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Existential Psychotherapy - Reflections From A Christian Perspective
Existential Psychotherapy - Reflections From A Christian Perspective
Existential Psychotherapy - Reflections From A Christian Perspective
Abstract
One of the major difficulties in advocating a positive approach to therapeutic work is that
most candidates for psychotherapy are preoccupied with the negative or painful aspects of
their lives. However, it is argued that positive clinical practice can be derived from the
therapist recognizing a shared human predicament with the client, a recognition which
requires a degree of honesty on the part of the therapist. This frank self-reflection is much
in evidence in the writings of the existential atheists, largely due to their assertion that
there is no observing deity who may judge the faults and weaknesses of human beings.
Believers in a theistic God, however, may be more cautious in acknowledging sources
of shame or guilt in themselves out of fear of divine disapproval. From a Christian
perspective, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ justify human existence
and provide evidence of Gods love. Acceptance of this can allow the Christian
psychotherapist to be cognizant of potential shortcomings and thereby experience a strong
identification with the challenges of living presented by the client. This can enable a
positive and non-pathologizing relationship with clients of any religious or ideological
persuasion.
Introduction
The historical and conceptual connections between existential philosophy and
Christianity are well documented (e.g., Macquarrie, 1972). Establishing a link
between existential psychotherapy and the recent development of positive
psychology, however, is rather more difficult (see Bretherton & rner, 2003,
2004). But, if a positive existential psychotherapy is difficult to conceptualize,
a positive Christian existential psychotherapy is doubly so. The problem does not
so much lie in the coalescence of Christianity with existentialism mentioned
above, but rather lies in the combination of these with positive psychology,
Correspondence: Roger Bretherton, Department of Psychological Services, Adult Psychology
Speciality, Baverstock House, St Annes Road, Lincoln LN2 5RA, UK. E-mail: roger.
bretherton@lpt.nhs.uk
ISSN 1367-4676 print/ISSN 1469-9737 online 2006 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/13694670600615490
It represents a first attempt to put into words the underlying assumptions of the
approach that I have been using daily with clients, and thrashed out in reading
and conversation with colleagues, but have not yet stated explicitly. This is
a beginning, therefore, rather than a conclusion; a starting-point to be developed
and revised, rather than an absolute statement of policy.
Dissatisfaction means that they are not where they would like to be;
something feels wrong. This something wrong can manifest itself in specific
symptoms (obsessions and compulsions, depression, anger, binge eating,
Given that most of my clients arrive in my office having already formed a rather
depraved view of themselves, it is a great and convenient temptation to act as
a spectator by placing them in an entirely separable class of humanity to myself.
It is easier to relegate the man who collapses with panic in my office, or the woman
who screams in my face about my uncaring attitude, to an inert category of mental
illness, than endure the discomfort of attempting to understand and identify with
them. As Foucault (1961) so brilliantly demonstrated, we distance ourselves from
the madness of others so as not to be confronted by the madness that resides in our
own being. Leaping to the conclusion that the person is sick allows me to erect an
invisible partition between they and I. In focusing on pathology, I prevent the
person from getting to me but equally miss the opportunity to get to the person.
I see a problem to be solved, not a person to be met.
A positive perspective to my clinical work gradually emerged in direct
proportion to my capacity to view my clients as human beings like myself.
I began to recognize in myself many of the perceived inadequacies that so
troubled them. I saw the struggles and challenges in my own marriage, the
oppressive moments of apathy and listlessness into which I occasionally plunge,
the sexual fantasies and temptations that all too frequently course though my
consciousness. A statement by May (1989), which had previously made a great
impression on me, became a reality in my experience: I have never dealt with
a counsellee in whose difficulty I did not see myself, at least potentially. Every
counsellor, theoretically, will have this same experience. It is a matter of There,
but for the grace of God, go I. There is no room for arrogance or
self-righteousness, but all the room in the world for humility, in the counselling
occupation (May, 1989, p. 57).
However, the progressive willingness to see in myself the problems of my clients
was not just a professional development; it corresponded to a much more general
period of personal upheaval. The same journey I had embarked upon in the realm
of psychology reflected wider developments in connection with my church life.
One of the dangers of belonging to any formalized religious or social group,
particularly one which experiences itself at odds with the prevailing trends of
the culture in which it exists, is what Marcel (1964) described as the spirit
of excommunication; the tendency to fall into the trap of thinking that those
who belong to your particular sub-culture are good, noble, right, and pure,
whereas those who do not belong to it are sinful, lacking, and purposefully
belligerent in their refusal to see the light and join the group.
According to Benyei (1998), it is these kinds of church dynamics that
can result in spiritual abuse or scapegoating. She describes the tendency of those
belonging to religious communities to think of their particular sect, denomination, or stream as a model of edenic perfection, and therefore the enormous
difficulty they encounter in attempting to reconcile this with the inevitable faults
And Sartre (1952) also, in his play, Lucifer and the Lord, concludes that once
one does away with an ever-present personal (and therefore evaluating) God,
one is freed to see the world in a new luminosity that previously was not possible:
I tell you God is dead. We have no witness now, I alone can see your hair and
your brow. How real you have become since he no longer exists (Sartre, 1952,
p. 170).
As long as one holds to a monotheistic understanding of the existence of God,
one understands that we stand constantly under the gaze of the almighty. Only
when the pressure of being watched and weighed up has been lifted can we begin
to find the space to form an opinion about ourselves. If God does not exist, we
can accept ourselves, because there is no higher being who may label our
weaknesses sin in any absolute sensewe simply are the way we are.
If there is a God, the question is whether he is the kind of God who will accept
us as we are and thereby allow us to accept ourselves. Will he use his formidable
abilities to intimidate us, or, in the words of Macquarrie (1978), will he be
humble, down to earth, and meet us where we are at? If there is a God, the
question becomes, what kind of God is he? On this question hangs the possibility
of a positive religious psychotherapy.
In order to reflect on ourselves, however, to see things in our lives that we may
dislike or wish to change, we need to be prepared for what we might discover.
We need to know in advance that we can accept whatever we find in ourselves
without having our sense of worth decimated. Again, Rowe (2000) describes how,
if we can accept that there is nothing wrong with us, we can rest and no longer feel
compelled to act in order to justify our existence:
We were born just being. We looked around and found the world an interesting place. Then,
adult voices began instructing us, Do this, Be that, Be good, Try harder, Arent you
ashamed? You should feel guilty. We took what these voices said inside us and lost the
ability to just be. But it can be found again. The key to this discovery is to understand that it is
not wicked to just be. (Rowe, 2000, pp. 481482)
Dorothy Rowe does not have any religious context in mind in these
descriptions; she is simply elaborating what it means to be able to live with
oneself. But what these passages have offered to me is a way of grasping the
psychological implications of accepting the Christian assertion that God has
unconditionally accepted us through Christs death. We no longer have to exert
ourselves to justify our existence because God in Christ has justified us; we can
just be. Through believing in him, we are declared good, we can return to
the childlike acceptance of ourselves described above. As a result, we need fear
no self-reflection, need not be chary about seeing our sometimes selfish or
unacceptable motivations, because we have been accepted, and therefore, in the
words of Tillich (1952), can accept acceptance.
Among certain writers, it seems customary to view the cross as Gods way
of getting us to do something against our will. Szasz (1974) refers to it as
a symbol of power designed to induce guilt and thereby produce compliance.
And Camus summed up the Christian aspiration for unity as, All together at
last, but on our knees and heads bowed. (Camus, 1957, p. 100). In other words,
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