The Gift of the (Seemingly) Powerless

To avoid being buried alive, fairy tale author, Hans Christian Andersen, kept a note by his bed that said: “I only seem to be dead.” – from National Geographic Kids publication: Weird But True.

With the above in mind, I suggest, when we feel buried alive by a smirkingly insensitive, sexist, entrenched church hierarchy, we do the same. In notes like Andersen left, yes, but also in news columns, in blogs, in tweets, in email blasts, and in voices raised and prayers offered, we proclaim to those seemingly powerful oppressors: “We only seem to be dead!”

We also only seem to be powerless.

In his book, David and Goliath, Malcolm Gladwell makes some interesting points about power and what “seems” versus what “is”. He begins by stressing that the seemingly weak and powerless cannot only overcome overwhelmingly strong and forceful opponents and oppressors, but can actually come out amazingly enriched – and I would add blessed – by the struggle itself.

To prove this conviction, he lists two ideas he plans to explore in the book:

The first is that much of what we consider valuable in our world arises out of these kinds of lopsided conflicts, because the act of facing overwhelming odds produces greatness and beauty. And second, that we consistently get these kinds of conflicts wrong. We misread them. We misinterpret them. Giants are not what we think they are. The same qualities that appear to give them strength are often the sources of great weakness. And the fact of being the underdog can change people in ways that we often fail to appreciate: it can open doors and create opportunities and educate and enlighten and make possible what might otherwise have seemed unthinkable.

One main quality of underdogs he mentions is their firm, fervent, unshakable belief that they can ultimately triumph. Think of the Philadelphia Eagles’ fans in their underdog masks keeping faith in their own Super-Bowl-win-never-gonna-happen team and then watching the seemingly impossible happen right before their eyes.

“Overdogs” (Is there such a word??), on the other hand, are often so large, so overinflated with their own sense of power while at the same time so weighed down with their own rigidity and resistance, they often become defensive, immobile, and ultimately fatally vulnerable, perhaps unto death. Meanwhile, the perceived weak, with their small numbers and minimal chances of significant impact, can actually watch those weaknesses turn into untold strengths, furnishing them, according to Gladwell, with more “movement, endurance, individual intelligence, knowledge of the (territory), and courage.” With weaknesses now morphed into strengths, reformers and renewers can actually achieve the impossible – like changing a church – while at the same time transforming themselves, growing internally and externally more dynamic and more confident, their “spoils of war” manifested as rewards and blessings coming to them from within.

I often think about what the struggle itself has given me: a community of wise, wonderful, incredibly brave people, a truly ‘beloved community’; the opportunity to stand up against a grave injustice in the suppression of women and their gifts; a chance to sing, praise, and celebrate treasures so long unappreciated – maybe even buried alive.

Ah, but we all know those treasures well by now, and we know they only seemed to be dead and buried, for the gift of the seemingly powerless has been the just this: the grace to patiently, persistently and passionately keep them forever alive.