To be a minister means above all to become powerless, or in more

"To be a minister means above all to become powerless, or in more precise terms, to speak with our powerlessness to the condition of powerlessness which is so keenly felt but so seldom expressed by the people of our age." These profound words, spoken by Henri Nouwen, reveal the essential nature of ministry: not as a position of power, but as one of vulnerability and service. Nouwen’s reflection challenges the common understanding of leadership, especially in a world that often equates power with authority and influence. Instead, he argues that true ministry requires an embrace of powerlessness, a willingness to stand alongside those who are suffering, not as someone superior, but as someone fully human, willing to acknowledge their own weaknesses while offering compassion and understanding to others.

In the ancient world, the idea of powerlessness was not necessarily seen as weakness, but as a humbling force that could lead to deeper wisdom and connection with others. Consider the Socratic method, where Socrates himself embraced the position of the humble questioner, never claiming to have all the answers. Instead, he recognized his own ignorance and used that as a means of drawing others into a shared pursuit of knowledge. Socrates’ humility and vulnerability were his strengths, enabling him to teach others not through domination, but through mutual discovery. In much the same way, Nouwen’s vision of ministry is one where powerlessness becomes the gateway to deeper connection, a recognition of shared humanity rather than a separation between leader and follower.

This idea of powerlessness as strength is also found in the teachings of Jesus Christ, whose ministry was built upon the principle of self-sacrifice and humility. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus, like Nouwen’s ideal minister, understood that true power lies in vulnerability—in being willing to face suffering, to be with others in their struggles, and to offer one’s presence and compassion rather than solutions from a place of superiority. His life, like that of the minister described by Nouwen, was a continual offering of self-emptying, of standing in solidarity with those who felt powerless in the world.

Consider the story of Gandhi, who, in his pursuit of Indian independence, practiced a form of leadership that was rooted not in physical strength or military power, but in nonviolent resistance and humble service. Gandhi’s power came from his willingness to be powerless, to stand against the British Empire without the tools of violence, and yet to exert tremendous influence over the hearts and minds of millions. His ministry, so to speak, was not one of commanding authority, but of offering a vision of dignity and self-respect for the oppressed. Gandhi’s powerlessness was not weakness but the key to the moral strength that rallied a nation toward its freedom.

Nouwen’s concept of ministerial powerlessness suggests that it is in acknowledging and expressing our vulnerabilities that we become capable of true service. In modern times, we are often taught that to lead is to assert strength and dominance, to show that we are in control of the situation. But in the face of suffering, whether it be personal or societal, the most effective leaders are those who can sit with the pain, who can acknowledge the limits of their own abilities, and who can speak from a place of shared humanity rather than superiority. This is the power of empathy, of compassion—a power that transcends the traditional definitions of strength.

The lesson in Nouwen’s words is clear: true leadership and ministry come not from positions of power, but from places of vulnerability and humility. To serve others, especially those who are marginalized or in pain, is not to wield authority over them, but to meet them as equals, to share in their struggle and to speak with them from a place of shared powerlessness. This is not weakness; it is a deep, moral strength that comes from the acknowledgment of our shared human condition.

In practical terms, this means that we must seek to embrace vulnerability in our own lives and in our relationships. When we face difficulties—whether in our personal lives or in our communities—rather than seeking to appear strong and invulnerable, we should acknowledge our own powerlessness and limitations. This does not mean surrendering to despair, but it means recognizing that true strength lies not in isolation from others but in our solidarity with them. Whether we are leaders, caregivers, or friends, our ability to serve and to connect with others is rooted in the humility to stand alongside them in their struggles, offering not solutions from above, but presence and compassion from within.

Thus, let us take Nouwen’s wisdom to heart and seek to lead and serve with humility and compassion, knowing that the greatest power lies not in asserting our dominance, but in offering our presence, our understanding, and our vulnerability. In a world often divided by pride and competition, let us become ministers of empathy, standing with others in their powerlessness and offering our strength in service.