Fragile is a word that keeps following me around.
In a recent evaluation, one of my members said that my congregation is delightfully fragile. He meant tender, not fixed; he meant open, not closed; he meant safe for vulnerability. It was a compliment, not a complaint.
Then at a conference on developing a new spiritual narrative for the 21st century, it resurfaced: “We live in a fragile universe, which some say has only five more years to fix itself.” I thought that hyperbolic, but then again no one has ever accused me of not excelling at denial.