'The divine seed needs nourishing through seeking the best for others, especially the vulnerable.' Photo: Ian T Edwards / flickr CC.

Mark Bredin reflects on being human, compassion and the vulnerable

Being human and priest

Mark Bredin reflects on being human, compassion and the vulnerable

by Mark Bredin 13th January 2017

The image of a divine seed within every human being is a central one for Quakers. Seeds need nourishment in order to grow. Lack of nourishment leads the seedling to wither. The divine seed needs nourishing through seeking the best for others, especially the vulnerable. Quakers believe that the divine seed within us is calling us to be as God intended: to be human and priest.

George Fox believed that all humans are priests when offering acts of mercy (Quaker faith & practice 19.31). According to Fox, Jesus teaches that to be human is to bear the burdens and vulnerabilities of others. Jesus acts as priest in forgiving and bearing the sins of others. To be human is to be a priest. It is to care for others with no selfish thought. Jesus calls all to the priesthood.

Giving care

Our society is not structured to encourage mercy. This is evident in the low status we give to caregiving. Shockingly, we entrust the care of susceptible loved ones to people we pay as little as we can get away with. What does that tell us about our values? I’ve worked both as a university theology lecturer and a caregiver to vulnerable people and was shocked by the responsibilities of being a care worker on minimum wage. This involved waking people and assisting them in all areas of personal care. We often had our hair grabbed or were spat upon.

We would administer medication, sort out money, cook, do the shopping and washing as well as clean the house, tick boxes, be a taxi service and assist with residents’ money. We would check water temperatures and test the alarms. We also coordinated appointments for our clients so that they could see relevant professionals and arrange visits with family. This is just a sample of the duties involved.

I recall addressing student ministers and priests about caregiving. A student said to me: ‘I admire people like you for doing that kind of work. I couldn’t do it!’ I was, naively, shocked. I replied: ‘Could you not wash another person’s hair or feet? Does Jesus not commend a woman for massaging his head with oil? Does Jesus not wash feet? Does he not touch lepers, the dead, the filthy and the contagious, without writing a risk assessment or worrying about himself?’ To do so is to be a priest.

A channel of compassion

Jesus shows what it is to be human and priest. Some friends foster damaged teenagers. When they told me what they do, I said: ‘Wow! I couldn’t do that!’ because their work involves walking the city streets at night looking for the teenage girl that has not come back; it is being ready to have your television thrown from one end of the room to the other; it is to care knowing that a teenager could make false accusations against you.

I work as a prison chaplain. Suffering is not hidden easily in prison and most staff and prisoners are attentive to vulnerable people. Such awareness can lead to exploitation. But I focus on the positive, which outweighs the negative. Many of the people I work with in prison respond compassionately because the seed within them cries out to be human through helping and responding to the needs of others.

One day I was asked by an officer to find a radio for a vulnerable prisoner. She thought I would have more success because I would visit more parts of the prison than her. As the day wore on I had, alas, not been able to locate such a precious gem. Finally, I visited a prisoner, who made me tea. As we sat talking in his cell he asked me about my day and I told him about the radio. He gave me his radio. I was enriched by this prisoner’s act. He himself had been helped in his time by the kindness of others. He had, through his actions, become a channel of compassion.

Another prisoner was suffering greatly and the prison staff were doing what they could do to help. This went on for a long time until he was moved into a cell with another prisoner known to be caring. I knew both prisoners well and I was not surprised that the vulnerable prisoner began to improve. Ten months later the prisoner is now a different person, contributing to the prison community in a caring way. The officers helped greatly in assisting this environment of kindness.

Living for others

I finish with a story told by Jesus. It’s not an easy story to listen to because what it tells us is against our selfish inhumanity. On one occasion when talking about this story, a man got very cross with me and said Jesus’ story had no meaning to him. You will find a version of this tale in Matthew 20:1-16. I will give an account of this story with my own spin:

A landowner needed workers for a day and knew there’d be unemployed men in the town square. He saw the men waiting to be hired and, naturally, chose the strongest. He saw some of those he didn’t choose were weak, elderly, too young, emaciated, or had various disabilities. He told the men he was hiring what he’d pay them, and they agreed. As the morning passed he decided he needed more men. He also felt sad for those men who he had left behind and wondered what would become of them.

So, he returned to the town and hired more men. But still there were many who waited hoping for work. He felt frustrated for them. If they didn’t get work they would die. With one hour of light left, he decided to go back to the town, and saw weak and disabled men still waiting to be employed. As he was looking at them, someone said to him: ‘They’re useless, a waste of space.’ The landowner went to them and asked: ‘Why are you standing around doing nothing?’ The men replied: ‘We just want to work but no one will hire us.’ The man knew that they were not strong men, but he hired them. He didn’t tell them what he’d pay them because he hadn’t really given it much thought.

When it came to paying the workers, the landowner wondered about the ones he’d hired late in the day: they’d hardly done a thing. Paying them for one hour was hardly going to help them, so he decided to pay them the same as those who had worked all day.

Those who’d worked all day were furious, for they’d expected to be paid more. The landowner pointed out that what he’d done was not wrong. He had not treated badly those who had worked all day; he’d simply shown compassion to those who could barely walk.

This story is about being human. It is not to see the world in terms of what I can get for myself, but to help those who are vulnerable. I believe to care for others is the way to water the seeds in us. If we aren’t our sister or brother’s keeper, we will be lost. When that inner-seed in us cries out to care we too often push it back and bury it in self-centred thinking and actions.

I was recently at an Orthodox service where a friend was ordained to the priesthood. In the service I reflected on being a priest. To be a priest is to be a human who lives for others. My friend said to me: ‘Theosis is kenosis.’ This means that being absorbed into God (theosis) is to give to others until it hurts (kenosis).

The bishop, in addressing my friend, emphasised prayer as the work of a priest. I have to pray to care and be ready to give of myself until it hurts. My life must embrace prayer and silence, listening to the divine seed within me that demands I give.


Comments


Thank you for the very compassionate article. But at the very end I was surprised when you said that kenosis is ‘giving to others until it hurts’. I always understood it to have to do with emptying, and found this definition: “In Christian theology, kenosis (Greek: κένωσις, kénōsis, lit. emptiness) is the ‘self-emptying’ of one’s own will and becoming entirely receptive to God’s divine will.” So no hurt is necessarily involved!

By JohnE on 25th January 2017 - 17:04


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