Living Lent: The Joy of Vulnerability
John 4: 5-42 (Selected)
Beaumont Presbyterian Church
March 23, 2014
The Rev. Susan Warren
I’m wondering how many of you, if you noticed the title of this sermon, thought
“how could there be joy in vulnerability?” And it’s true. We go through much of our lives
trying to protect ourselves from being vulnerable, don’t we? We associate vulnerability
with weakness.
My message today is that vulnerability is the exact opposite of weakness.
Vulnerability is courage. But I’ll get to that in a moment.
The story of the woman at the well is among the best known and most analyzed in
the bible. Scholars like to contrast this story with the one Andrew read last week, also
from the gospel of John, about Nicodemus and his night-time visit to Jesus. Nicodemus
asks what seems a ludicrous question about how a person can be reborn after he is out of
the womb – a good example of the problem of hearing with a literal ear.
As preaching professor Karoline Lewis points out, the “contrast between
Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman is striking,” something the reader is meant to
notice since the stories appear next to each other and are unique to John’s gospel.
(Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2)
“Nicodemus is a Pharisee – an insider, a leader of the Jews. He is a man, he has a
name, but he comes to Jesus by night.” The woman “is a Samaritan – a religious, social
and political outsider. She is a woman, she has no name, but she meets Jesus at noon, in
full daylight.” Their conversations with Jesus reveal even more contrasts. Nicodemus
can’t move beyond the confines of his religion, can’t get to a point where his heart is
open to who Jesus is and the good news he brings. The woman, on the other hand, “gets
it.” (Feasting).
The woman is the perfect example of how Brene Brown describes vulnerability.
In her book, Daring Greatly, Brown reminds us that vulnerability involves allowing
ourselves to be seen as we truly are, despite the risks, and giving ourselves the
opportunity to engage fully with one another.1
Brown’s doctoral studies in vulnerability led her to write that “we are hardwired
to connect with others, it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it
there is suffering.” Her study of people also led her to conclude that many of us fear
being unworthy of real connection.”2 And she reached the conclusion that at the heart of
our fears is the problem of scarcity, to which I have alluded last week. It is the fear of not
being good enough – not successful enough, smart enough, safe enough, powerful
enough and so on.
Lynn Twist describes the problem well in her book, The Soul of Money. She
writes that, “for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is ‘I didn’t get enough
sleep.’ (I certainly can identify with that!) The next one is ‘I don’t have enough time.’
(Okay, she really has my number . . . ) Whether true of not,” writes Twist, “ that thought
1
2
Brene Brown, Daring Greatly, Gotham Books; New York: 2012
Ibid.
of not enough occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it.
We spend most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining,
or worrying about what we don’t have enough of . . . before we even sit up in bed, before
our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already
lacking something. And by the time we go to bed at night, our minds are racing with a
litany of what we didn’t get, or didn’t get done, that day. We go to sleep burdened by
those thoughts and wake up to that reverie of lack . . . This internal condition of scarcity,
this mind-set of scarcity, lives at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice,
and our arguments with life.”3
So, this sense of lack that permeates our lives generates fear, which in turn
compels us to fortify ourselves against vulnerability.
But get this. When Brown in her research asked people to respond to the
statement, “Vulnerability is (fill in the blank), here are some of the replies:
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Sharing an unpopular opinion.
Standing up for myself.
Asking for help.
Saying no.
Calling a friend whose child just died.
The first date after my divorce.
Getting promoted and not knowing if I’m going to succeed.
Does this sound like a list of weaknesses to you? No. Because vulnerability is not
weakness. Vulnerability is actually courage. It may be uncomfortable, it may be full of
uncertainty, but it’s never weakness. Therein lies a big misunderstanding about the whole
idea of vulnerability.
When Brown asked the question “How does vulnerability feel?” the answers were
equally powerful.
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It’s taking off the mask and hoping the real me isn’t too disappointing.
Taking off a straitjacket.
Taking the first step toward what you fear the most.
A lump in my throat and a knot in my chest.
Letting go of control.4
One of my favorite authors, the late Madeleine L’Engle, wrote that “when we
were children, we used to think that when we were grown up we would no longer be
vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable.”
As I was reading about this topic over the past few weeks, it struck me that our
church should be – and I hope is – a safe place where we can allow ourselves to both feel
and express our vulnerable. And here’s why. As Brown notes vulnerability is not meeting
3
4
Lynn Twist, The Soul of Money, quoted by Brown, pp 43-45
Brown.
someone for the first time and announcing, “Hi, my name is Susan, and I want to tell you
my deepest, darkest struggles.” No. Vulnerability doesn’t ignore appropriate boundaries,
it means “sharing with people with whom we’ve developed relationships that can bear the
weight of our story. The result of this mutually respectful vulnerability is increased
connection, trust and engagement.”5
I understand that churches in general haven’t the best reputations. They can be
conflicted communities where backbiting, jealousy and politics are just as prevalent – or
more so – than in other segments of society. But I don’t see that here, at least not much.
What I see here is a community that really is beginning to engage with one
another. To share with one another. To trust one another. Some of you have long histories
with one another. Others are newer and are being welcomed. My hope and prayer for
Beaumont is that it continue to become a community where fears are put aside, where the
courage of vulnerability is honored and welcomed.
The woman at the well with no name and no place and no right to question Jesus
as she did – I can’t think of a more vulnerable person. Yet it was she whom Jesus
honored her by telling her “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” He gives his
confession to her, that he is the messiah. Her willingness to connect, to engage, to offer
herself and her bucket to Jesus made all the difference.
One commentator writes that “Jesus is thirsty at the well, and we are the ones with
the bucket.” Think about that. Will we hold back in fear? Or will we in all our
vulnerability offer a cool cup of water and begin our own journey with Jesus? Amen.
5
Ibid.