Over fall retreat, I was opened to a number of new experiences, ideas, and relationships. But perhaps most powerfully of all, my heart and mind were opened to the life-giving power of vulnerability. From this revelation, my reflection is born:Finding Life in Vulnerability
Living in community is not easy. Here are some examples of non-easy things: Not having Wi-Fi; making dinner for ten; giving up energy and lots and lots of time for your community; trusting people whom you’ve only known for two months; trying to understand those who are very different from you; navigating conflict in an open, peaceful, and productive way; and last but not least, being vulnerable. In a way, vulnerability encompasses many of these difficult tasks. For instance, vulnerability is the foundation of mutual understanding, and rarely is conflict productive without vulnerability from all sides.
But, as I previously mentioned, vulnerability is not easy. It takes courage and strength. It requires the difficult and sometimes painful task of removing both our own and others’ emotional, spiritual, and interpersonal barriers. It asks us to let go of what is familiar, known, and comfortable and to reach toward the unknown, the unexplored, and sometimes, the uncomfortable. In this brave and often frightening extension, we break the barriers of social stigma, isolation, and interpersonal limitations, opening up a new space in which joy, creativity, meaning, and love flourish.
It is critical to note that this type of life-giving vulnerability requires two intentional movements. Firstly, it necessitates a personal submission to vulnerability. Secondly, it calls for willingness and concrete effort to understand the wounds of others.
In order to walk with others in the experience of their wounds, we must first tend to our own. Albeit painful, we must be willing to open ourselves, reveal our wounds, so that by the power and grace found in a (literal and figurative) communal embrace, our scars may be redeemed. In the communal embrace of acceptance, solidarity and love, the wounds are transformed into beacons of hope for all. Just as Christ’s wounds were redeemed by his death and resurrection, our wounds are also redeemed by self-giving actions of unconditional acceptance and love. Opening oneself to others is a terrifying experience, but it allows one to truly experience the love of community.
Life-giving vulnerability also requires action to understand the wounds of others. Cultivate curiosity (™ Catherine Scallen) about the words and actions of housemates or those encountered in the work-setting. Instead of protesting (e.g. “I cannot believe he/she did x, y or z!”), ask (e.g. “What caused him/her to act this way? And what do his/her actions indicate about his/her needs for love, acceptance, healing, etc?”). Over the weekend, I was reminded of the fact that people act the way they do for certain reasons. There is always so much more to the story, as understood in both good and bad contexts, than the eye can see. Judgment leaves no room for compassion or connection via understanding, and thus, no room for healing. It is important to note that none of this involves trying to change or fix another person, but rather necessitates a deep, compassionate, and intentional mutual understanding such that the “looking upon from a distance” of judgment becomes the “walking with” of compassion.
This retreat opened my eyes to how expansive our mission as Amate Volunteers, and moreover, as members of the human race, actually is. We are not just being called to serve. We are being called to create and participate in a community of acceptance, solidarity, healing, and love. In order for this community to flourish, we must be vulnerable, both recognizing our own wounds and seeking to understand the wounds of others. In this vulnerability, the mission to heal wounds and sow love, that is, the mission of a service community, is brought to life.
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