One of my first, deep experiences with reconciliation was, and continues to be within my own body. When I was in college, I found myself with unexplained and complex digestive problems. I went from being an invincible 19-year-old, to one living at home, dependent on my parents, and difficulty eating without pain. It took three years of distress, questions and far too many medical appointments (and major surgery) to find some healing. In the meantime, I had to reconcile myself with a personal story I didn’t want.
When I struggle to be reconciled to my own story, even to my own body that can seem to wage war against itself, it’s hard to be reconciled to anything else; others, the world around me and the Divine cannot draw near when I am captive to the dis-ease within myself. Add to that power dynamics of patient-physician, sick-well, disabled-able and my own vulnerabilities can be too tender to expose. And that’s just one realm in which our wounded selves block us from real connection.
I believe in a God who chose to become human, to become enfleshed; who walked the earth, suffered, took a final breath and resurrected in the flesh, as the beginning of a renewed creation. But that resurrected body of Jesus was identified by the scars he still bore. Those scars tell a glorious story of the life in the flesh of Jesus. Those scars reconcile my own story with the redeeming story of all creation in God. And those scars reconcile my own enfleshed story within my self.
Artist Makato Fujimura speaks of the ancient and “slow” Japanese art of Kintsugi, in which the broken edges of a piece of pottery are repaired with gold. As a result, the repaired piece becomes more beautiful and precious than the original, not in spite, but because of the gold illumined scar. This is my image of reconciliation, to self, others, all of creation, and God’s-self; embracing and tending to the broken places, not that they may become invisible or forgotten, but more beautiful because of the painstaking work done to heal and make whole.
I have many scars, some visible, many not. But when I am reconciled to them and let them be seen, they tell a story of where I am healed. And my scars, like those of the risen Christ, show me where the still tender wounds, or outright disease within me, and around me, remain opportunities to bring the painstaking art of healing. It’s an invitation to bring my precious commodities to tend and repair and complete the beautiful story of remaking. The metaphorical Kintsugi that I bare in my heart and body – made beautiful by the patient healing I ascribe to God – propel me to lean into the same kind of reconciliation and healing hope in the world around me: my family, neighborhood, nation and the earth itself.
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How does this ongoing reconciling of my body, one with a personal story I didn’t want look? This reconciling embodiment has so many facets. I am a temple of the Holy Spirit, and yet I inhabit a body (cis, white, female) that represents something that has enslaved my brothers and sisters. Mine represents a body whose tears have been used to warp and distract and further hinder opportunities of justice to the marginalized. My body is kin to those who have colluded with unjust policing systems. I even have a rescue dog who is part pit bull and so between the two of us we can trigger trauma for so many. Just because I have meant no harm, doesn’t negate the fact that I carry seven generations (and more) of injustice in the DNA of those of whom I am literally made. So, reconciling embodiment, finding myself bodily in a story I didn’t want, means embracing my inherent Belovedness in a way that compels me to lean in towards the hard part of the story too. My body, this generation, is where my praxis and my theology must reconcile to walk in the way of Jesus that is may bring healing for the next seven generations.
Lin. Thank you for this. What a beautiful, intimate start to this reflection process. I’m especially struck by this line: “I had to reconcile myself with a personal story I didn’t want.” While you place this in the past tense, I do wonder if this is an ongoing “reconciling” and, if so, what that work entails? Further, I’d be curious to understand how your long practice of reconciling with your story has shaped tools within you to embody reconciliation with others.
I love the image of Kintsugi! It’s been a powerful reminder for me of the beauty in our imperfections. Thank you for sharing! I’m moved by how your internal healing has compelled you to seek reconciliation in your relationships and the world around you.
Beautiful, Lin! Thanks for sharing. I remember this season of your journey and am blessed to hear your reconciliation with it. I attempted a Kintsugi piece for a family member who went through years of crisis himself, and is now reconciling that time as well. Hugs and peace to you! There is hope for the journey!