Vulnerability

the separation wall outside a friend's shop in Bethlehem

Being in Israel/Palestine during operation Pillar of Defense has been interesting to say the least. Friends and family in the US have been understandably worried while I, on the other hand, have scored a fear factor of zero on the richter scale. Even though I've navigated driving through some dicey demonstrations, I have not been afraid. Demonstrations are not the same as military incursions. The intent is different. The Palestinian protests are an expression of support for Gaza and ongoing frustration about the Occupation while Pillar of Defense involves massive military bombing and rocket strikes that are targeting areas that are not proximate to where I am. Those rare rogue rocket strikes have not concerned me a bit.

Even though my fear has not played on my emotions this past week, I have been aware of a heightened sense of vulnerability. For Palestinians, living in the West Bank is a daily experience in assessing the susceptibility and survivability of the Israeli Occupation. One must always be aware of where you are, the restrictions incumbent on that location, and who has power and how night they use (or abuse) it. My American passport grants me many exceptions to these restrictions and provides the promise of protection. Choosing to live in the West Bank means that I walk alongside those who constantly assess their viability within this unjustifiable crusade. So I have felt more vulnerable, sharing the potential impact of political realities which are outside of my control.

Vulnerability is something all of us live with to varying degrees. We constantly evaluate the risk we feel emotionally, physically, and nationally as it relates to our environments and social networks. When we find the level of vulnerability tolerable, we can act with courage, master new ideas and skills, and enter into uncharted territory in relationships. Tolerable vulnerability can catalyze change in positive ways. But when we assess the risk and the danger at too high a level, we become fearful. This leads to stalled and broken trust. Our response is often fight, flight, or freeze.

So what goes into determining tolerable levels of vulnerability? Temperament certainly plays a role but so does environment and freedom of choice. Anyone who has been abused or oppressed individually, racially, or politically knows that when choice is taken from you, vulnerability is off the chart. In situations like these, the perception of choice is often manipulated. Finding freedom and voice within such an environment reduces the level of vulnerability and empowers victims. When standing in solidarity with others who share similar experiences, definitions of dignity, integrity, and value are realigned with the biblical concept that all created in the image of God and therefore all people must be treated justly.

The discovery of God's value and the freedom found within that love is what the incarnation is all about. God's vulnerability as a small infant babe demonstrates the ultimate reversal of power. God becomes like us and risks all forms of rejection, physical limitation, religious marginalization, and political corruption. Following God's example in Christ, we must come to terms with our maligned sense of invincibility and accept vulnerability as a way of truly experiencing the world. The bible tells us that the illusion of controlling our lives, masterminding our relationships, manipulating our competence for self gain will be exposed and we will tumble off our platforms of power.

the separation wall in Ramallah

By grace, something shatters the mirror and instead of exclusively seeing ourselves, we inclusively see others. We perceive a resilience not determined by policy, categories, or despair. Worth is granted by God.  In the vulnerability of the marginalized, we recognize our own powerlessness, reminding us that every day is a precious gift. No amount of fear can prolong our days. It fact, fear usually hastens the end.

For those of us with societal power, embracing vulnerability can invite us to go deeper. The helpless babe reminds us to trust something beyond ourselves to meet our needs, provide protection, and immerse us in love. Vulnerable, open, trusting, yielding. It takes courage to admit we live with a certain level of fragility, acknowledging that control is an illusion best counterbalanced by entrusting ourselves to divine love that enfolds and protects us.

So I'm learning to let go, to look and listen more deeply to those around me. The Palestinians, who have very little political power, are teaching me to live fully, freely within this smothering zeitgeist of occupation, whatever form it may take. They are showing me the redemptive quality of living with vulnerability. But I am also reminded that living vulnerably is never an excuse to accept the inevitable human seduction towards ignoring suffering or, even more heinous  causing others to suffer. To live vulnerably is to not only see as God sees but to act as God acts. It means risking loving well and loving all.