Each week I and the other interns turn in reflections. We write a reflection for each of our parish placements, our non-profits, and our intentional community.
In each reflection we strive to answer the question, “Where is God in all of this?”
One week my community reflection included the line, “Through our willingness to be vulnerable with each other we are able to not only be comforted or advised, but also able to practice being nurturing and empathetic.”
After reading these words Fr. Jason, our program director looked me in the eye and asked, “Reagan, do you feel you tend to be vulnerable with people?”
For a moment I didn’t know what to say. After collecting my thoughts I replied, “Well I think I am, I think I am vulnerable, but no I suppose I’m not as vulnerable as I could be.”
After my meeting, as is often the case with spiritual encounters or discussions I was left with more questions than answers.
“Am I vulnerable?”
“Am I vulnerable enough?”
“Am I too vulnerable?”
“Where does being vulnerable get me?”
“Where does NOT being vulnerable get me?”
As I delved into the gospel reading assigned for today my questions were raised once again.
Now, there is no denying that life can be hard.
We have all been in Mary and Martha’s shoes, if not with death than with other heart breaking emotions.
There is no denying that we have all at one time or another seen or experienced abuse, grief, pain, neglect, or feelings of inadequacy.
Acting as the Marthas and Marys of our own time we may choose to shout to the heavens, “Where were you God?” or perhaps all we can muster is a whisper, “Are you there God?”
Just as tragedies of today can leave us asking why bad things are allowed to happen, Mary and Martha blatantly tell Jesus that if he had been present, their brother would not have died.
We might wonder why Jesus waited two extra days before going to be with his friend. There are many theories for this, including the Jewish myth that a soul lingered around a body for up to 3 days.
In this context it would appear that Jesus waited 4 days after his death to ensure that there was no question that the resurrection would be a miracle.
We cannot say for sure Jesus’ reasons for waiting, but we can learn much from what happens next.
After speaking with Martha and Mary, Jesus asks to be taken to the tomb of his friend.
And then, known as the shortest verse in the bible, we read the words, “Jesus began to weep.”
Jesus’ humanity shines through and for a brief moment it seems we understand everything and nothing at all.
We can relate to Jesus’ tears for losing a friend. We can relate to being spiritually distraught and deeply moved by tragedy. What is difficult for us to wrap our heads around is when we see the messiah, the God incarnate weeping. Moments later he will resurrect his friend, and he must know this, yet he weeps.
This passage displays Jesus both as wholly divine, and fully human.
He is vulnerable in his weeping. Vulnerable with the community that followed him there, with Martha and Mary, and with all the others gathered there that sought to mourn the loss of a friend.
Brene Brown, a university professor who focuses on studying the wholeheartedness of families writes that as humans we crave connection. She states that connection to other people is what gives us meaning and purpose, and that we are hard wired to seek out this feeling.
We know that Jesus adorned this way of life and thinking by his work of coming close to people, especially the people that no one else wanted to come close to.
So, what does it take to be connected?
Vulnerability.
And what does it take to be vulnerable?
Courage.
The word courage actually comes from Latin root Cor, meaning heart. It essentially means to exist with our whole heart.
When we all practice courage, when we speak with our whole heart we become better empathizers and listeners.
We connect.
There is a South African philosophy called, Ubuntu. The concept is that my humanity is bound to yours, and yours to mine. It is not, I think therefore I am, but rather, I am because we are. If one of us are hurting, we are all hurting. If one of us is joyful we are all joyful.
By being vulnerable we open ourselves up to the opportunity to connect with the humanity that surrounds us, and to be authentic to the humanity within us.
This can be distressing, terrifying even.
Why?
Because by doing so, we are given no guarantees.
Our dignity is on the line and our hearts could very well end up broken.
These are valid reasons to remain closed up. To seek shelter within the confines of the walls we build up around ourselves.
I do not have the confidence to stand before you today and tell you that I know what the human family is supposed to be like.
But after today’s gospel reading, I can tell you that I have a better idea of what the human family should be like.
Jesus weeps with us, even when hope is around the corner. Jesus opens himself up to us, so that we may open ourselves up to him, and to each other.
By connecting with Christ and each other we are opened to a world of joy and acceptance.
When we are vulnerable it is as if God sings softly to our souls. It is a song that can be heard in the silence, those moments when the spirit is flowing so freely between us and others that we know what it means to belong.
I don’t know what the song sounds like for you, that is your work to find out, but it might sound something like this:
If you let me take your heart I will prove to you. We will never be apart, if I’m part of you. Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see It is no surprise now what you see is me.
On this fifth Sunday of Lent, a time when we are learning more about who we are and about the one who will be Easter, I charge us all, myself included, to break open our hearts.
To let go of holding it together, to feel what we feel, and to share it with others.
That we may both rejoice and cry together as the situation calls for.
That as we walk through Holy Week, we may fully experience the story. To remember that we are on a journey that didn’t just happen once a long time ago, but that the journey is also now.
Let us Sing, Cry, Laugh, Embrace, and be as genuinely human as we can be.
I am because we are.
You are because we are.
And we are because Christ was, is, and will be.
Amen.
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