Dancing with a Limp

Photo by Adarsh Kummur on Unsplash

By Andrea Lingle

By Andrea Lingle

For me, disappointment is a shaming experience. It is rejection and how-could-you wrapped in a head-down slouching retreat. Erik Erikson described the work of early childhood as developing a sense of autonomy. The failure of autonomy is internalized shame and doubt.

There was a man who failed to grow in stature or courage. He lived his life attached to power, not caring that his life was lived at the expense of others. His collections made him as rich as he was despised. He had hoped that his wealth would elevate him where nature had not, but he found that success built on the backs of others is lonely.

This small man heard of a teacher who spoke of living generously. The teacher was followed by a band of the repulsive: stinking fishermen and shepherds, business and relationship failures, and those whose minds and bodies were sick and broken. This was a congregation of the disappointed.

But the rumor was that together they laughed and cried and danced.

Everywhere this teacher went, there followed a company of those whom the grinding world had undone who, nevertheless, bubbled with life. Their hair was dirty and their nails broken by work, but their hearts seemed gentle and the din of their dancing feet could be heard across the country.

And Zacchaeus needed to know why.

Zacchaeus’s home, purchased with his cut of that which was rendered unto Caesar, was an airy second floor home aligned with the breeze, gloriously cool on a summer evening. His balcony overlooked the outer wall of the city and the olive orchards beyond. He saw the dust of the approaching crowd from his windows long before he made it to the main street. Shoulders and backs towered over his head as the townspeople pressed him backward. No friend beckoned him forward. No merchant bowed to his need. He was alone at the edge of a promise.

Zacchaeus is a familiar story. The man who was unable to see Jesus climbed a sycamore tree to get a view of the ineffable. And he wasn’t disappointed. Jesus not only saw him, but he honored his table by coming to Zaqcchaeus’s home to eat; the hated tax collector brought into visibility by Jesus. Out of the shame and disappointment of Zacchaeus’s life comes the joy of acceptance.

I find myself dissatisfied with this. The fulcrum that turns disappointment into Sacred Disappointment isn’t just moving from despair to happiness when something good happens. It is recognizing that the disappointment is part of the fullness of life. Zacchaeus encountered Jesus and realized that he had had a failure of autonomy. Not that he had failed to become autonomous, but that being autonomous had failed. Meeting Jesus did not make Zacchaeus into an Adonis, and I doubt his post-Jesus generosity made him into an instant crowd favorite. Meeting Jesus made Zacchaeus realize that what he could gather for himself was insufficient for an abundant life. He needed a community, and community had always rejected him. Perhaps this was his moment of Sacred Disappointment. The road forward for Zacchaeus would have been long and hard. He would have to face those he had cheated and ask for their forgiveness and acceptance.

That is the trick about Sacred Disappointment. We must join in the dance of the Trinity, but we must learn to dance with a limp.