The blessing of vulnerability --further reflections

“Go from your country, your kinsmen

and your father's house to the land
that I will show you... You are to be a blessing.”

–Genesis 12:1-2

What are the Beatitudes but a call for us to leave our place of security and comfort and go to a foreign land –a place of vulnerability, of risk and of blessing.  In Genesis, God calls Abram to leave his homeland, his kinfolk and his father’s house to go forth to a land that God will show him.  In that place and by becoming vulnerable to the curses and blessings of these foreign people, by leaving behind his security and earthly support system and putting his trust wholly in God Abram becomes a blessing. 

“Blessed are you who are poor…”

“Blessed are you who hunger…”

“Blessed are you who mourn…” –cf. Luke 6:20-21 & Mt. 5:3-11

Is this not a call to us to leave behind our homeland of culture and identity, our kinfolk of support and insurance, our father’s house of security and comfort and go to a foreign land that Jesus is showing us: a land of hunger, poverty, mourning, meekness and abuse?  Go not where we are safe and feel secure and accepted, but where we feel some risk of rejection and martyrdom even.  What greater love is there than to give up your life for another? 

But how do we live this out?  What does it mean in our daily life?  For me, there was a wonderful incident the other night that assured me that I had stumbled in the right direction.  I was volunteering at the hospital with the chaplain’s office. The chaplain tapes a list of names to his door for me. It is usually a longish list, but he will highlight the ones that he wants me to visit. Usually I just visit those highlighted names; I tend to be a rule follower. But as I was heading to the elevator I noticed a name --someone I had visited before–not highlighted. And something inside me made me feel that I should visit that patient.

I imagined that I would go up, say hello to him, perhaps offer a prayer and be on my way.  But when I got to his room on the 4^th floor, he was asleep.  So I was about to go back to my assigned list when I noticed a man who looked a little troubled in the room next door. So, I poked my head in and asked if there was anything I could do for him.  He was very hard of hearing, but he was also quite clearly agitated and needed someone (or something).  So I struggled to talk with this elderly man, but I listened as he told me that he was anxious about his daughters and confused about why he was being left at the hospital. After a while I offered to pray.  He didn’t understand at first, but as I began to pray the Our Father, he fell right in with me –as if suddenly something clicked.  A nurse arrived while we were praying and when we finished, she began her business with charts and scans, but she also began to ease his worries by reminding him why he was in the hospital. 

I left and tried the other man again. He was still asleep.  As I turned to leave and go back to my assigned names, another nurse approached me.  He wanted to know if I was the chaplain, because a patient had just died and his family needed someone.  My first reaction was a start of fear. I’m not a chaplain and I wasn’t sure what to do.  But, instead of hiding behind my lack of qualifications. I explained that I was a volunteer, and asked him to show me where the family was.  Standing at the door to the room, I asked God for a blessing and went inside to be with a family in deep and unconsolable mourning.

That was a place and a moment where I felt weak and slightly afraid. I hungered for the security and safety of the “right words,” but I had only my presence and a selection of psalm to offer them. I felt fearfully vulnerable. But, it was the place God lead me. And so I trusted. I trusted that whatever happened –this wasn’t about me. It was about their sorrow and their need to have someone come and pray with them in their time of mourning.  And so I went. And praying with them, sharing psalm 42, listening to their memories and their pain, hearing what a loving father the deceased was, all of it –I believe it was a blessing for them, but I am certain it was a blessing for me.

And it all started with me reading a name on my list that wasn’t selected for me by the chaplain, but (I guess) was by the Holy Spirit.  The first step was leaving the safety and security of the highlighted names, to go somewhere God was leading me.  Then, visiting the man who was almost deaf was a second step. He wasn’t the one I felt an attachment to, and I only stepped into his room because I could see him through the window and saw what looked like fear and confusion on his face –in his eyes. It was uncomfortable and awkward trying to talk with him –but because I tried, because I didn’t just give up and walk away, I was still on the floor when the other man died and because I left his room when the nurse started her work I happened to be walking out the door just as the other nurse came looking for a chaplain. 

And by being vulnerable what did I find?  An opportunity to become a blessing.  And an opportunity to be blessed.  And you know, I think in that moment of blessedness I had a brief glimpse of another foreign land: Heaven. Perhaps what Jesus is telling us in the beatitudes isn’t just that being poor, or meek, or hungry or thirsty or suffering for Christ is good for us; perhaps what He means when He says “blessed are…” is that to offer ourselves in this way is truly blessed; it is a taste of Heaven. 

Think about your own life. When did you feel most blessed? Was it in a moment of earthly success (a 100 on a test, a new job, successfully completing a project or getting an award for some achievement) or was it when you offered yourself completely (in all your brokenness and insufficiency) and found that you were received and you were a blessing to someone who needed you?

To become a blessing is to be doubly blessed.

Reflection on Abram, Vulnerability & Blessing II

“I will bless those who bless you…”  -Genesis 12:3

 

           Here is the other thing that I was thinking about in relation to this reading –to this verse in particular— what if it isn’t simply descriptive of how Abram became a blessing to the world –by leaving the security and safety of his homeland and his father’s house and going to a foreign land—but what if it was also instructive of how someone we turn someone from a curse to a blessing in our own life? Of course, it could certainly be both and most probably even more than that (i.e. the four-fold reading method), but with my own prejudices (or predilections) I tend to look for the paradox or the strangeness in a passage; that is the element that tends to call out to me and so I stumbled over the blessing of vulnerability in my first approach to Abram’s call.  But, ruminating over the passage I kept hearing this little piece echoing over and over again in my soul. And so, after a day or so, I began to contemplate whether the talk of blessing might also apply to how we look at others, how we treat them, how we transform we feel toward them. 

            And this all came into my heart as I was falling into a moment of personal failing and –if not sin, then a very near occasion of; I was doing something very much like gossip.  I was talking about someone who had been hurtful toward me. A person who frightened me even. It all started with me telling a friend why I wouldn’t be part of an event, and by way of explanation I brought up the event that caused me such pain and my need to avoid a particular person.  And if I had stopped there, my words might have simply been informative.  But, I began to elaborate on what happened and my own hurt feelings, and I began to speculate about this person and to shape my story to make myself the innocent victim and this other person a mean-spirited bully. 

            And then suddenly I stopped. Cut myself off. Sitting there, in that classroom, talking with a friend, I heard God’s words echo in my head: “I will bless those who bless you…” and I thought –What am I doing? I’m not blessing her; I’m cursing this person; therefore, I am cursing myself.

            It was probably that precise moment when I realized that this was not simply a description of Abram’s call to go become vulnerable, but also an instruction for how we are called to treat others.

I will bless those who bless you.

I began to suspect that this wasn’t JUST directed to Abram of Ur in 2000 BC. I began to suspect that, like most of the rest of the Bible, it contained a truth that was meant for me as well.  And I began to suspect that it had something to do with turning my heart around; with how to turn what seems like a curse into a blessing. 

I will bless those who bless you.

If this wasn’t just directed Abram of Ur, then it probably wasn’t just directed to me either. Maybe I needed to look at it from a different point of view. Step out of the middle of the “you-ness” of the statement and consider it from the other side. From this other vantage point I’m not simply the one being blessed or cursed, but I’m also the one doing the blessing and the cursing.  And reading it thus, I realized: God blesses me –when I bless others.  I don’t mean as a reward, I mean that the supernatural consequence of blessing another is to be blessed. The supernatural result of cursing someone is to be cursed.   

            For me the message was clear: Having a difficult time with someone? Stop talking about it and start blessing them.            

On the Blessing of Vulnerability (Abram's call to go to a foreign land…)

“Now the LORD said to Abram:  Go forth from your country, and from your relatives and from your father’s house, to the land which I will show you; And I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you, And make your name great; And so you shall be a blessing; And I will bless those who bless you, And the one who curses you I will curse. And all clans on earth will bless themselves by you.”      --Genesis 12:1-3

     When the Lord sends Abram to a far country, away from his relatives and his father’s house, we might be tempted to simply accept it as part of the narrative –a plot device so to speak. We might not question it, or contemplate it because it feels like the introduction to a story; it feels like a “once upon a time” moment.  We are so familiar with the rest of this story, the covenant drama with the split animal bodies, the many conversations with God, the name changes (Abram to Abraham; Sarai to Sarah), the heavenly visitors who prophecy Sarah’s pregnancy, the bargaining with God and especially the sacrifice of Isaac, that this opening detail can easily get glossed over in our rush to get to the action. But reading this passage the other morning, especially after reading Romans, I was struck by the weirdness of it.  Am I crazy? Quite possibly.  But, bear with me as I chase this idea once more around the bend. 

     Here’s what I heard in my heart when I read this: God called Abram to leave the place he knew, his homeland, and leave the place where he felt secure, his father’s house, and to go to a place that God would show him –a place Abram didn’t know and where he would have no standing. Go there. Go to this foreign land where you will be vulnerable and quite literally out of your comfort zone, and by doing this you will become a blessing for all people.  What does that vision say to my life? What does it say to the world today? 

     The first thing that occurred to me was: I need to go where God calls regardless of how comfortable or safe it seems. Because where God calls us to go will often be somewhere unfamiliar and challenging, but it will most assuredly be a place of vulnerability.  Isn’t that confirmed in Jesus? To be a witness for God, is to be vulnerable, to place ourselves in the hands of others –that we might become a blessing for them.  Notice that God tells Abram that those who bless him will be blessed and that those who curse him will be cursed. That sure sounds like God telling him, telling US, that some people will accept us and bless us and others will curse us. And notice that God doesn’t give any directives as to how Abram should react to either. In light of recently reading Romans, I still had these words of Paul’s echoing in my head:

“None of us lives for himself and none of us dies for himself. While we are alive we live for the Lord, and when we die, we die for the Lord…” (cf. Romans 14:7-8)

And with that thought still in mind, I saw in God’s call to Abram a call to all Christians to leave their comfort and their security and to go forth to an unfamiliar place where you can become a blessing to those who bless you.  It isn’t our business to judge the people who curse or bless us, it is only our business to get off the couch and go out to the world where we will be vulnerable, where God will give us the opportunity to serve Him in the people we meet, the people who bless or curse us, the people who simply reach out to us in need of help, a friend, food, or a consoling hand.  And I think somehow in God's algebra of grace, being vulnerable is an essential part of the equation; it is essential to becoming a blessing. Eegads! Contemplate that the next time you feel insecure.

     If you turn off your TV or shut off your phone (or computer) for a while you may hear a voice calling you, a voice calling from deep inside of you, calling you to get up off the couch and go outside –out of your comfort zone, out of your familiar places—go somewhere and just be vulnerable. Go somewhere that you might not normally go. Is that to the hospital to volunteer? Perhaps. Or to a soup kitchen? Maybe. Quite possibly it starts with simply telling someone after mass how much you liked their singing. Ask yourself this: Does it make you feel uncomfortable? Vulnerable? Then quite probably that is where you are being called to go. 

NEXT—that other thing this reading brought to mind.