By: Samantha Greene
Updated: Feb. 19, 2021
Originally Published: Feb. 19, 2021
As children, we sat enthralled as our teacher recounted tales of the Virgin Mary’s alleged appearances in the Balkans, warning us about the impending apocalypse and the dire need for salvation through countless Rosaries. This wasn’t your standard Baptist “eventually you’ll face consequences” talk; it was a full-blown, fire-and-brimstone warning that “Jesus might arrive any day now, and it will be terrifying.” Stories of darkness lasting three days filled our heads, suggesting we should barricade ourselves indoors, lest we perish from fear at the horrors outside. The only source of light? Holy candles. Hell was poised to unleash its fury.
This intense narrative differed from the tales spun by our Catholic school teachers, who claimed that “The Exorcist” was based on truth; that demons existed and that every diocese had a designated exorcist. They even shared anecdotes about dining with an exorcist, hinting at the gravity of these beliefs without providing specifics.
Let’s unpack this.
On one side, we were told that Jesus loves us more than we could fathom. We were His cherished children. Yet, we were also taught that He could cast us into eternal flames at any moment. “You choose hell,” our teachers insisted, explaining that hell represented a complete separation from God. By sinning, we exercised our free will to distance ourselves from Him. So, at twelve years old, while grappling with my emerging feelings toward boys, I faced the terrifying prospect of being cast into a fiery abyss.
Did I mention that I struggled with severe anxiety?
The Lasting Effects of Fear
Long nights were spent worrying. Did we have enough holy candles? No child should lose sleep over whether they possess adequate supplies of holy candles. Research indicates that religious or spiritual beliefs can foster guilt and anxiety, especially when individuals feel they cannot meet the lofty standards set by their community. And let’s be real: how can any middle schooler adhere to the Catholic Church’s rigid sexual teachings? While I’m not claiming that the Church’s views on hell caused my anxiety disorder, they certainly exacerbated it.
Instilling the concept of hell in young children conveys a troubling message: love is conditional. The very entity that created and cherishes them will also destroy them if they fail to adhere to divine expectations. This notion is a significant psychological burden for a child. It suggests that love is only available if they conform to specific behaviors.
If they don’t follow the rules, love is withdrawn, and the threats of hell loom large. If such dynamics are evident on a cosmic scale, how can we expect children not to internalize similar patterns in their personal relationships? My upbringing mirrored this pattern: my parents also withdrew their affection when I fell short of their expectations.
Carrying These Beliefs into Adulthood
My fear of hell led to a familiar pattern among Catholic teens in college: engage in risky behavior, panic, and anticipate divine punishment. In my case, as I distanced myself from church, that fear manifested in concerns over unintended pregnancy. Despite practicing safe sex, I believed, each time, that I must be pregnant as a form of divine retribution.
If I were to become pregnant, I’d have to consider an abortion—a notion that filled me with dread, knowing that it would be viewed as a grave sin. Years of deprogramming were necessary after my Catholic school experience. I rationalized that God, who might overlook my daily actions, would intervene when it came to such a serious matter. I felt I had no choice but to terminate the pregnancy, fearing the wrath of my family if they discovered I was expecting.
I’ll admit it: my husband and I married in the Catholic Church partly to appease my elderly grandfather, but also due to my apprehension about hell. A marriage outside the Church would have felt like a final rejection of my faith, and I was too afraid to take that leap. Although I might not have attended church regularly or confessed my sins, I couldn’t abandon that last vestige of belief—doing so felt like signing my own ticket to hell.
He converted to Catholicism. We embraced a very devout lifestyle, but I never experienced genuine joy, only an exhausting cycle of trying to meet expectations, fearing the consequences of failure. My motivation became about keeping both God and the Church’s people happy to avoid falling into hell.
Understanding the Bigger Picture
I don’t harbor resentment toward Christianity. Jesus has always seemed like a figure worthy of admiration. However, teaching children that they might face hell is deeply problematic. While I might have had preexisting anxiety, instilling fear of eternal damnation is contrary to the principles of gentle parenting. You cannot preach unconditional love while simultaneously threatening children with hellfire.
If we want our children to understand that love is inherent and unconditional, we cannot instill the belief that hell awaits those who stray. This mindset leads to a lack of empathy: we might rationalize that the poor are responsible for their plight, or that drug addicts deserve punishment for their choices. It teaches children to prioritize justice over mercy, a mindset I refuse to endorse.
That’s not the kind of child I want to raise.