The existence of thematic overlaps between childhood experience and the religious myths we considered suggests that several distinct yet related forms of causal influence may be at play. To start with, it appears that during the formative periods of these religions, cultural patterns of childhood trauma were, so to speak, translated into religious myth and then projected, or schematically mapped, onto the cosmos. Examples given in the discussion of Christianity indicate that, during the translation process, patterns of trauma can function as an organizing principle, providing a flexible, thematic template for the modification, combination, and recontextualization of pre-existing religious and cultural elements. Thinking in terms of a flexible organizing principle helps us to make sense of profound underlying similarities in these religious systems while also recognizing that, in more superficial respects, the systems are very different—as between Abrahamic conceptions of an overtly anthropomorphic Judge and Eastern conceptions of a seemingly natural law of automatic retribution.
Along with the mythic translation and mapping of the trauma, we observed in some of the myths a tendency for the narrative to deviate in a predictable manner from the pattern of the actual trauma. This deviation acts to ameliorate the underlying trauma by adding a happy ending. Such endings are evident especially in the early Greco-Roman myths about abandoned children, in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, and in the Abrahamic myths about the sacrificial sons (Isaac—or Ishmael—and Jesus). This happy ending can readily be understood as a palliation, distraction, or psychological defense against the pain of the original trauma—an attempt to undo in myth and symbol what cannot be undone in reality.
Finally, there is reason to suspect that childhood themes in religious myths can produce powerful psychological resonances in the minds of believers and potential converts. These resonances may be primarily emotional—such as fears and longings, as well as tremendous joy in response to narrative amelioration; cognitive—for example, when myths that otherwise seem almost literally unbelievable are imbued with verisimilitude and may even be perceived as True in an absolute, transcendent, metaphysical sense; and behavioral—for example, when rituals or sacraments seem to function as post-traumatic behavioral repetitions. These emotional, cognitive, and behavioral resonances overlap, interact, and mutually support each other, forming an integrated pattern that recapitulates the painful realities of childhood. To the extent that traumatizing childrearing practices have persisted beyond the formative stage of a religion—and in all cases considered here they have—such overlapping resonances can go far in explaining why the religion has spread and retained popularity in the culture.
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The infant’s knowledge of his situation is inchoate but intense. He does not need speech or reason to grasp that he is dependent and vulnerable; his first helpless cries of hunger or fear make that clear. As the infant grows into toddlerhood and beyond, his dependency and vulnerability persist to a great extent, while his developing powers of mind let the child understand with increasing precision just how tenuous his position in the universe is. No matter which religious beliefs they are later taught, all young children know, implicitly and at the deepest level, that their existence depends, moment by moment, on the grace and mercy of a wholly superior power—that of adults, especially parents. This knowledge, gained directly and experientially, is the child’s first and most profound religious education.
