YAWN

I've been teaching the fifth iteration of my OUTWIT: Biblical Stories of Regular People Taking Down Tyrants this spring, with a rockstar group of participants.

This week, we got to the story of the wise men, who show up in Jerusalem and walk into the throne room of Herod, the epitome of an insecure middle manager, stuck between Rome and the Jewish population of Judea. Herod is a fascinating character study - he’s violent, temperamental, bent on amassing power and riches, constantly trying to impress the people who are richer and more powerful than him with fancy, expensive gifts, always working to recruit the religious leadership to his side, and absolutely terrified - shaking in his boots - by the idea introduced to him by the visiting magi from far away of some new upstart baby king.

Years ago, when I taught this story to a bunch of my favorite middle schoolers, I asked them how they thought Herod felt when the wise men showed up and asked him where they could find the new king they'd learned about from the stars. Those kids didn't hesitate a single second: they broke out in a chorus of grumpy, scowl-y, stomping and growling: “GRRRRR! ARRRGH! HARRUMPH!”

I've never forgotten that image of an irritated tyrant, because it looked and felt exactly like a toddler having a temper tantrum. And it fits perfectly with the immature, insecure picture the gospel writers give us of this guy who got his job as provincial king at 25 because his daddy cozied up to the political emperors of the day.

All tyrants are boring, y'all. They all follow the same playbook. They only have one goal: selfish accumulation. And they only have one move for achieving it: violent chaos. Tyrants are not creative. They do not act in interesting or surprising or generative ways. Nothing they do opens up new possibilities for human thriving or cosmic creation. Tyrants are not worth our time, energy or attention.

This week, when I went on that tyrants-are-boring rant in our class, one woman responded that maybe our reaction to tyrants - then and now - could just be one gigantic YAWN. Yawning, she said, is a physiological tool for resetting our immune systems. It interrupts whatever is going on and forces us to shift our attention. Yawning changes our posture and our chemistry; it literally cools our brains, increases our alertness and straightens our spine. A yawn is an invitation for us to reorient ourselves both physically and mentally.

AND: yawning is also a subtle, effective, involuntary and thus not exactly offensive means of telling the person who is requesting our attention that they are not succeeding in retaining it. It's like a physiological middle finger to the tyrant in the room. It's really hard to argue with a yawn. What?! I didn't say a word!

The challenge of the yawn as a tool of resisting tyrants, though, is that we have to follow through on our body’s cue. We have to actually avert our eyes and shift our attention to something more interesting, more generative, more filled with possibility for flourishing. If we choose to yawn in the face of the tyrant, then we also have to actually turn our back and walk away, refusing to cede our time, energy and focus to their absurd, attention-seeking antics even one second longer.

That might be a challenge. But I suspect that once we start looking around for more interesting people, situations and dynamics, one we train our eyes to find the places where things are growing, where people are building new things and nurturing justice, mercy and joy, we’ll lose any taste for tyranny that we ever had. All tyrants are boring. But the work of resisting tyranny is infinitely interesting, surprising, diverse, creative, beautiful, generative, rich and captivating.

You know the other thing about yawning? It is famously contagious among humans. We just can't help ourselves: when we see someone else yawning, we start doing it, too. That's powerful.

I'm practicing my yawn as a tool of resistance this week, and simultaneously training my attention on the places where surprising, creative, fascinating stuff is growing. Join me?