Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver

A sin-eater is someone paid to eat a small ritualistic meal representing the sins of the deceased. By doing so, the person takes on those sins. What happens to this diner? Does s/he become a vessel containing the sins of the departed, who can now enter heaven cleansed of wrongdoing? Are the sins lodged in the body? I suppose this gruesome food passes through like any meal. I wonder because not everything we eat is evacuated. Our bodies hold onto preservatives, microplastics, heavy metals, and so on. Did (or do) sin-eaters suffer any maladies from consuming bad energy?

This article provides an excellent history about sin-eaters.

https://hauntedpalaceblog.com/2023/09/10/sin-eaters-selfless-saviours-or-the-walking-damned/

Let’s look at this ritual as a metaphor for these modern times. How do we take on others’ suffering at our own expense? As a Reiki Master / Teacher, I warned my students not to allow diseased energy into their bodies. Healing should transmute (transform) anything not of the light (love) into the light. Unloving energy should not be stored in the healer’s body, where it can create disease. I was concerned because I had seen a documentary about traditional healers who took in their clients’ maladies to relieve the suffering, but then the healers suffered in turn.

“Sin-eating” can happen in family dynamics. Family members who are empathic may not realize that they are eating the family’s problems in order to eliminate them to smooth things over. I felt psychically attached to my parents, complying with what I thought was the usual parent-child relationship. My parents suffered abandonment issues. Because I wanted to alleviate their suffering, I made myself emotionally available to them. I wasn’t just doing the dishes. I cleansed their souls with my unconditional love and people-pleasing behavior, the “selfless savior.”

Offering love and support is good, but I realize now that I took in that suffering. I didn’t know how to set boundaries and spare my body from ingesting and storing their trauma. I had to learn that setting boundaries is a crucial part of self-care and of love for others.

Without boundaries, I found that I was a parrot for my parents’ victimhood. I realized that I was trying to eliminate that suffering from my body by feeding it to others as a way to gain love and sympathy. Repressing the pain only contributed to anxiety, impatience, and anger. To heal, I had to protect myself from my codependent urges. I had to set boundaries, a practice my parents were unable to teach me.

Could “sin-eating” contribute to the cycle of abuse we see today? My husband and I are aware that we each can slip into unhealthy communication patterns unconsciously learned from our parents. The same patterns they followed from their parents and their parents from their ancestors. My husband once said,

I won’t act like my father, if you don’t act like your mother.

Although we want to respect each other’s unique personalities, how much of our behavior is distinctive from the family group? If it is, someone is set apart as a “black sheep”. The pressure to conform is too great. We make excuses for a parent’s bad behavior. “Oh, his dad was that way…” It’s as though no one can change because doing so may incur exile.

Helping is good until it becomes the shadow. My closeness to my parents allowed me to take on their sorrows and helplessness too fully. This can be seen as a form of sin-eating. I believe my anxiety and depression is partly attributed to my codependence on my parents, who were not aware that they were teaching me unhealthy coping strategies. Just like the person hired to eat a small meal representing the deceased’s sins was paid a pittance, my sin-eating was transactional. I received praise and later curfews than my siblings.

I’m grateful I’ve gained insights that have helped me overcome emotional distress. I can’t blame my parents. I’m responsible for how I chose to interact. Granted, as a child I was unaware, but now I understand the inner workings of relationships. The following poem is about familial sin-eating.


Thanksgrieving Dinner

Miseria serves up wounds,
her history of harm.
Soups made from tears.
Crumbs of lumpy cakes. Breads
that never rose. Casseroles tossed out
by the ungrateful. Love, she calls it, served
with wincing knives slicing
her stories of suffering. Heaps of
angry meat. We savor the slaughter.
A heavy meal fed to the chicks,
our mouths forced open wide
to the legacy of raw organs.
Cow tongue is tough on the teeth.
This is my body. Take. Eat.
Remember me.

© Barbara Leonhard