Finding Peace in Vulnerability

By Pierluigi Banna - Lessons from Abel, the White Flag, and Resting on the Master’s Chest

Finding out that you're not up to it — that's scary," says Abel Crow, the fearless gunslinger and protagonist of Baricco's latest novel.

He confesses to his master that he feels an ineradicable residue of fear: it's like a stone he tries unsuccessfully to hide deep within himself.

Everyone, sooner or later, confronts the fear of not being up to par. From children who begin to feel the weight of their parents' expectations on their small shoulders to the elderly who feel like burdens in a society with little place for them, and young adults increasingly fearing they're wrong and inadequate for this life.

This fear can settle like lead in the soul, making us harsh and ruthless towards those whose judgment we fear because such judgment could expose our profound vulnerability. Therefore, to defend ourselves from the potential threat of others, we might strike preemptively, without even looking them in the face, just as Abel does in his life.

He does it not so much to attack but to defend himself, almost instinctively, from the fear of not being up to par. Perhaps the origin of many conflicts at various levels‌ — ‌from personal relationships to work and even global conflicts‌ — ‌lies precisely in this feeling, where we all find ourselves, sadly, as more or less involved spectators.

Many desire peace for these conflicts, so why is the Pope almost mocked when he speaks about it? One answer might be that this fear remains dominant in the depths of our souls, almost always managing to have the last word. This is why Pope Francis' mention of the "courage of the white flag" is extremely uncomfortable for most people.

But what can truly dissolve fear? John Chrysostom recounts that a sense of fear if not suspicion, pervaded all the disciples during the Last Supper after Jesus announced that one of them would betray him. In this context, the bishop perceived a gesture that calmed their despair: Jesus allowed the beloved disciple to lay his head on his chest.

Chrysostom writes, "While everyone was troubled and anxious, and Peter himself was afraid, John, almost happy, leaned on Jesus' chest, not just leaning but resting." Amid general fear, an embrace that penetrates to the core and anticipates dissolves John's fear with a gesture of extreme tenderness. This forgiveness would be offered to all, even those who had betrayed. This simple gesture eradicates the shame of appearing fragile and the fear of not being up to the task.

Only when you surrender, disarmed, to an embrace that anticipates forgiveness, regardless of what may happen, does the judgment of others cease to have the menacing face of an enemy. How might John look at his fellow disciples from that unique position? How did the disciples view each other, seeing John so at peace and joyful? The deeper you sink into the embrace, the more you begin to question how the fragility of a brother, different from you, can be embraced, just as yours was. And perhaps, as you ponder this, you feel a certain sympathy towards others, not so much for what they've done or could do, but simply because they exist. From this sympathy, deeper than any suspicion or division, may suddenly emerge the grace to reach out to an enemy, to affirm an experience that unites us before any actual agreement: you and I both need someone, that master, on whom to rest our heads.

On the other hand, in Baricco's novel, Abel's fear melts away as soon as he tenderly lets his head sink into the master's chest. I don’t know if the author from Turin was aware of the Gospel scene of the disciple with his head bowed. I do know for certain that for every person in this world, the beginning of personal and social peace can come from finding a presence on which they can finally rest their heads. It's a grace because it is incredibly rare to meet someone who doesn't judge us or shrink from our vulnerabilities but instead envelops us with a mysterious warmth, capable of dissolving every fear of not being up to par and making us feel already forgiven.

It's always a surprise when, even today, we find Christians who talk about their relationship with Christ as a beloved presence on which they can still base their lives today, just as John once did. The message of the Easter announcement, especially in these times, might resonate as the unexpected testimony of a man who approaches his enemy to say: "Come, I have found the master where you too can rest your head."

Unrevised translation by the author - Milan April 2024