
Sermons from Saint John’s
Vulnerability
Just before I left for vacation, movie theaters around the world began showing the epic action fantasy film The Odyssey. Has anyone seen it? I haven’t. And in fact, I forgot my copy of The Odyssey at home, so I didn’t even read any Homer on the beach. But I did read an adaptation that I hadn’t read before: a novel by Natalie Haynes entitled A Thousand Ships, a re-telling of the stories of the Trojan War from the perspectives of the women involved. It’s a great book, a powerful reminder of the horrors that lurk behind these stories of war. And it reminded me of one of the ironies of epic tales: the heroes involved are often physically very strong and emotionally very fragile. Most of the first half of the Iliad consists of Achilles pouting over a slight; I don’t want to spoil the ending of The Odyssey for anyone who hasn’t found time to read it in the last 3000 years, but I can’t help but think that it would’ve ended a little differently if Odysseus could gather up the courage to talk to his wife. The ultimate Homeric hero is Achilles, who is almost entirely invulnerable; but the “almost” makes all the difference. He’s almost completely safe from harm, but can be killed by an arrow to the heel; he’s completely unmoved by the victims of his violence, but his world is completely shattered by the death of his best friend. For all his invulnerability, he’s a very vulnerable man. The Bible has its own fragile heroes of this kind. But its central stories are different; they’re stories in which vulnerability itself is the source of strength.

