Let’s get tender

I have vivid memories of visiting El Alto, Bolivia, chewing on dried llama meat, and listening to Oscar Rea, the director of MCC partner La Fundación Comunidad y Axión (FCA), unpack his development philosophy.

FCA works with urban migrants on family greenhouse projects, yet instead of focusing his work only on resilience or resistance or food security, Oscar told us that his approach was to encourage a pedagogy of tenderness.  A pedagogy is an educational teaching method, and for Oscar, his method focuses on the recognition of the other and develops tenderness and care for oneself, others, and the earth as a fundamental part of development. Every small greenhouse we visited felt like an outpouring of that tenderness as families spoke less about their own needs and more about the connections between neighbours and the community they were growing, along with tomatoes and cucumbers.

Victoria Mamani Sirpa, an agricultural technician and teacher for Fundación Communidad y Axión visits Hilda Apaza Quispe’s, 40, greenhouse in El Alto, Bolivia. Hilda built the greenhouse with the support of Fundación Communidad y Axión, an MCC partner in El Alto, Bolivia Fundación Communidad y Axión, an MCC partner, works to improve access to nutritious food in El Alto, Bolivia by helping low-income families build greenhouses on their property. El Alto has an arid climate and harsh sunlight, which makes growing vegetables difficult. The greenhouses make it possible for families to eat healthy, organic foods without having to travel far on public transportation to buy vegetables that have been sprayed with chemicals. MCC Photo/Matthew Sawatzky

The phrase “pedagogy of tenderness” as stuck with me. It has been especially present in the last few weeks, especially as tenderness feels like the exact opposite of what I should be doing or encouraging these days.

I should be doubling down, staying informed, getting ready to defend my way of being, or at least Canada at any moment, as crisis and potential crisis become all-consuming. I need to be on at all times. This is no time to think outside our own needs as a nation. Yet the challenge we face is how not to get sucked into the vortex, complete with anxiety, despair, cynicism and burnout, contributing to global conflict and panic by our very responses to stop it.

Journalist and conflict expert Amanda Ripely says, “Our brain is not designed to deal with this kind of illusory, rippling fear. And we are doomed to live small, confining lives if we let this fear occupy us. We will mistreat one another, sabotage our cause and miss opportunities.”

Sounds like we need the opposite of our instincts. Perhaps, even, some tenderness.

As Anabaptists, we look to Jesus as our model. When faced with a world that seemed out of control, Jesus surprised. Jesus spent time with a wide variety of people, from the poor and marginalized to religious leaders to the wealthy. He kept people on their toes, never quite doing what was expected or assumed. In the middle of a storm, he walked on water. As an honoured guest, he washed feet. He was born in a stable and received gifts of gold. He told stories instead of speeches and turned water into wine. He brought out the best in people that others considered to be beyond hope, like tax collectors and soldiers, and overturned tables in his own religious establishment.

Throughout the gospels, the refrain is the same. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.

I am encouraging myself and those around me to stay tender. We can practice creating the conditions that allow people be their best selves, especially those we view as beyond hope. We can allow ourselves to be surprised instead of creating self-fulling prophecies. Can we try being curious in those places where we feel fear? At the very least, we can name and question our fears. Let’s focus on long-term goals rather than crisis responses. Let’s remind ourselves that we continue to care about those beyond our borders. At our best moments, we can seek laughter and joy with those around us, rather than outrage.

Here in Ottawa, we are working for policies that do the same: that encourage love for neighbour and justice for the vulnerable, at home and around the world, especially when we feel the most like doubling down on protectionist instincts. As people of faith, we believe that people can change, that we are called to love each other, and that mutual transformation is always at work.  We see it happening all around us, in places like Bolivia and beyond. El Alto is not the only place teaching us to be tender and to see the world anew.

Let’s open ourselves up to that tenderness as we seek the upside down, opposite kingdom of Jesus (and the opposite of our instincts) together.

Reflection questions: Where do you see tenderness or the possibilities for tenderness at play in your space? What are one or two practices you can do today to cultivate curiosity and joy instead of fear? How would you like to share that joy and tenderness with your global neighbours?