Home » Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved by Kate Bowler (Transcript)

Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved by Kate Bowler (Transcript)

Kate Bowler at TED Talks

Following is the full transcript of historian Kate Bowler’s talk titled “Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved” at TED Talk conference.

Kate Bowler – TED Talk TRANSCRIPT

There is some medical news that nobody — absolutely nobody — is prepared to hear. I certainly wasn’t.

It was three years ago that I got a call in my office with the test results of a recent scan. I was 35 and finally living the life I wanted.

I married my high school sweetheart and had finally gotten pregnant after years of infertility. And then suddenly we had a Zach, a perfect one-year-old boy/dinosaur, depending on his mood. And having a Zach suited me perfectly.

I had gotten the first job I applied for in academia, land of a thousand crushed dreams. And there I was, working at my dream job with my little baby and the man I had imported from Canada.

But a few months before, I’d started feeling pain in my stomach and had gone to every expert to find out why. No one could tell me.

And then, out of the blue, some physician’s assistant called me at work to tell me that I had stage IV cancer, and that I was going to need to come to the hospital right away.

And all I could think of to say was, “But I have a son. I can’t end. This world can’t end. It has just begun.”

And then I called my husband, and he rushed to find me and I said all the true things that I have known. I said, “I have loved you forever, I have loved you forever. I am so sorry. Please take care of our son.”

And then as I began the walk to the hospital, it crossed my mind for the first time, “Oh. How ironic.” I had just written a book called “Blessed.”

I am a historian and an expert in the idea that good things happen to good people. I research a form of Christianity nicknamed “the prosperity gospel,” for its very bold promise that God wants you to prosper. I never considered myself a follower of the prosperity gospel. I was simply an observer.

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The prosperity gospel believes that God wants to reward you if you have the right kind of faith. If you’re good and faithful, God will give you health and wealth and boundless happiness.

Life is like a boomerang: if you’re good, good things will always come back to you. Think positively. Speak positively. Nothing is impossible if you believe. I got interested in this very American theology when I was 18 or so, and by 25 I was traveling the country interviewing its celebrities.

I spent a decade talking to televangelists with spiritual guarantees for divine money. I interviewed countless megachurch pastors with spectacular hair about how they live their best lives now.

I visited with people in hospital waiting rooms and plush offices. I held hands with people in wheelchairs, praying to be cured. I earned my reputation as destroyer of family vacations for always insisting on being dropped off at the fanciest megachurch in town.

If there was a river running through the sanctuary, an eagle flying freely in the auditorium, or an enormous spinning golden globe, I was there.

When I first started studying this, the whole idea of being “blessed” wasn’t what it is today. It was not, like it is now, an entire line of “#blessed” home goods. It was not yet a flood of “#blessed” vanity license plates and T-shirts and neon wall art.

I had no idea that “blessed” would become one of the most common cultural cliches, one of the most used hashtags on Instagram, to celebrate barely their bikini shots, as if to say, “I am so blessed. Thank you, Jesus, for this body.”

I had not yet fully grasped the way that the prosperity gospel had become the great civil religion, offering another transcendent account of the core of the American Dream.

Rather than worshipping the founding of America itself, the prosperity gospel worshipped Americans. It deifies and ritualizes their hungers, their hard work and moral fiber.

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Americans believe in a gospel of optimism, and they are their own proof. But despite telling myself, “I’m just studying this stuff, I’m nothing like them,” when I got my diagnosis, I suddenly understood how deeply invested I was in my own Horatio Alger theology.

If you live in this culture, whether you are religious or not, it is extremely difficult to avoid falling into the trap of believing that virtue and success go hand in hand.

The more I stared down my diagnosis, the more I recognized that I had my own quiet version of the idea that good things happen to good people. Aren’t I good? Aren’t I special somehow? I have committed zero homicides to date.

SO WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?

I wanted God to make me good and to reward my faith with just a few shining awards along the way. OK, like, a lot of shining awards.

I believed that hardships were only detours on what I was certain would be my long, long life. As is this case with many of us, it’s a mindset that served me well.

The gospel of success drove me to achieve, to dream big, to abandon fear. It was a mindset that served me well until it didn’t, until I was confronted with something I couldn’t manage my way out of; until I found myself saying into the phone, “But I have a son,” because it was all I could think of to say.

That was the most difficult moment to accept: the phone call, the walk to the hospital, when I realized that my own personal prosperity gospel had failed me. Anything I thought was good or special about me could not save me — my hard work, my personality, my humor, my perspective.

I had to face the fact that my life is built with paper walls, and so is everyone else’s. It is a hard thought to accept that we are all a breath away from a problem that could destroy something irreplaceable or alter our lives completely.

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We know that in life there are befores and afters. I am asked all the time to say that I would never go back, or that I’ve gained so much in perspective. And I tell them no, before was better.

A few months after I got sick, I wrote about this and then I sent it off to an editor at the “New York Times.” In retrospect, taking one of the most vulnerable moments of your life and turning into an op-ed is not an amazing way to feel less vulnerable. I got thousands of letters and emails. I still get them every day.

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