This week's blog comes from Pastoral Intern Bethany Davey

I have been thinking a lot about risk. Since the inauguration, the day-to-day risks assumed by those of us who are immigrants, transgender, nonbinary and queer is heightened. The threat of violence is palpable, and there is fear in the air. I notice myself in a frequent state of hyper-vigilance, continually evaluating potential danger: what are the possible risks, and to whom? In some ways, this hyper-vigilance is expected, normal and human. In others, I may be considering risk in too narrow a vein. 

As our community discerned whether or not to welcome another guest into the apartment space, we necessarily considered the risks involved in this particular decision, to ourselves and to our guest. We needed—and need—to name our hesitations, anxieties, concerns and questions. We needed—and need—to acknowledge the possible risks in our collective Yes. And yet, in our emphasis on risks, we may miss the life-giving, nourishing, connecting possibilities present in the midst of risk. 

What might we risk in not risking?*

I’m reminded of the story of the rich man, in the gospels of Matthew (19:16-30) and Mark (10:17-31). In both tellings, the rich man asks Jesus what he needs to do to follow his ways, and leaves disappointed when Jesus says the man must sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. Often emphasized is the rich man’s sadness, and the difficulty of sacrificing one’s earthly stuff. What might be missed is this: were the rich man to choose to follow Jesus, he stands not only to lose, but to gain. To risk the loss of wealth is simultaneously to gain the life-giving, nourishing, connecting possibilities of communal life alongside Jesus. The risk to the rich man lies not only in dispossession; his risk also lies in his choosing not to risk.

Saying “yes” to welcoming another guest is one possible action in this moment, among a myriad of possible actions. Our Yes is not the only way possible, but it is one we have chosen. Saying “yes” to welcoming another guest is risky for us, and it is particularly (and especially!) risky for our guest. And yet, our Yes cannot be summed up solely as risk. Our Yes means we open ourselves to the beautiful, spacious, connecting, nourishing, sustaining, life-giving energies present in our web of interconnected, communal relationships. We may risk missing this particular experience of aliveness, if we chose not to risk.

Our Yes is a risk. A No can be another kind of risk: the risk in not risking. May the risk we have chosen continue to shape our understanding of this holy, interwoven web of life, of which all creation is a sacred part. The strands of this web hold us all. 

*My thanks to Josh D and Adam G, as conversations with each of them helped clarify this point for me.

Bethany