1. The Engine of Shame

Christianity

Black and white image of a vintage steam locomotive with workers in a forest setting, showcasing early 20th-century railroad technology.

A wise friend — a man who helped me emerge from a time of considerable personal struggle — once taught me a simple lesson. In less than a minute, he handed me a gift that I have spent years only beginning to understand, integrating it into my life with agonizing slowness. It is a lesson that intellect cannot grasp or resolve, which faith only begins to illuminate: a simple principle that lies close to the very root of the human condition.

He taught me a simple distinction: the difference between guilt and shame.

While you no doubt think I am devolving into the linguistic morass of terminal psychobabble, I ask you to stick with me for a few moments. What you may discover is a key to understanding religion, terrorism, social ills such as crime and violence — and why the jerk in the next cubicle pushes your buttons so often. On the other hand, if you’re among those who believe guilt and shame are simply the tools of religion and society to restrict your freedom — that as a perfectly liberated postmodern person, you are beyond all that — well, you are probably wasting your time reading this. But most of us recognize the influence of guilt and shame in our lives — even while trying not to focus on them, as they are uncomfortable emotional topics, best avoided if possible.

There is a tendency to conflate guilt and shame, merging them into a single human response to bad behavior or personal shortcomings. Yet they are very different. Guilt is about behavior, shame about being. Let me expand on this.

Guilt is an emotional — or some would say spiritual — human response to behavior or actions that violate a respected set of rules. The rules violated may be internal or external, based either on reality and truth or distortion and error. The standards that engender guilt must be respected: that is, they must originate from a valid source of authority — parents, elders, religion, or law — or internalized into one’s mores or conscience from one or more such sources. Rules that are not respected pose no difficulty: I feel no guilt at not becoming a suicide martyr for Allah since I do not respect (i.e., recognize as valid) the teachings that promote such behavior. The response to violating respected rules is, at its heart, based on fear: fear of punishment by God or man, fear of rejection, or fear of ostracization from friends, family, or society.

Since guilt is an uncomfortable emotional state, we try to avoid or mitigate it. There are several means by which this can be accomplished, with greater or lesser efficacy. We may practice avoidance of the behavior that induces the guilt. If the laws are legitimate and based on worthwhile principles, this is a beneficial approach: if you don’t steal things, you won’t go to jail for burglary. However, avoidance may prove destructive if the rules are based on error. For example, suppose your parents or religion have taught you that all sexual activity is wrong or evil. In that case, this will prove a considerable impediment to physical intimacy and relationships in marriage.

Changing the rules may also mitigate guilt — especially if it is chronic and recurring. You may leave a religion that is highly legalistic for another less so — or for none at all; you may change your situation or environment by ignoring or not enforcing those dictates; you may seek counseling to correct perceptions about sexuality or other destructive interpersonal biases or beliefs. Or you may practice denial — justifying your behavior by creating new internal or social rules while avoiding or rationalizing the inevitable consequences of your still-errant behavior.

So guilt may be addressed by modifying behavior or changing belief systems, through choice or denial. What then about shame?

Shame — the very word makes us uneasy, striking deeply into the core of our being. Shame is not about what we do but who we are. It speaks to a deep sense of unworthiness, rejection, inadequacy, and isolation. It says we are not OK, that what we indeed are must be hidden. And this we pursue with all the energy at our disposal, throwing up an impenetrable wall to keep others out at all costs. The essence of shame is relational: it says that if you knew what I was like, you would be repulsed and reject me. The resulting isolation — real or perceived — is a devastating threat, engendering a pain so profound it approaches the unbearable.

The origins of shame are varied and not completely understood. We seem to be programmed to interpret specific words and behavior by others — especially parents and siblings in childhood — as not simply critical of our behavior but a statement of our worth. This potent force originates from parents, who mold us into social beings by their authority and supervision. While this may be especially pronounced in dysfunctional or abusive homes — alcoholism, sexual abuse, and mental illness come to mind — it occurs even in well-functioning family units and with speech and actions that are not intended as critical or demeaning but are interpreted as such. The soil of the soul is fertile ground to bring forth a tainted crop of shame, even from the seemingly benign bruises of everyday human interactions and relationships.

From the Judeo-Christian perspective, this propensity toward shame is understood as rooted in the spiritually inherited rupture of our relationship with God, manifesting itself in extreme self-centeredness and self-focus, which acts as a toxic filter, letting in the destructive while keeping out the beneficial. Having been born into a state of remoteness from God — perceived at a spiritual level as rejection by Him, though just the opposite — we are acutely sensitized to rejection by others: it fits the mold perfectly. Thus, every real or perceived hurt, criticism, or rejection confirms that we are rejected, worthless, and of no value. Our self-centered mindset ensures that even events not focused on our self-value are interpreted in ways that affirm our sense of shame — for example, the daughter who blames herself for her father’s drinking and abusiveness.

While shame lives deep below the surface — a monstrous child kept hidden from public view — its manifestations are legion, and its ability to percolate to the surface and alter our lives and behavior is formidable. The pain of shame requires a response like a hand on a hot stove, and is triggered by many means: by concerns about physical size, strength, skill, or ability; by issues of dependency or independence; by competition with others; by worries about personal attractiveness and sexuality; or when dealing with matters of personal closeness and intimacy. Thus triggered, an outward manifestation is inevitable and will generally fall into one of these areas:

Thus, the engine of shame drives a host of personally destructive and socially disruptive behaviors. If you scratch the surface of any dysfunctional personal or social problem — alcoholism, drug abuse, obesity, terrorism, religious cults, and on — you will find at its dark heart the issue of shame. At the very least, it is a common thread among such societal and personal liabilities, if not a central driving force.

So, uncomfortable though it may be, we must address this matter of shame. Our responses to its provocations are significant causes of personal agony and social crisis. However, like a schoolyard bully, once confronted face-to-face, the tyranny of shame can be broken through courage, openness, and the strength of deep relationships.