The Darkness of Holy Saturday
This morning I took a walk in my neighborhood Buddhist monastery and did some reflecting on the first chapter of Robyn Henderson-Espinoza’s book ‘Activist Theology.’ The first chapter is called ‘The Darkness of Holy Saturday.’
“...I confess that I rest in Holy Saturday and the profound place of not knowing. And, since I am conceptually sitting in Holy Saturday, I am aware of the rupture that has passed that animates our entire Christian narrative-the rupture of Good Friday and the story of the death of the brown Palestinian Jew who hung on a cross, a State-sanctioned murder. In many respects, the recent political issues and violence of Palestine, racial profiling here in the United States, and countless other ruptures place us in the depth of unknowing. This often requires a deep commitment to resisting the logic of dominance and a critical turn to resilience. Yet, finding the resources to engage the politics and practices of resilience in what I have been calling “the tyranny of the now’ demands a radical departure from the systems that keep us all with a boot on our neck to engage in the work of collective liberation, so that all of our people can be free.” (Henderson-Espinoza, 14)
Three questions they ask in their Call to Action at the end of the chapter:
1. How does ego snuff out your creative potential?
2. What keeps you from doing the deeply internal work of divesting from your own privilege?
3. Are you grounded in a breath practice?
Reflecting on these questions brings me into a relationality with the root of my own being. I agree with Dr Robyn’s words when they write “This work is deeply relational and requires a deep commitment to loving oneself, so that the conditions for radical social change can take root in one’s own story of becoming human again. This work often begins with returning to one’s roots, understanding fully where one comes from, and charting a path to(ward) liberation of both self and other.” (25) Loving myself has been a very difficult and painful journey with the toxic theology of self denial/hatred that I was raised with. I was told over and over that I was a selfish and self centered person as a child. I was taught that my redemption would come in the denial of myself in surrender to Christ and the authority of the church. I gravitated towards a sadistic, self denying form of Christianity where I could escape the guilt of mere existence. I surrendered my power and threw myself into the work and teachings of the church, hoping for redemption.
I believed that I was at my core, bad. Bad for having a body and desires and ambition and ego. So, I had a practice of surrendering my desires and denying my body. For example, I knew that I was gay but I believed that my redemption was found in denying my flesh, my pleasure, my desire, my ego. Rupture happened in my life when the desires of my flesh overcame my will. Choosing self denial for so many years left me hollow, angry, hurt, confused and betrayed. Coming out for me was an EXPLOSION of queer desire. It was messy and painful as hell. It was a rupture to use Henderson-Espinoza’s imagery. A Good Friday.
“Resurrection is the deep reparative work of becoming whole in the face of existential fragmentation that perpetuates the deep brokenness of our collective human experience.” (24)
I have been living in the unknowing, the darkness of Holy Saturday ever since. The question of what is keeping me from divesting from my own privilege is connected to the question of ego. The reparative work of becoming whole has meant deconditioning the toxic belief I am somehow fundamentally bad. That I am a sinner at my core. I believe this to be the root of my anxiety disorder, that holds me outside of relationality.
I resurrect in the embracing of my desire; in the saying yes to my body, to my pleasure, to my gender expression. Naming the abuse that I experienced inside of Christianity and learning how to counter this narrative with body and sexual positivity is a part of my resurrection. I resurrect when I face my anxieties and show up in community and learn to extend grace to my own self. I resurrect when I step into my own power and proclaim that the desires of my body are in fact HOLY. When I momentarily convince myself that my desires are good and that I am worthy of pleasure. I resurrect when I forgive myself for the ways that my own rupture has impacted the lives of my children. As a dance artist and teacher, I resurrect when I slow the fuck down, disrupt my orientation towards dominance of the body and initiate movement from the body, in honor of the body. Which brings me to breath.
Breathe, like the Holy Spirit.
Studying practices of counter hegemony in the body, in my body brings me into greater relationality with the Breath of life. Soma, the living body. Somewhere in the examining of the Christian dominance inside of me, I found somatics. Slowing down and dropping into my body has given me the space to come home to myself. This too is resurrection. I understand the body as the site of Christian dominance. The reparative work of becoming is situated in the body, for me. The body and also the Body: the corporeal body, the Body of Christ, the collective body that is working towards liberation. I can do the deeply internal work of divesting from my own privilege once I have first done the reparative work of accepting my own worth and coming out of hiding from shame. Only then will I be able to step into accountability for my privilege.
Perhaps my resilience is therefore found in my breath.
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