Vulnerability
Sir 3:17-18, 20, 28-29; Ps 68:4-5, 6-7, 10-11; Heb 12:18-19, 22-24a; Lk 14:1, 7-14
Do you regularly volunteer your time in support of some particular cause or need? If so, how do you pick your volunteer opportunities? Whenever there are multiple possibilities offered (for example, in a parish, at a campus Newman Center or even in a seminary), there are certain options that fill up quickly and others that are invariably the most difficult to staff.
We tend to be drawn to populations that we know best. For example, college students and seminarians often love to work with children or young adults. They can be fun to engage with and are generally appreciative of being accompanied by their own peers or those slightly older.
On the other hand, volunteer opportunities with persons in prison, those in need of critical care, or those with severe developmental challenges can be quite difficult to fill. Few of us feel that we have the skill set to be helpful in such situations. We are afraid of saying the “wrong” thing, we don’t know what would be useful, or we’re frightened by the prospect of trying to engage someone who seems to be completely incommunicative. In short, feeling helpless is an extremely disorientating and vulnerable experience.
Given this quality of human nature, it is striking that when Jesus sends the disciples out on their own, he deliberately does so in a way that assures they are helpless, to some degree. They are to set out with no walking stick, no sack, no food, no money, etc. (Lk 12:1-3).
If they hope to survive on this mission, much less succeed in it, they will have to receive from the people they encounter. And Jesus makes it clear that not everyone will necessarily be happy to have them (Lk 12:5). Thus, the disciples will face an important choice: what will they do if their presence is rejected? Will they remain and receive help from those who are supportive, or will they give up on the mission and return home?
Our readings this week specifically address the topic of humility, but I would suggest that Jesus is calling us to be humble by walking the path of vulnerability. After all, you cannot simply decide to be humble as an act of the will. In order to feel humility, you must first recognize that you alone are not able to control a situation or affect an outcome. And even if you have the skills to decide an outcome but choose to hold back, that is true humility (rather than manipulation or condescension) only if you open yourself up to the risk that your actions may be misinterpreted or that the results may be harmful to you.
In the Gospel, when Jesus encourages humility in his disciples, he tells them the parable about a wedding banquet to illustrate that we can make concrete choices (even as simple as where we sit at a banquet) that will render our assets and skill sets largely irrelevant. Whether or not the seating choice of the guests in the parable leads to humility will depend on if they are able to receive from their host — whether that be the simple hospitality offered to the least on the guest list, or the lavish welcome at the highest place of honor.
Truly humble persons can receive from others, not despite their vulnerabilities, but precisely because of them. And they will not close themselves off due to either embarrassment, resentment, or shame.
We can follow the same path as the wedding guests in the parable, or the disciples that Jesus sends out on mission. We can consciously choose to put ourselves in situations where we feel inadequate or vulnerable. We can choose to volunteer at the nursing home or the prison, for example.
But besides volunteering, we can make choices in our families and workplaces such that we attend to the very people whom we struggle to be with, not because they are so unpleasant, but because they remind us of our own frailty. From that position of weakness, we can often be the most prepared to receive love and care from others and from God. Humility, more than being simply the defeater of pride, can be the gateway of love.