Words are Medicine

Freed by Shame

There is an old story about a young man who was known in his town for being criminally corrupt and selfish, although he made a big show of piety, attending his church in his finest clothing, sitting in the front, and kissing the hand of the priest.

He decided to go to confession and to make sure everyone knew he was going. He went as a pretense and had no desire whatsoever to either be forgiven or change his ways. He thought, “I can just go, tell him everything, he’ll forgive me, then I can do what I want again.”

Somehow, the priest sensed the young man’s heart and when the man asked, “Father, forgive me,” the priest answered: “You will be forgiven when you fill this bucket,” and handed him a milking pail.
The man looked at it, shrugged, and figured, “What’s the big deal? I can fill that and come back in 5 minutes. Then I’ll be forgiven and that’ll be that.”

So he went to the town well and began pouring water in it. When he picked it up to carry it off, it was empty.

Confused, but not deterred, he went to his own home and pumped water into it until it was overflowing. When he went to lift it, it was empty.

Now as angry and determined as he was originally confounded, he went from town to town filling up the bucket. And every time he lifted it to bring it back to the priest, it was empty. He became enraged and swore he wouldn’t stop until he filled it. He struggled for a year until he was forlorn, filthy and broke.
Finally, having failed utterly, he returned to the priest, holding the empty bucket. “I am so ashamed. I don’t know what to say. I tried to fill it but it’s empty. I failed. I’m so sorry.” Whereupon two tears fell from his eyes and into the bucket.

The priest took the bucket from him. “It is filled now. You are forgiven.” And he showed the young man the bucket, filled to the brim.

We are so sensitive in this country about shame as if it were the worst thing anyone could ever feel. But after twenty five years of faith-based counseling people from all walks of life—from veterans to politicians, housewives to addicted prostitutes—I have observed that there are two types of shame. There is what psychotherapists call “toxic shame.” This is the shame that is foisted upon a person by hurt, pain and trauma. It is undeserved and undermines their health and wellbeing. But there is another kind. And it seems to me that it usually precedes a huge breakthrough in therapy. If there is nothing to regret, to be ashamed of, if we have no complicity or responsibility at all in the things that go wrong for us, then, de facto, there is nothing for us to change and no way out. Sometimes, an appropriate shame for misdeeds, for hurts perpetrated in moments of selfishness, is the beginning of healing and sets us free.

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