Dark Devotional: Baptism in the Crapper

Dark Devotional: Baptism in the Crapper January 8, 2017

toby2

My parish has persevered for over a century, resisting many of the trends that reduced the religious experience from the quest for transcendence to something a little more relevant, a little bit folksy, perhaps even tacky, and tackiness only ceases to be a sin when certain aesthetes critique the religious practices of apparently lesser souls. Both the interior and exterior of our parish are monuments to Tridentine beauty, and the choir doesn’t sing “Mary, Did You Know?” at Christmas time anymore thanks to the liturgical guidance of the last two pastors.

Still, we own a secret shame. Somewhere along the way, whether for the sake of utility and creature comfort or compromise with modern church design, the baptismal font on the left side of the narthex was replaced with a restroom. I imagine there are longtime parishioners, once infants dressed in white and baptized in this spot, who answer nature’s call and sit on the toilet below the stained glass image of Jesus being baptized by John in the Jordan River, and if they are anything like me, they reflect on how much of their crap Jesus has had to wade through just to get them to heaven.

I realize this line of thinking about defecation and the spiritual life is both sketchy and unoriginal. My contemporaries may recall the Golgothan shit demon from Kevin Smith’s Dogma (1999), but I’m not wanting to court the wrath of the Catholic League. I’m referring to someone who was definitely more vulgar and perhaps even more heretical than Kevin Smith, none other than Martin Luther, who once had an argument with the devil while sitting on the toilet and proclaimed, “I am cleansing my bowels and worshipping God Almighty; You deserve what descends and God what ascends.”

toby1Golgothan shit demon, from Dogma

The father of the Reformation claimed to have experienced a number of spiritual revelations on the toilet, and he had a bizarre predilection for using feces. This use included the metaphorical, teaching that justification was imputed to Christians like snow covering dung and thus denying the transformative power of God’s grace to truly make us new creations, but it extended to the literal, using opposing religious tracts as toilet paper which would be sent back to the authors.

Luther’s shitty behavior even got the better of St. Thomas More. More desired to “throw back into your paternity’s shitty mouth, truly the shit-pool of all shit, all the muck and shit which your damnable rottenness has vomited up, and to empty out all the sewers and privies onto your crown divested of the dignity of the priestly crown.” More, the patron saint of statesmen, would also write that someone should “shit into (Luther’s) mouth,” that Luther “farts anathema,” and was a “shit-demon.” Perhaps it’s not a coincidence that Golgothan creator Kevin Smith is a fan of the More biopic A Man for All Seasons (1966), although the film version of the martyred saint is quite sanitized.

But enough about the crappy relationship between Catholics and Protestants. Today is the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, and I’m writing a dark devotional inspired by the juxtaposition of a lovely stained glass image above a commode that replaced a baptismal font. This is not the language of polite pieties; indeed, it’s difficult to talk about. We Catholics believe man is deprived rather than depraved as a result of original sin, that the image of God has not been erased, and that concupiscence is not a sin. We are the new creation of grace. We profess Christian hope in its fullness. But then we consider our sins and how we have been sinned against by our coreligionists. Martin Luther once exclaimed, “I am ripe shit, so is the world a great wide asshole; eventually we will part.” What sick pilgrim hasn’t despaired with similar world weariness, church weariness even, and above all, self loathing?

When Johnny Cash covered Nine Inch Nails’s epic ballad of regret “Hurt”, he effectively cleaned up Trent Reznor’s lyrics. Reznor wrote, “I wear this crown of shit upon my liar’s chair,” and Cash changed the word “shit” to “thorns.” I don’t think Cash was pandering to an amen choir of goody two shoes whose virgin ears needed protecting. The shit was still explicit if unspoken in the rest of Reznor’s lyrics, but with this change of one word, the song spoke a profound truth about our humanity being wrapped up in Christ’s passion. The late Father Benedict Groeschel in his meditations on the Rosary identified Christ’s crowning with thorns as his identification with all of our anxieties and mental maladies. New creatures that we are, we nevertheless hurt ourselves by retaining our crown of thorns, our crown of shit, our sense of being unlovable and irredeemable. (N.B. Neither Groeschel nor I nor any spiritually balanced person nor any somewhat rational Sick Pilgrim believes Christ’s passion “did it all” in regards to treating mental illness. The prosperity gospel moves from being theologically illiterate to being poisonous in this case. Please keep taking your meds and seeing your therapist.)

“Hurt” ends with an impossible wish of starting again a million miles away where the singer might keep himself. Baptism is our new start, our initiation into the divine life of the Trinity, where we find theological virtues and spiritual gifts, where we begin to belong to Christ forever. All of that and more is happening this side of kingdom come. But how will we ever learn to live like this? One of the overlapping story arcs in P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia (1999) may give us a clue.

Officer Jim Kurring, portrayed by John C. Reilly, is a divorcée, a bumbling cop who has lost his gun, and apparently a Catholic (he crosses himself when he prays). Claudia Gator (Melora Walters) suffers from the trauma of childhood sexual abuse and trades sex for drugs. Jim is sent to check on Claudia because her loud music is disturbing the neighbors, and instead of finding anything suspicious, he awkwardly flirts with her and gets a date.

During the date, Claudia proposes complete honesty as the foundation of their relationship, saying “I’ll tell you everything and you tell me everything and maybe we can get through all the piss, shit and lies that kill other people.” Jim’s initial shock at Claudia’s vulgarity and polite apology for the discomfort he caused prompts Claudia to retreat from the table. She comes back, thinking he’s got it all together and tries to prepare him for her messy self-revelation when Jim confesses losing his gun and all of his insecurities. They kiss, and she offers him these heartbreaking words, “Now that I’ve met you, would you object to never seeing me again?”

How often is this our attitude toward Christ who bends down towards us in love when the moment demands our confession. Jim, the poor imitator of Christ that he is, rises to the occasion, seeking out Claudia at the end of the film, reminding her she is good and beautiful, and that he won’t stand for her self hatred.

He says, “You want to be with me, then be with me.”

The film ends with Claudia smiling into the camera with all of the radiance of a person who has been transformed by love. Sure, she may stumble, and Jim habitually stumbles. So do you and I, but be assured there’s grace that fills our every defect. If you’re struggling with the promises of your baptism, confess it. Let Jesus reveal his love and remind you who you are.

Toby D’Anna is a Louisiana native and former nondenominational charismatic who entered the Catholic Church in 1999. He and his wife Emily live in Tacoma, Washington. He teaches middle school English, assists in his parish’s RCIA program, and is a member of Communion and Liberation, a lay ecclesial movement within the Catholic Church.


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