Vulnerability

The 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: 1 Sam 26: 2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23; Ps 103; 1 Cor 15: 45-49; Lk 6: 27-38

It’s been some years since I’ve played regularly, but I’ve always enjoyed a good game of bridge. The version of the game you usually play at home is called “rubber bridge.” In bridge, the side that wins the first of three games towards making their contract is said to be “vulnerable.” That means that they can rack up more points and bonuses—but it also means that they can be hit with greater penalties. In other words, to be vulnerable means that you were successful in your game, and the price of that success is that you are now more at risk than normally!

That sounds like a pretty good description of the position that King Saul found himself in in the first mass reading today. This accomplished warrior was on another winning campaign. He was surrounded by three thousand hand-picked, elite and well-trusted soldiers. And yet, here he was, the king of Israel, completely vulnerable as he lay sleeping. David could easily have finished Saul off. If it weren’t for David’s deep compassion and fear of the Lord, Saul would have been a goner.

I very much like this story on two different levels. First, it encourages us to be like David and not take advantage of people’s vulnerability. And second, it’s a great metaphor for the way that God is compassionate towards us in our own vulnerability.

Did David have an unbelievable opportunity, or what?! He could have picked up Saul’s own spear—or just given the order to his loyal Abishai—and Saul would have been dead. No more running for his life, no more living in fear.

But no. David chose to do the honorable thing.

How many opportunities each of us has, too! When the moment is right, I can cheat on my partner or my spouse… backstab a friend or tear him down in front of other friends… I can keep the extra change when the cashier isn’t paying close attention… I can swipe a few bucks out of Mom’s purse when she’s in the kitchen cooking dinner… I can tell a lie and get away with it at home or work or school because people believe they can trust me... or I can be disloyal or manipulative in any one of a thousand other ways, large and small.

You see, anyone who loves or trusts people makes himself vulnerable. It happened to Our Lord so many times—from the people snickering at him behind his back right down to the betrayal by Judas Iscariot—and even the betrayal by Peter when three times he denied knowing Jesus. And obviously, it can and does happen to us, as well.

How much courage and strength—and love!—it takes not to take advantage of that priceless opportunity to exploit someone’s vulnerability. And that, dear friends, is one excellent definition of what it means to be merciful and compassionate as Christ encourages us in today’s gospel.

Jesus, of course, is the master when it comes to mercy and compassion. I think it’s sobering in the extreme to pause now and then and think about your own life… your own weaknesses and sinfulness. Each of our faults actually makes us quite vulnerable. How? What if God were to decide that he can’t stand it anymore? That he’s tired of people making a fool of him… tired of our willful disobedience… tired of our disloyalty and disrespect… tired of us being his enemy? Why, he could strike us down in an instant!

Yet we know—we trust—that the Lord doesn’t operate that way… thank God! “As a father has compassion on his children,” says the psalm, “so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.”

So God gives us another chance… more time to wise up and turn ourselves around. He is patient with us. He gives us the benefit of the doubt so we can do better—just like any loving parent would do.

Not only does God want us to love him more, he also wants us to love each other more. That’s why he tells us to stop judging… stop condemning… start forgiving… start turning the other cheek.

If that sounds like a daunting turnabout, let me share with you some barnyard trivia.

A hundred years ago, a cow was considered outstanding if she produced 600 pounds of milk in one year. That works out to an average of about a pound-and-a-half a day. Today, even a so-so dairy cow easily gives 30 pounds of milk a day. That’s a 20-times jump! And it’s not unheard of to see a 70-times jump in production.

Another example is the farmer’s plain ol’ hen. Wild birds only lay 6 eggs a year, but cultivated hens can lay as many 365 eggs a year—that’s one a day.

The point is, just the way that animals have a natural capacity to expand, so do human beings. Just when we feel we have no strength or ability to give any more, the strength we need emerges.

So you think you can’t stop judging or condemning? You think you can’t forgive or turn the other cheek? Yes… you can.

This coming week, we will once again find ourselves beginning the holy season of Lent. Wouldn’t it be the best Lenten program in the world if we would promise to live out today’s beautiful lesson! If you start to think you can’t do it, just think of the cows and chickens.

May our good and merciful Lord fill your heart with his love and his grace and draw you ever closer to himself. Amen!