Where Love Meets Us
Feeling slightly (or more) unloved? May I suggest this section from Rabbi Brian's Highly Unorthodox Gospel?
5:6 WHERE LOVE MEETS US
One day, after swearing me to secrecy, a friend, stammering and sheepish, admitted she was experimenting with wearing a binder to flatten her chest, hoping to present as less female.
She also told me she was considering taking voice lessons to sound more masculine—or at least more gender-ambiguous.
She feared was that my knowing these things would make me love her less.
It was the opposite, of course.
Hearing her vulnerability made me love her even more.
==*==
Portland, Oregon 2017
In the course of getting acquainted over some kombucha—I live in Portland, after all—Ron, a minister I had met recently, referenced Luther’s Theology of the Cross.
He spoke of it as though it was something I knew.
It wasn’t.
“Can you explain that simply?” I asked.
I figured my guess—Theology of the Cross: the God beliefs (theology) of those who are perennially irked (the cross)—while clever, wasn’t what was lighting him up.
Ron, excited to share—like me bragging about my children—explained Luther’s idea beautifully:
God meets us and loves us in our most vulnerable places. That is to say, God doesn’t care about where we are big, puffy, important or proud.
God loves us where we are embarrassed, ashamed,
lowly, broken.
I liked it. (And, yes, I know what a ridiculous antisemite Luther was. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have some good thoughts.)
Where we are most broken is where (ironically?) we are in need of and capable of taking in the most love.
If you’ve never seen Brené Brown’s TED talk on vulnerability, I implore you to watch it right now. She talks about how it takes courage to be vulnerable, and how it is only in being vulnerable that we can feel truly accepted.
Brené Brown:
Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.
The dark side of the Protestant work ethic, patriarchy, mandates that we ought not let the world see our troubles.
But that’s silly.
A more human approach is required.
When you are angry, be angry. When you are sad, be sad. When you feel broken, feel broken. I’m not talking about indulging any of these feelings. Nor am I talking about taking your feelings out on others.
I’m talking about being honest.
Vulnerable.
The more we see someone as human, the more we are able to love them.
Conversely, the more we dehumanize people into caricatures and stereotypes, the less loving and crueler we can be to them. The more we see someone’s courage, the more we see their heart, the more we see their passion, and the more we love them.
We are loved, especially loved, where we are broken, where we need the most love.
Be human.
Be vulnerable.
==*==
Portland, Oregon 2024
I meet Edward outside the supermarket. He looks dirty, down on his luck. “Can I buy a cigarette off you?” I ask and continue, “All I have is a $5, though.” He looks up to assess if I’m bullshitting. I’m not. His countenance lifts to near joy as I hand him the five. After he lights the cigarette he sold to me, I notice the tattoos across his fingers, and I ask him about them.
He puts his fists together to show me. I see one letter on each finger. It reads: “G” “O” “D” “♡” “U” “G” “L” “Y.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
He tells me Luther’s Theology of the Cross, but in different words:
God loves ugly. God on Earth had the choice of who to hang with. And God picked to be with the losers.
That sinks in, and I think about what I’m doing right now—who I’m standing with, elevating with $5 and compassion.
==*==
You know that thing you do that makes you feel like you aren’t loveable?
You are loved there.
You know that other thing that you don’t like people to know about?
You are loved there, too.
Indeed.
With love,
💙rB
BUY THE BOOK
FREE US SHIPPING UNTIL AUGUST 31.