The Dawn Guardian:
A Sermon On Strength Through Vulnerability
This is where I gave my first sermon. I nearly fell into the fountain. We'll see if I fare a little better tonight. Anyhow, welcome one and all, and thank you for giving me a sliver of your evenings! If you do not know me, I am Seraphine Dhamarov, the High Priestess here in Gahlen. If you'd like to make my acquaintance, or have any questions, I promise there shall be ample time after the sermon! And without further delay...
The library in Surik is a dazzling place - it's filled with stories and histories, tales and fables, documents, records, paintings. Everything you can imagine, it's a wealth of knowledge, and when I visited recently, I decided to pour over some of the eldest Waylumi records that we possess. I ended up staying in the library the entirety of the day and most of the night. But never fear, I had plenty of tea and cucumber sandwiches and am rounder for my efforts.
But I digress. In these records, I found a curious account: whether it is history, the birth of some of the clergy's abilities, or merely a moral tale, I could not tell you - sometimes a story is just a story, and yet even these have their own power. Either way, I hope you enjoy the story of Alcuin, the Dawn Guardian.
Many years ago, when the world was a much younger place and all things were new and many yet unwritten, the three faiths were not so formalized as they are now. Rather, many were loose gatherings across Ateraan, united in a cause, but without the official mantles that we recognize now - and in some cases, there existed individuals touched by the Gods and inspired to take up their causes. A young man named Alcuin was one of the latter, a servant of Waylumi. When She came to him first, it was because of his prowess in battle and his Honor, which was known far and wide. He was as fierce in a fight as he was noble, and these qualities shone like a beacon to the Lady. 'You will be a shield to the world,' She told him gently, upon their first meeting.
And so he was.
Alcuin traveled the lands, fighting darkness and evil wherever he found it: he became a living legend, a hero to the people. But as he traveled the world, something began to happen to Alcuin. The more he saw of it, the more he lost heart in himself, and his own abilities. He saw the anger, the greed and the rage people possessed; he saw how poorly they often treated one another. He saw death and despair, savagery and cruelty, and he saw a world cloaked in soot and ash. He saw a world he didn't believe he could help to change, or save.
'Why do you ask me to fight for this world? It is beyond saving, and I am but one man against a tide of darkness,' Alcuin asked Waylumi one day, desperate to understand. Waylumi did not answer his question. Instead, She instructed him: 'My servant, you have lost faith, but it will be found. Walk into your next battle wearing no armour, and wielding no weapons.'
Alcuin was as startled as he was confused. 'I'll die without my armour to protect mortal flesh, and I am vulnerable without my sword to strike down my enemies and keep them at bay, my Lady. That's literally what I'm good for,' Alcuin argued. Each time her response was simple: 'Having a soft heart in a hard world is courage, not weakness.' Loyal man though he was, Alcuin failed to heed Waylumi's request not once, but twice.
He was afraid.
But on the third day, after hours of grueling fighting and many deaths on both sides of the field, Alcuin realized that he and his companions would lose this battle in its entirety if something did not change. And so he did something many of us can perhaps relate to - he took a leap of faith.
He was terrified, truly, as he walked to the front lines wearing only a simple grey tunic and a belt about his waist, scabbard empty. His men understood as little as he did, and as the hordes of the enemy approached, they saw their nemesis clad only in cloth and unarmed, and let forth a victorious howl as they fell upon him. But in this moment, two things happened in the very same breath.
The first: Alcuin closed his eyes, raised his hands high, and uttered a simple prayer to Waylumi. 'My life is yours, Lady,' he said, and surrendered everything to his goddess, sure he would feel the sting of steel any moment now.
The second: a golden nimbus descended from the sky to meet Alcuin's hands, surrounding him in a glow so bright that it made those who rushed upon him stop dead in their tracks. When their eyes adjusted, they realized he was clad in armor made not of steel or metal, but of pure Light. Not only was he protected from the swords and spears thrust his way, for they glanced off of this glowing shield, but he was surrounded at once by blades forged of that very same Light. In an instant, he realized he had been given command of these blades, and with them, through them, he struck down his foes.
And so two prayers we know well are given, at the very least, their own stories: Waylumi's protection, and the blades of light. But I did not share this tale to enlighten you about our prayers, as fascinating as I may find them. Rather, I shared it because I believe there is a lesson here - one Alcuin learned, and one that we must learn, too: the moment he allowed himself to be vulnerable, he became more than what he was.
Vulnerability is described twofold: it is 'the state of being capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon,' and also 'being open to moral attack, criticism, judgement' and so on and so forth. It's a quality so frequently labeled as a weakness that we often avoid it at all costs. We equate it with being naive, gullible, and worst of all, a lack of strength. We are taught from an early age that it is the opposite of vulnerability that we should seek out.
And I can understand why. Who wants to get hurt? Not I, certainly. I'm fairly squeamish about such things, as a general rule!
And yet I must wonder... is this story a parable about being the toughest man or woman in a fight? Or is it, instead, a story that reveals vulnerability to be more than a weakness? The moment that Alcuin set aside the things he used to guard himself and placed his faith in the divine is the very moment he became more than just a man with a sword.
Now, please understand fully, my dear friends. I am not advising any of you to go into battle unarmed or unarmored. If you do, do so at your own risk and please avoid the hippos! Vulnerability is like any other quality: if we do not measure it with Wisdom and with Vigilance, as Waylumi teaches us, we may find ourselves standing at the wrong end of it. There is a difference between being open and being a doormat - or being dead at the hands of an enemy.
Rather than reading this as a story of superior battle tactics, I would argue that this is an allegory for a truth that runs deeper: we are stronger when we open ourselves up than when we close ourselves off. This may sound counterintuitive, yes? But consider our most basic bonds. Think of someone you love, fiercely and truly. A brother, a sister, a parent, a child, a guildmate, a faithmate; think of a childhood friend, or grab the hand of your husband or wife here in the crowd, have a look at your significant other standing beside you. Honestly, take a second to think about whomever comes to mind. Picture them - there we go, I see some smiles now!" She grins at this, giving everyone a moment to search their own minds, if they so choose.
Very good, thank you. The reason you thought of this person wasn't based necessarily on their personal strength, but rather, on the strength of your bond with them. Or if you were thinking of Ronaldo's biceps, that's okay, too! But, more seriously, the way true bonds are formed between all beings is by opening ourselves up to one another. We grow, together, by making ourselves vulnerable, for vulnerability is an extension of Love, if nothing else.
And isn't this the paradox of vulnerability: what we want so much in others is the thing we fear them seeing most in us, because if we let them see it, we could get hurt. But it is this moment in which we know they may hurt us, but we allow them to see anyways, that trust is born. Few bonds are stronger than ones borne of vulnerability.
If you are not yet convinced there is merit here, let us take this logic a step further, and then even another. Let us look to our own guilds, and the cities in which they reside. When an immigrant arrives in Gahlen - as many of you will remember, they are met by the Ambassador, who calls upon them to swear fealty to the crown. It took me a good forty minutes to figure out how to do that properly. Though the Suden process is vastly different, when one joins a guild, I believe they swear themselves to the most honored Overseer, just as we pledge vows, oaths, and promises to the guilds we become a part of, and the families thusly created. Look further: just as we give ourselves, those of us who practice religion, to our deities.
In doing so, we are making ourselves vulnerable to every person above us in the proverbial food chain. To swear fealty to an overlord or a nation, a guild or a God, means trusting that your leadership, whether mortal or divine, will do right by both you and by whatever cause or purpose you have chosen. It means you trust them not to do you harm, to impede your progress without cause, or impede your duty... even though the moment you swear yourselves to them, you've given them the ability to do any of these things. Like the trust formed between two individuals, you have thusly created a most powerful bond through the simple act of making yourself vulnerable.
Who is stronger, truly? Look at the man who stands alone because he has cloaked himself in guardedness, in platemail forged of pride, gauntlets of untouchable control, a shield wrought from the subjugation of any who might do him harm, in any way shape or form? He likely spends his life unhurt, untouched.
He is safe, certainly. And yet he is not stronger for it. He's alone.
Look instead to the man who surrounds himself with those he loves, ones he trusts, and ones who have seen him at his best and accepted him at his worst. Look to the man who does not fear the truth of his own flaws, and has the courage to let himself see and be seen. Vulnerability sounds like truth, and in turn, it feels a lot like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness, and it is rare that things borne of both are faulty.
Vulnerability is the most authentic state of being. Being vulnerable means being open to pain, and hurt, uncertainty and wounding - but also for joy, companionship, duty, love, and faith. It is the door with which we open all these things, but it is not a door we should fear just because sometimes the unwanted lies beyond it.
Being open to the wounds of life means also being open to the bounty and beauty, and ultimately fulfillment in your mortal lives, and to spiritual transcendence beyond the mortal world. So if I can hope you take away from this sermon anything at all, it is the understanding that by your very natures, you are creatures of Love - your vulnerability, and I believe every person present here has experienced it in one form or another, is a mark of strength. Wear it with pride, and do not shy away from it.
Thank you.