In Praise of Rational Fear

and what not to say to someone feeling it

Dear friends

I know what it is to fear. I have been fearful about: the safety of my child throughout the years; not being offered life-saving medical treatment because of my frailty score during the early pandemic years and being assumed to want a DNA because of my disability; dying, while being rushed to hospital in an ambulance. I have known post-election fear, too, as so many are experiencing now. Each time I have expressed a specific fear, someone well-meaning will say, ‘Don’t worry about it’ or ‘God is in control, trust in God’, or ‘it might never happen.’ Underlying those phrases is an assumption that what you fear won’t happen, perhaps because it has never happened to them, or if it does happen, it won’t be that bad, because they believe in a world where things turn out okay.

So often in my life, people have said, ‘but why are you going to the worst case scenario?’, and it’s because the worst case scenario has happened to me, and then it’s happened again. I am more fearful about health matters than my friends who have never known significant disability. I am less fearful about losing money than my friends who struggle weekly to pay their bills. Our past experiences affect our fear.

Too often, we treat rational fear as if it were irrational, and so all we have to do is reassure. We say, ‘It won’t be that bad’, because we can’t believe it will be that bad. We act as though our job is to take away the feeling of fear, and so that’s why we tell others it will all be okay. But fear is the emotion that alerts us to danger, and the reality is that for many of us, life is dangerous. This week, I’m all too aware of my specific American friends who have great justification to be afraid of a Trump presidency. I’m also aware of disabled friends in the UK who are afraid of the implications of disability cuts that our new Labour government have said they will make and others who are worried about the budget’s implications for their businesses. Wider, I think of Ukraine, Gaza, South Sudan who are ravaged by war, those affected by severe flooding in Spain, America, the Philippines, Nepal, and many other countries, while I enjoy peace and a dry house.

This week, I’ve noticed on social media that those (e.g. in Britain) who are worried about Trump’s election because of a more general issue (the threat to the environment, world affairs, how it will influence the economy etc) have more quickly found ways to process their fear than the people whose lives it will more directly affect. This is also true of the pandemic – those who got Covid mildly and noticed no long-term effects tend to fear Covid a lot less than those of us who are still masking in public because we know we could die or become disabled through one infection.

We need to acknowledge that being able to process our fear quickly is a position of privilege, not an indication of virtue. It’s the difference between standing on the beach and being worried about shark infested waters in general, and actually swimming surrounded by sharks. The beach-dwellers don’t have the right to tell the shark-swimmers not to fear.

This is why a far better thing to say to those who fear is not, ‘God’s in control’ but ‘How can I protect you?’ This also shifts the focus away from the emotion to the danger itself. It carries an inherent call to action on the part of the comforter, and is more challenging and demanding, which is perhaps why it is easier to reach for the platitudes than offer sacrificial action. I’m reminding myself of that challenge today.

The Wisdom of the Fearful - Cole Arthur Riley

This week, I have been soaking up the words of Cole Arthur Riley, who is a Black American writer. She approaches Christian spirituality with the fresh sight of someone who has experienced disability, trauma, poverty, chronic illness, racism and homophobia and who knows more than most the danger of just living in her body. Her New York Times bestselling memoir, This Here Flesh, is stunningly good writing which reminded me of the literary prowess of the great Toni Morrison, telling a multi-generational story of herself, her father and grandmother interwoven with ‘old-soul’ insight about belonging and identity. It is packed full of wisdom and is a powerful story told in fragments. I heartily recommend it.

Cole has a chapter on fear, and I am still pondering her take on Psalm 23. She writes:

Whenever my great-aunt was fed up, she used to mumble, I might be limpin through the valley of the shadow of death… What I skipped over in the psalm she was referencing time and time again is the sacred praxis it begins with. The psalmist says, “He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters.”

I find it beautiful that in the face of terror, God doesn’t bid us toward courage as we might perceive it. Instead, he draws us toward fear’s essential sister, rest – a sister who is not meant to replace fear but to exist together in tension and harmony with it. For fear’s origin is not evil, though evil certainly wields it against our souls daily. – Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh, ‘Fear’

It is an intriguing thought that the solution to fear is not courage but rest. Certainly fear is exhausting, as it means you constantly have to anticipate what might happen and use all your creative and logical thinking to find every possible solution – a demand on the emotional and rational parts of our mind. Being able to rest despite fear is also dependent upon others.

Here is another quote from Cole about why defeating fear is a communal project,

We stave off fear in its most dangerous forms when we allow our agony to be held safely by a number of others… Who will tremble with you when you feel your insides pressing against your chest and your hands start to dance and your voice becomes another voice? Who will put you to sleep? You re not foolish to fear. You are foolish not to. – Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh, ‘Fear’

A Person who Fears – Jenny Rowbory

Also on my mind this week has been Jenny Rowbory, a poet and very dear friend of mine, who has just produced a shorter documentary (30 minutes) about what a day in her life looks like. Her world is limited to her bed, and she cannot move her head to the side or turn over in bed. Watch it here.

I keep on telling everyone ‘you have GOT to watch this.’ It gets more and more compelling as the video goes on, and I found her grace and dignity in the face of severe disability absolutely mind-blowing. I also want everyone to watch it because she is in significant danger and needs the entire community to help.

So I’m asking everyone who reads this newsletter – please, watch it, share it with someone else, and consider how you could help Jenny (either by donating, doing a fundraiser, or somehow getting this seen by someone who has a lot of money and could help immediately). It’s a lot of money and she is worth every penny. Find a link to her fundraiser here. Let’s give her rest from her pain and suffering.

Prayers for Those Who Fear

Cole’s second book is called Black Liturgies: Prayers, poem and meditations for staying human, and it follows the same chapter topics as her memoir (e.g. Dignity, Body, Calling, Fear, Lament, Joy etc) but this time with honest prayers of different kinds. It’s important to note that ‘Black Liturgies’ does not imply ‘liturgies for only Black people’ but written with the perspective of a Black person for all people, rather than most of our liturgy which is written by ‘dead white men’, as she puts it.

Here is a life-giving prayer she wrote on fear, which I invite you to use, wherever you are. (Her words, my formatting).

FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO RUN AND HIDE

Wise God,

Break the false belief in us that all fear is the enemy. When danger in the world comes for us, make trepidation our ally. Focus our fear on the real. Free us from the shame heaped on victims, and reveal the manipulation of the oppressors who claim our worry is irrational.

Remind us that fear and wisdom have a sacred relationship, developing our intuition as a spiritual gift.

Show us how to fear for others out of love.

Replace the derision of our child fears with tenderness, leading us into memory that honors the wise trembling of our youth. Do not let fear keep us in perpetual flight, but let it usher us into community, drawing us into the safe embrace of others. Amen. – Cole Arthur Riley, Black Liturgies, ‘Fear’

And for anyone who is overwhelmed by fear today, a ‘breath prayer’:

Breathe

INHALE: I will not be silenced by fear.

EXHALE: A quivering voice is still sacred.

INHALE: God, my soul trembles.

EXHALE: Steady me in your arms.

INHALE: I will meet this fear with rest.

EXHALE: God, steady me in your arms

– Cole Arthur Riley, Black Liturgies, ‘Fear’

Do let me know what has spoken to you through this newsletter and share the link for this Substack if you found it helpful.

• What are you afraid of right now?

• What, if anything, is helping?

• What do you need?

Tanya

P.S. Do buy both of Cole Arthur Riley’s magnificent books from your nearest bookshop - This Here Flesh and Black Liturgies. Check out her website here.

P.P.S. Don’t forget to watch Jenny’s video here.