Can you ask a friend for help when you think you’re supposed to have the answer?
Would you ask a new acquaintance to go grab a meal or some ice cream together?
Are you willing to seek aid from a new colleague on a critical project?
Would you admit to your spouse you feared some aspect of life?
Are you willing to share your faith on a controversial topic with one of a different faith?
Realizing you may be short on skills, would you ask someone of a team to become a member? Would you perform a song or recite a poem you wrote in public?
Are you willing to take a risk to leave a comfortable job to apply for a job you dreamed of working?
Have we become obsessed with being perfect, flawless in beauty, wealth, fame, power?
In working with teens, I know they could list several vulnerabilities in their lives. Yet, as adults, I know there are just as many vulnerable questions. Unfortunately, much anger seems to accompany vulnerabilities we face. As a college student, one of my favorite authors was Fr. John Powell, a Jesuit psychologist and professor at Loyola University in Chicago. He wrote a short book entitled, “Why am I afraid to tell you who I am?” It became an international best seller because I, like so many, am afraid to tell you who I am, because, if I tell you who I am, you may not like who I am and it’s all I have. We preach not to compare ourselves to the “Jones’s,” and around every corner we are compared to some standard … and more of them are coming.
Jesus was definitely not "standard." If anything, he was vulnerable! Jesus lived a life of vulnerability and for those in relationship with him, they had to be vulnerable to him.
Mary brought a pound of costly perfume made from genuine aromatic nard, with which she anointed Jesus’ feet. Then she dried his feet with her hair, and the house was filled with ointment’s fragrance. Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples protested: “Why was not this perfume sold? It could have brought 300 silver pieces, and the money have been given to the poor.” John 12: 3-6
To you who hear me, I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you and pray for those who maltreat you. When someone slaps you on one cheek, turn and give him the other; when someone takes your coat, let him have your shirt as well. Give to all who beg from you. When a man takes what is yours, do not demand it back. Do to others what you would have them do to you.” Luke 6:27-31
Vulnerability permeates genuine relationships, connections. We must allow ourselves to be “seen.” Our presence in the sacrament of reconciliation has evolved from the private telephone booth with sliding privacy screen to -- a face to face meeting with our clergy. An admission to separating ourselves from God has placed us in a more vulnerable position. Fr. Powell writes that personal vulnerability allows authentic, positive change and transformation to grow in relationships with our spouses, families, friends, colleagues … and with God! Unlike our days of youth, we have learned to use power, certitude, and meritocracy to camouflage our vulnerability withdrawing from grace - to remain unknown to us.
When I visit with former students, I find those to be most grounded have courageously risked their worthiness. Those who know love have experienced heartbreak. Those who know a place of belonging, home, work, or church have risked exclusion. Those who have built enduring friendships have risked separation.
They believe they are worthy of love … belonging … connection. Fr. Powell states “they must let go of who they thought they should be for who they are.”
What makes you vulnerable, makes you beautiful.
Are you willing to say “I love you” first?
Are you willing to risk where there are no guarantees?
Are you willing to enter a relationship that may or may not work out?
Are you willing to grow out of a job evaluation?
Have we grown uncomfortable with mystery, uncertainty in our faith ... desiring to be "right and always certain" ... desiring to crystallize the fluency of the parables?
At the core of wounded relationships lies shame, fear, and unworthiness. Jesus recognized this, inviting people to share their stories and to heal their brokenness. The gospels are filled with stories, birthplaces of joy, sharing, creativity, love. Today, one continues to read Fr. Powell's words in new publications. "You're imperfect and you're worthy of my unconditional love," actions lived by our Lord. He says to be vulnerable is to welcome spiritual awakening. The Loyola Jesuit recommends what Jesus practiced in his vulnerability. Love richly.
Practice gratitude and joy.
Pause and be in the moment.
The least vulnerable will be last and the most vulnerable will be first!
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