Acceptance of the person…requires a tolerance of imperfection.[i]
My parents are very traditional when it comes to etiquette and, as a result, they passed these social rules to me as I grew up. For one, I was to call an adult by Mister, Misses, Miss, Doctor, Father, etc. This was no problem. But, I became disgruntled learning proper dinner table etiquette. I admit to being quite frustrated with the constant reminders of how to use utensils, keep my mouth closed while chewing, and pass dishes politely. And yet, those lessons formed the way I eat today; I don’t really think about it. I was also corrected when I used a word incorrectly.
This is not really etiquette but it does reflect on how people see you in the world. For instance, I would be corrected if I was doing “good” instead of “well.” I was not pleased when my improper use of the English language was pointed out, over and over again. I thought to myself, and sometimes to my parents, is this really important? As a know-it-all adolescent, I believed that the proper use of a fork, or the precise use of English was not an important part of life. I told myself, back then, that I would not be as strict as my parents when it came to these lessons. Being belabored by parents, for whatever reason, is not something anyone remembers fondly. Why would I want to elicit these feelings in the next generation? Only as I matured did I realize how obvious, and at times grating, breaking social customs can be. When I hear someone using incorrect English or leaning on the table while eating, I cringe. I am particularly sensitive to the wearing of hats while inside, particularly while at a dinner table. I think this is due to my dad pointing out others wearing hats, when we were at restaurants together. I told myself I wouldn’t care how people spoke or the manners they used, but then, each infraction seems to call out to me. No matter my adolescent promises to the contrary, in my years of working with young people, I found myself correcting English usage. I pointed out the difference between “can and may” and shuddered when I heard someone say, “me and John or Susan or whomever.” Only now, do I realize the important lessons learned from my parents’ diligent reminders to be respectful, courteous, and articulate.
That being said, today’s lesson from Hebrews and our Gospel lesson from Luke point out that our efforts to be socially acceptable and our inherent self-centeredness that assumes that we are more important than anyone else, often get in the way of our relationship with God. Jesus warns that judging someone on the way they use a fork or speak the language is a poor excuse for not being hospitable. And yet, our first impressions of someone are often the guiding principle that informs the way we act toward those we encounter in our lives. The passage from Hebrews calls on us to be hospitable to a stranger, because in doing so, “we entertain angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13.2) This seems to be quite an easy proposition. Very few people would publicly admit to not being hospitable to all varieties of people. But as we are consumed by our own existence, we often miss seeing the stranger. They are the nameless people who intersect our lives, but dissolve into the background of our awareness. They are so often, if not always, there, but we are unaware that they even exist: we don’t know how they live or what they truly need from us. These are the people who check our food at the market or pick up the trash at the metro, or secure our buildings. We often assume these faceless individuals didn’t work as hard as we did, or were not blessed with our level of intelligence, or didn’t have the same family ethic that helped us reach our pillar of excellence. But Hebrews calls us to not think of these other people in such a derogatory way. Instead, we are to step into their shoes and encounter them, as we would want to be encountered. Instead of letting them dissolve into the background, we should invite them to join us.
In today’s gospel lesson, we hear Jesus teach about the human inclination to think too highly of ourselves, what we call pride. Often, we are so full of pride that we assume that we are the most important person in the room or that the world revolves around our needs. This sense of self-importance goes hand in hand with the inability to recognize others in our life.
A few years ago, when perusing the vast number of television options, I happened on a hidden camera reality show shot in an airport. It seemed to be a regular show, but I only saw it that one time. The producers shot real life conflicts between disgruntled travelers and the airline representatives. In the episode that I watched, one situation resulted from the cancellation of a flight and the reaction of one of the passengers. Having experienced this before, I know how aggravating it can be. The passenger yelled, argued, and threatened the employee. The agent, obviously used to such behavior and trained to deal with it, calmly explained the situation and presented available options. The passenger’s anger escalated and began what appeared to be a temper tantrum directed at this poor innocent agent, someone who dissolves into the background of our existence. It got louder and louder before, finally, the passenger was led away. The person seemed to consider his inconvenience as more significant than the 100s of other stranded at the airport. When the airline employee was unwilling to respond to him as more important than others, he became more irate.
It is quite often the case that we want to situate ourselves in a prime position to reap the most reward; to get what we assume is our prize in the race of life. Whether it is at the airport, on the road, or in our vocation, we pursue position without considering those around us. We push the buttons expecting that we can coercively manipulate the situation to our advantage. We do this because it often, in the short term, works. The squeaky wheel gets attention. Jesus warns us that this kind of advantage seeking or bullying is not the way of God’s Kingdom.
In order to attain the exultation of God, one must be humble. One must be able to step into another shoes (Hebrews says to remember those in prison, as though you were in prison with them), and make decisions not for one’s own purposes, but for the good of the whole. One must acknowledge imperfection, and respect the imperfection of others, and not expect to live extraordinarily.
I began this sermon by quoting the late Robert Greenleaf, leadership expert and author of the book Servant Leadership. He wrote, “Acceptance of the person…requires a tolerance of imperfection.”[ii] No matter what someone does, or how someone speaks, or what social customs someone breaks, to be true, in the eyes of God, one must tolerate that person’s imperfection. We expect it for ourselves, why shouldn’t we give it in return. Greenleaf’s thesis is that to become a true leader of people, one must forget about the power of position, must forget about forcing oneself into the advantage and instead must be in the trenches to come to know the truth and to gain trust.
The same is true of God’s kingdom. The more we try to show ourselves as extraordinarily special, we, also, lose the truth. We forget that we are all in need of forgiveness, that we are all the same in the eyes of God, and that to find God, one must lose one’s pride for the good of all.
When I was growing up, I owned a bumper sticker that I came to know as truth. It read, “It’s Hard to Be Humble in Nebraska.” So as a Nebraskan, I, for one, know how difficult it can be to let go of our importance and encounter the world as one of the least. But the benefits of seeing each person as an equal, of jumping off our self-created pedestal, is finding the core of God’s Kingdom. It doesn’t exist in being extraordinary (even though we all believe that is the prize); God’s Kingdom exists in celebrating our ordinariness, the qualities that make us all one. When we get to know the world from in the midst of it (from the perspective of others), we may, finally, understand the great gift that Jesus taught. “For those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 14.11)
August 29, 2010
Proper 17C
Hey, great essay...your perception on humility is persuasive, especially from a Christian perspective. In my personal experience though, humility usually can only be exhibited from a position of power. That superior power can result from rank, financial strength, legal knowledge, physical prowess, intellectual ability, etc. etc.. You as a teacher, may feel a duty to instruct your students on humility, but as a unique individual you probably fall into the odd paradox of boasting of your own humility, while supposedly, objectively preaching on it. (And around we go!) Due to the fragmented nature of the human psyche, there is probably no way for you to know at any given moment where the majority of your motivation comes from regarding this strange phenomenon.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I feel that humility is an endearing trait. It may help you win friends, a wife, and hypothetically, according to you, a possible ticket to Heaven. But from my perspective, humility is a form of fraud; and more importantly a waste of time. Every individual believes that at the moment of any voluntary physical action they are acting in the right. This truth applies to Presidents and preachers and all the way down to rapists and murderers. Physical actions are digital, not analog. You either do it or you don't. For an advantaged individual to exhibit humility before or after an event is a human behavior meant to ingratiate oneself to the listener. From my understanding, (which is itself a culturally learned cliche of humility) a politician or reverend may win support by showing humility, but it has no impact on the moral correctness of his or her actions. Of course, this obviously implies that morality is not relative, which I tend to believe. Now, if you accept at face value that the Bible informs us that humility has inherent worth that is somehow spiritually connected to who we are, then so be it. (If the Bible says it, I guess it must be true!) I believe though that humility is a defense mechanism that works in the same way as a dog that rolls over and shows you his belly. I believe a dog does this to prove that he means you no harm and wants no harm in return. Of course, what do I know? Your humble servant who wishes you no harm.