Dispelling the Shadow

Our age has sought to bring equality to the fore as no age before it. We have sought out shadows and fought to bring light. We have set up models, glorified leaders, and proclaimed our heroes.

One shadow still remains; the shadow that covers every human soul and is in need of healing: the shadow of woundedness.

Woundedness doesn’t speak to glory, but rather to struggle. Yet, in all the ways that we are similar, nothing unites us more than that fact that each of us has been wounded.

But what are those wounds? For some of us, it is hurtful events in life, betrayals of those who should have loved us, forgetfulness of those who call themselves our friends. Unimaginable losses.

Those wounds are more able to heal than the ones we forget. We read  in Sirach 24:21 of those wounds, as it says You who eat of me will hunger still, you who drink of me will thirst for me. It is as if we are being told that no matter what we accomplish, we will still have needs, we will still have emptiness, we will still want. And in our attempts to satisfy those wants, we often compromise. We often settle for the lesser satisfaction rather than find the deeper fulfillment. I believe it is this compromise that makes up most of our woundedness.

Only when we remember our woundedness can we truly stand together. Because when I remember this wound within myself, caused by my own decisions, can I have the understanding and compassion that accepts another's wounds. Only then does tolerance turn into empathy and acceptance of another. Only when I am aware of my own fragility will I allow another to have theirs.

Led from judgment to compassion

In my line of work, dealing with an individual is about looking past her actions and into her woundedness. It changes one's perspective, and keeps one looking at what wounds a person may be suffering from rather than why is a person is doing this or that. It leads one from making judgment to offering compassion.

I wonder if that is why Isaiah calls the Messiah the wounded healer, one who not only suffered, but kept his wounds visible for the disciples to see even after his resurrection. And Isaiah says, by his wounds we are healed (53:5). Healed from what? Perhaps we are healed from our judgments and our near sighted view of the human condition. Perhaps we are healed from looking at others in superficial ways instead of from the depth of one's own woundedness and compassion.

If I remember my own struggle, I will look upon someone else from that place, I will bring a lot more compassion into our world. Many people suffer silent, hidden wounds. They carry these wounds as burdens upon their heart. And when that burden becomes too heavy, they may lash out or cut me off. If I can look past that conduct to see a burdened heart, I could offer empathy and compassion. Perhaps I can not lift that person's burden. But at least I can refrain from adding to it.

In this Advent Season, we like to think of the joyful aspects of our faith. But let us never forget, we are all wounded, all vulnerable, all in need of compassion. The very reason the Savior came as an Infant and not as a full grown King was to draw out that compassion from our hearts. An Infant is very decidedly vulnerable.

Let that be the gift we offer this Christmas Season. Let our preparation be mindful of our own woundedness, and let that memory overflow in compassionate acts that bring some of that peace to others.

A Prayer of Acceptance

We all cherish the directness and honesty of children. But while we chuckle at how unhibited they act we know that the day will come when life will not be so simple for them.

In our spiritual life, we too must "grow up" into a reality that the spiritual life is not so simple. We can't just "pay our dues" and expect all will be fine. Bernard Bro puts it this way: perhaps the best definition [of an adolescent] is that of someone who has not yet experienced her limitations, and therefore has not had to accept them.

Bro points out that much of our prayer, the earnest and heartfelt portion, usually springs forth when we realize our limitations, our woundedness, our needs. When we do, we have the opportunity to accept them in faith, or to become angry that life isn't fair. Our acceptance, our "growing up" leads us to that authentic self, where we no longer pretend to things that are not so.

Bro goes on to say Prayer brings us back to what is most authentic in our quest for happiness...prayer makes us free...prayer...must teach us every day of our need for God.

If you and I would grow up spiritually, we need to realize that prayer is more than asking. It is accepting. It is telling God that we are okay in feeling needy, in being wounded, in having wants in life. Prayer from a child grown into an adult says to God, "Yes, this is a relationship where I can trust that no matter what happens to me, I can reach out my hand and find you are there." Prayer is realizing that it is our very needs that keep us close to God.

For if we were all sufficient, who of us would take the time to pray?