Butoh while certainly not associated with Christianity has had its intersections with it. First off, butoh’s co-founder, Kazuo Ohno, had always identified as a Christian. His first performance outside of Japan in 1980 even took place in Nancy, France at the Church of St. Fiacre where he performed Invitation of Jesus. Then two weeks later, he would perform the same piece in Paris at Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas Church.¹

See a short video recitation of Kazuo Ohno’s poem Invitation of Jesus here.

Yoshito, Kazuo Ohno’s son, explained how, for instance, Kazuo practiced his Christianity in butoh where expressions such as “God is great” or “Thank you” were not verbalized but instead expressed in his butoh.²

Yoshito once asked Kazuo to show him how being a Christian was related to being a butoh artist. Kazuo responded that he would embark on a pilgrimage to Bethlehem, considering it a return to his spiritual birthplace, “as if Christ is walking” (Nakamura interview). The pilgrimage culminated in the The Dead Sea in 1985, where both Kazuo and Yoshito took part. Although Tatsumi Hijikata choreographed Yoshito’s dance in this performance, it was Kazuo whom Hijikata commented on after the show, saying, “Finally, a spiritual butoh dancer came to us.”³.

Kazuo Ohno would go on to perform The Dead Sea a total of 37 times throughout the world.

See a short video recitation of Kazuo Ohno’s poem Invitation of Jesus here.

Tatsumi Hijikata, the other co-founder of butoh, infused the dance form with its darker undertones. He frequently criticized Kazuo for his belief in God. However, in a surprising revelation at Hijikata’s deathbed, to the astonishment of Yoshito, he confessed that his ultimate fear was God, and his parting words were: “In my last moments, God’s light . . .”⁴

See a short video about this here.

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Because butoh possesses an inherently otherworldly or spirit-filled quality, it has the ability to align with the Christian practice that is also otherworldly and spirit-filled. This is how it was able to align with the co-creator of butoh, Kazuo Ohno, a devoted Christian.

Kazuo Ohno, however, is not the only person to have practiced butoh within a Christian lens, but since August 2010, the Manhattan-based butoh artist Marilyn Green has led a group of butoh dancers and chorus in Christian-based butoh at a church nearby the former Twin Towers.⁶

To embody the tenants of Christianity deeply in the body lends itself to a form of Christian mysticism. What exactly do I mean by mysticism here? It’s simply a raw form of Christianity, one that foremost involves a relationship with God instead of relying too heavily on an institution. In a relationship with God, naturally, visions and insights are illuminated. That is the “mysticism” side of Christianity.

So though butoh in general is a practice of spirits (and those who are secular may call them qualia or worlds), it is important to discern that not everything that is of sprit is truly beneficial. “Spiritual” does not automatically mean benign. Butoh, throughout its history, has been more of a neutral artistic tool, not inherently related to any faith, and susceptible to misuse like any other life activity.

Commonly, butoh has been viewed as a dance of transformation where shadows or the subconscious are the material for dance. But just as “spiritual” is a neutral term, so is “transformation.” What exactly do we mean by transformation? Sometimes a transformation may simply be something allowed to fester and ferment, and not all things that ferment are wholesome. Sometimes butoh shadow work is “butoh bypassing.” Sometimes destructive behavior can be enabled under the excuse of embodied art or self-help.

Nietzsche once said the famous quote, “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.” Yet, I feel more accurately, it should also have included “or befriending monsters.” While fighting or ignoring one’s shadows can certainly turn one into the thing one is trying to fight or ignore, the case can also ring true for “befriending” shadows.

In Theokinesis, we sometimes simply have to cut things out or put them on the cross. To quote Matthew 5:30, “And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.”

Theokinesis uses butoh like a contemporary church would use a guitar. On its own, a guitar is neutral. Consider what butoh would look like after it were plunged into baptismal waters.

Butoh scholars Helena Katinkoski and Jochelle Elise Pereña proposed that paradox was one thing separating butoh from any other art form. Katinkoski claimed butoh was “a liminal art that arrives to non-dual performing by embodiment of a paradox,”⁷ and similarly, Pereña claimed “[Butoh] is a liminal art, meaning that it is part of the threshold or limen between worlds, and it is also part of both worlds – a paradox.”⁸

“Bipolar oppositionalism” coined by Arata Isozaki is what Katinkoski felt Hijikata based his butoh on such as death being life and ugly being beautiful.⁹

What are some other common paradoxes associated with butoh in general?

• Debilitated yet lively
• Obscure yet expressive
• Infantile yet genius

Curiously, scripture is teeming with paradox or what I call Christian koans, many of which intersect eloquently with butoh, especially with the common motif of vulnerability.

• Weak yet strong: We gain strength by being weak. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)
• Foolish yet wise: We are fools for Christ. (1 Corinthians 4:10)
• Dead yet resurrected: I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. (Galatians 2:20)
• Enslaved yet free: But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. (Romans 6:22)
• Infantile yet saved: Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3)

There are too many to reference that could make for great butoh embodiment. So paradox itself is a another otherworldly intersection between butoh and Christianity.

Some would suggest eliminating the butoh label entirely and framing Theokinesis as a creative free movement practice or physical theatre in the same way Min Tanaka distanced himself from the label and wanted his practice to simply be Body Weather. This is a matter of preference, considering the desire to acknowledge origins and the impact a practice has had on its current form.

Regardless, butoh stands out as an exceptionally free movement practice, arguably the most free, alongside perhaps Janet Adler’s Authentic Movement which I’ve had limited exposure to. On top of that, butoh’s use of butoh-fu (butoh notation) is an incredibly rich way in which to form a multi-faceted completely embodied dance theatre that breaks old movement patterns and inefficient habits.

Ultimately, the crucial aspect in Theokinesis is the communion of one’s body and movement with the Holy Spirit and the resulting theatre ministry that follows.

Butoh can help us go beyond a lukewarm Christianity, where we can take on an active, embodied role in our relationship with God.