The Shadow Side of Vulnerability
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During a sabbatical in the UK a few years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting a British Unitarian minister named Jane at a ministers’ retreat. I liked her instantly. She led a beautiful evening vespers service; her voice cast a peaceful spell over the room. But we really didn’t have much of a chance to talk. There were rumbles at the retreat that Jane was struggling with cancer.
Later, Jane, another colleague and I had a wonderful dinner together in Liverpool. She had just returned to work after her latest extended, cancer-related absence. It felt like one of those moments when a deep connection is made in spite of spending such a short time together. Jane’s worry about a few new unexplained lumps and her not feeling very good cast an anxious note on our conversation.
We got a pint at a nearby pub, and then bid Jane goodbye as she jumped into a cab. It was the last time I would ever see her. Shortly after I returned to the U.S. a month later, I learned that Jane indeed had a recurrence of the cancer and that it was hopeless. She resigned from her church position, moved in with her parents, and entered into hospice care. Jane died soon after.
Even though I’ve been in the line of work where I might have to do three memorial services in three days for people I love, at least a lot of the time I live in denial of death. And even though cancer loomed large over our conversation with Jane, it was a shock to me that she was gone only four months later. While I was settling back into my normal life, Jane was dying. I’m not sure how to wrap my heart around this.
We human beings are incredibly vulnerable. Four months from now any of us could have gotten really sick, entered into hospice care, and died. The late Unitarian Universalist minister Forrest Church used the image that we are all walking on trap doors. One day, the trap door opens and woosh—
we are gone. Is there anything more you need to know about the inherent vulnerability of human beings?
So a basic spiritual question is how we’re going to live with this fact of our vulnerability. Are we going to express our vulnerability or are we going to wall it off? Like many others, I’ve made a case for expressing rather than walling off our vulnerability. But I want to temper that sentiment by saying we also need to develop a streak of steel within ourselves. I’m not sure most of us could survive without that steel. Maybe a few Buddhist souls could, but not most of us.
The need for a streak of steel within us is even more important if we find ourselves in a population labeled “vulnerable” — if we are a person of color, or poor, or not in the majority in terms of our gender and/or sexual identity, for example.
As a straight, relatively affluent, white male in the U.S., I am emphatically not in a vulnerable population. This is the nature of my straight, affluent, white, male, American privilege. I don’t generally have to worry about where my next meal is coming from or whether there’s going to be a roof overhead when I go to sleep tonight, or about my partner assaulting me, or getting beat up because someone thinks I’m gay, or shot if I listen to loud music or wear a hoodie.
In recent years, we Unitarian Universalists have often lifted up the need to express our vulnerability as a virtue. So I ask: Is our vulnerability always a virtue? Is it an absolute good?
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not against expressing our vulnerability. Without vulnerability, genuine connection with our deepest self or with other people is not possible. Vulnerability is a gateway to connection, the birthplace of authenticity, accountability, joy, creativity, belonging, love, innovation, inspiration, spirituality and adaptability.
But it’s also true that being vulnerable with others is not always a good thing. We need to express our vulnerability, and we need to make sure that streak of steel is there, too. We need to be aware of when exercising our vulnerability isn’t such a good thing.
I can think of three circumstances in which expressing our vulnerability is not a good thing. The first is when we are in an oppressed position and being vulnerable exposes us to increased danger. Being vulnerable, of course, is always a risk. For example, in being vulnerable with a partner or another family member, we risk their misusing whatever we shared with them to hurt us.
To connect deeply, we need to be vulnerable anyway. But when we are in a situation of oppression, the risk in expressing our vulnerability is not necessarily worth it. Those among us who are privileged need to beware of preaching a gospel of vulnerability to others who are not so privileged. (I should add here that if a person is in a relatively privileged position, chances are good that the person would do well to get in touch with their vulnerability.)
A second circumstance in which showing our vulnerability is not a good thing is when such expression is motivated by a desire to manipulate others. Let’s say I majorly screw up at home. It’s good to admit that I’ve done so, to admit the exact nature of my wrongdoing. As I do so, it might be good to show my vulnerability—unless in so doing I’m consciously or unconsciously trying to diminish or pre-empt my partner’s anger. I need to avoid expressing my vulnerability with the unspoken message of “See how vulnerable I am. Now don’t be a meanie and stay angry.”
I have seen folks use their vulnerability as a way to manipulate others. I’ve been manipulated by folks who have used their vulnerability like this. And, if I’m honest, I can think of times when I’ve done the same to others.
The third circumstance in which expressing our vulnerability is not a good thing is when it’s little more than a symptom of self-centeredness or even narcissism. Rather than opening ourselves and giving space for others to share their vulnerability, we hog the floor. “See how vulnerable I am? I’m sharing my deepest feelings with you. And while I’m at it, let me share another vulnerable piece of me. And then this piece. I’m just a wonderfully vulnerable person.” And no one else gets a word in edgewise.
So there’s a need to express our vulnerability skillfully. (I’m using “skillful” in the Buddhist sense.) Here are good questions I might ask myself before showing vulnerability: Is there a power difference between the other person and me, with me at the low end? If so, will my sharing my vulnerability expose me to unnecessary danger? What is the motivation for my expressing my vulnerability? Is it to open myself to genuine connection with the other person? Or is it so I can manipulate her or him, or keep the focus on me?
How might we skillfully convey our vulnerability in a marriage or other form of life partnership? I think we need to be wary of revealing our vulnerability if there is a power differential between us and our partner—especially if we are on the receiving end of any sort of abuse in the relationship. But we need to share our vulnerability deeply and openly if the relationship is truly mutual. This is incredibly difficult. The writer Diane Ackerman captures this truth well in her A Natural History of Love: “After all, love requires the utmost vulnerability. We equip someone with freshly sharpened knives, strip naked, then invite him (or her) to stand close. What could be scarier?”
But the depth and power of the relationship is directly proportional to the extent to which we can take the leap of faith in communicating our vulnerability. At the same time, we need to avoid expressing our vulnerability as a manipulative way to keep the focus on us.
How might skillful expression of vulnerability manifest itself in how we raise our children? (I’m using “children” here very broadly—not just our biological or adoptive children, but also our grandchildren and any other children whom we mentor.) Child-rearing is all about teaching and reinforcing impossible and paradoxical balances. Demonstrating vulnerability is no exception. We need to help nurture our kids’ small streaks of steel. They’re going to need the steel. We also need to help them learn how to express their vulnerability openly and honestly.
We need to help them be able to put up walls around their vulnerability when they need walls, and to tear down the walls when they don’t need them. We also need to teach our children not only to convey their own vulnerability, but to listen to others sharing theirs. Whatever our age, however, the balancing act of vulnerability remains a vital growing edge as we navigate this complex world.
I’ve adapted a perhaps familiar passage into what I’m calling the Vulnerability Courage Prayer: “God, grant me the strength to have a streak of steel when I need it, the courage to express my vulnerability when I can, and the wisdom to know when to do which.”
Roger has been actively involved in community activities.In Appleton, he co-founded Toward Community: Unity in Diversity, Common Ground (an interfaith clergy group dedicated to improving the health of the community), the Fox Cities Rotary Multicultural Center, and the GLBT Partnership (a support program for LGBTQ youth).He also served on many boards including the Community Health Action Team affiliated with a local hospital system, Harbor House (an organization addressing domestic violence), and Voices of Men (an organization focused on encouraging men to take a vocal stand against violence against girls and women).He has also served Unitarian Universalism in many ways including as a Ministerial Settlement Representative, president of his UU Ministers Association (UUMA) chapter, co-chair of the UUMA’s continuing education committee, and member of the UU Partner Church Council Board.Roger is a consultant on church governance with Unity Consultants, a wholly owned subsidiary of Unity Church-Unitarian in St. Paul, MN.
Roger is married to the Rev. Amy Bertschausen a minister in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).They live in St. Louis, MO.Amy is the Executive Director of Care and Counseling, a non-profit counseling center in St. Louis.Roger and Amy have two children.Hattie is preparing for a law career.Hattie and her husband Nic Cable live in Columbus, IN, where Nic was recently called to serve the UU Congregation of Columbus, IN—a congregation which Roger served as its first, quarter-time minister in 1988-89.Ian is in his third year of law school at the University of Miami in Florida.Roger’s hobbies include backpacking, running, owning an NFL team (he along with hundreds of thousands of others owns the Green Bay Packers), avidly following the Detroit Tigers and St. Louis Cardinals baseball teams, and enjoying the serenity of a little place (technically a garage) on a tiny lake in Wisconsin’s North Woods.
- Sanctuaries of Silence - December 1, 2020
- The Shadow Side of Vulnerability - October 1, 2017
- Grief—One Year Later - October 1, 2014
