I just felt unheard in vulnerable conversations about my experiences.

The more those feelings heightened, the stronger the compulsive pull towards a different tradition.

Whether the wonderer heads the path of progressivism or traditionalism, they are often met with understanding and open arms. Why is it the Moscow moment is so resonating with young men? Why the sudden appeal of Eastern Orthodoxy?

Because these are places, wrong or not, that a young man can “come as he is” and find the purpose he was looking for.

If we push the wonderer away, someone else will welcome them.

This same phenomena of reactivity and fate happens in the realm of accountability as well.

I’ve seen it time and time again.

The strong, biblically literate, and competent men in the congregation are pushed to the fringes, while the pliable, newly converted, or morally compromised are brought into the “inner ring.”

Why does this happen?

It is the anxiety the minister feels around conflict, that shields him from healthy challenge, leading to an epidemic of ministerial loneliness.

Without this healthy challenge that comes from a community of strong men, the minister is relegated to the petulant problems of the bottom quintile. If you avoid men that can see when you are faking it, you will be frustrated and wounded by those you can temporarily fool. (It should be noted that I am not saying women are a part of this bottom quintile. Rather I am saying that part of being a man is being a part of a community of men — and that without it men are often lost.)

This is a major contributing factor for moral failure, and spiritual abuse. Anxiety around and avoidance of conflict —> a lack of accountability —> moral failure —> a life embroiled in conflict.

The core issue we are facing in all directions is one of anxiety. We do not recognize when our system is anxious, or when we are responding from a place of fear. We do not see how our own reactivity factors into the adverse situations we often find ourselves in.

But that angst is there, and until it is addressed, we will always be defined by it.

Spiritually abusive systems resemble this as well. Driven by fear and anxiety, the reactivity of the community pushed people into increasingly strange and fringe aspects of who they are.

But we are not doomed to be ruled by the cruel fate of fear. There is another path.

Diffusing anxiety

My pastor preached extensively about self-awareness and spiritual formation on Sunday, it was extremely good.

My notebook was filled with considerations, but the most notable thing the Lord spoke to my heart was:

“Your reactions are a reflection.”

“Your reactions are a reflection.”

When I am annoyed with someone, it is often that they remind me of myself.

When I am frustrated with my toddlers for being toddlers, it has little to do with them, and much to do with me.

The time I reacted poorly to my friend’s deconstruction journey, was less about him and more about me.

I was still shaky in my faith. I was still unsure what to think about church. I was still rattled from difficult experiences.

I arrogantly acted as though I had answers, to cover up the deep fear that I didn’t.

Our negative reactions to the wonderers is rooted in a spiritual formation failure.

An inability to recognize our own inadequacies and insecurities leads to division between us.

There is no easy answer, no quick solution. But there are a few patterns we can adopt that will make us receptive to the wonderers.

1. Remind ourselves the nature of our faith.

No one came to Christ because every possible question was answered, or because they had access to all the best apologetic arguments.

Every single person that has come to Christ, has done so because the Father drew them. Every single person that has remained in Christ, has done so because even when we are faithless He remains faithful.

Our salvation, and the salvation of the wonderer is not dependent on us. We are freed from the pressure of having answers. We do not need to be the expert.

Rather, we must lovingly and graciously point to Christ. He is the Author and Finisher of our faith.

Cultivate a life of self-examination

My pastor mentioned this on Sunday, and it struck me right between the eyes.

When we find ourselves judging someone, or reacting to someone, those moments should trigger self-examination.

Just the other day, I did this as a dad.

I overreacted to something one of my sons did, and noticed that that particular behavior consistently invoked a reaction from me.

I thought about it.

I talked about it with my wife.

As I reflected, I realized my reaction had nothing to do with my son, and everything to do with me.

It had to do with fears I held onto from childhood. It had to do with challenging experiences I had faced but hadn’t rightly processed.

My frustration was a reflection of something deeply flawed in me that needed to be placed in the healing hands of Jesus.

Next time I face that trigger, I expect the feeling will still be there, but at least I will understand why it is happening and respond accordingly.

I am trying to make this rhythm of examen a part of my daily life. And I am trying to treat my own reactivity as an invitation to repentance.

2. Recognize the wonderer as an invitation.

I have mentioned this previously, but it is worth reframing: the wonderer in your life has been put there by God. They are wrestling with God, and are inviting you to do the same.

My season of wrestling significantly changed my outlook on life. For a while, it seemed like every day I was battling this pull to “return to Rome.” I was constantly talking with Trad Caths online, who made me question almost every single assumption I held as an evangelical.

The outcome has been a completely revolutionized perspective on the church and on my faith. My wondering has been a driving component in finding my voice and honing my own unique convictions.

This past Sunday, I talked to a fellow wonderer. (I am extremely thankful to be at a church where the wonderer is welcomed.)

He has been attending there for a while, and is very clearly a substantive thinker. My unique journey equipped me to respond differently than I have in the past. I was excited to hear his perspective. I was eager to share my journey.

Immediately, I could see in his face that familiar feeling; the relief of being understood.

It was stepping into my own wondering, that made me able to understand a wonderer.

They don’t want a lecture, or a wagging finger — they want an open arm.

I’m still working on this. I really struggle with reactivity. But I’m making progress. When I first started writing on the internet, I was far more polemically biting. I was writing from what I feared, not writing for Who I love. I still have my moments, comments posted then deleted. But as I diffuse my angst, I find my anger and judgement gradually dissipate. Each transgression is a reminder of my need for Grace.

3. Educate yourself

I find I am often most frustrated where I am least knowledgeable. If I am reactive on a topic, chances are I don’t feel well versed in that area.

This is another area where reactivity is an invitation, not just to examine our emotional state, but to examine our intellectual substance.

4. Pray

Learn to pray contemplatively. Learn to examine your soul by the help of the Holy Spirit. Repent of your reactivity.

We are not offended enough by our own offense; not angered by our own wrath. We are being rewarded internet points for all kinds of vice and unkindness. Our hearts must break and earnestly seek repentance for every word spoken from pride. I too am not sufficiently heart-broken over my own reactivity.

May we draw near to Christ by His grace, and learn to live not by fear, but by love.