From Martyrdom to Mutuality
As an Asian-American woman raised in the evangelical Christian tradition, I have been culturally and religiously conditioned to be a martyr. I received praise when I sacrificed my time, energy, and wellbeing for the people around me. My bend toward martyrdom was reinforced (I thought) by the teachings of Jesus. A favorite Bible verse was John 15:12–13, “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
As a justice-oriented person and lover of people, my definition of “friend” was very expansive.
The difficult part of this orientation is that the longer you live and the larger your awareness grows, the more hurt and harm you are confronted with. It becomes clear that even the wiliest of cats doesn’t have enough lives to lay down for all the pain and suffering in the world. But that didn’t stop me from trying. I spent my early twenties exerting every ounce of life force I had to hold the tides of darkness at bay.
But at the age of twenty-five, my body gave out. Lab tests revealed that my adrenal glands were shot, and my body could no longer regulate its own hormones. I was deeply fatigued, severely depressed, and the world didn’t seem like it had gotten much better.
It was time for a new game plan.
I once heard Dr. Barbara Holmes say, “You’ve heard it said that the work of justice is not a sprint, it’s a marathon. But I suggest that the work of justice is not a sprint, and it’s not a marathon. It is a relay race. We do the work that we can do and then we pass the baton to the next generation to keep going.”
This has truly been a life-saving analogy for me. Instead of feeling responsible for every bit of pain in the world, I continually re-ground myself in these questions: What is mine to do? What is my leg of the relay race to run? How do I connect with teammates that can take the baton when I am tired? How do I learn to rest, so when it’s my turn again, I can give it all I’ve got?
In my spiritual direction practice, I work with BIPOC folks, activists, and clergy. Every day, I sit with someone who is burnt out by the state of the world and how powerless they feel in the midst of it all. I have no answers, but I often offer Dr. Holmes’s relay-race analogy, and it always brings relief.
What if Jesus’ commandment to lay down our lives for a friend is not meant to encourage martyrdom but to call us into a life of mutuality? What if the call invites us into a framework of interdependence and mutual aid?
We have to be willing to rely on each other and give ourselves permission to pass the baton when it’s time or we need to rest. Alone, we burn out. As a collective, we have limitless energy.
Hailey Mitsui is a spiritual director and a somatic practitioner. She works with queer and BIPOC people at the intersections of spirituality, identity, justice, and healing. You can learn more about her work at haileymitsui.com and on her Instagram @haileymitsui.