Almighty God, may you guide us to seek your Truth –
come whence it may, cost what it will, lead where it might. Amen.
It’s
hard to believe that we’re more than halfway through the season of Lent
already. The focus of the sermons in Lent has been on disrupting the religious
routinism that it is so easy to fall into. Religious routinism is about
treating our faith as, well, routine: something done without much thought or
passion. Things that are routine are dull, predictable, and monotonous – words
that should never describe the vibrancy that faith is supposed to be about. But
because our lives are so full and busy and because our world is so complex,
sometimes we slip into routinism because that’s all we can manage. This Lent, we
have considered some ways to break out of routinism – by committing to
wakefulness, interconnectedness, mightiness, and today we will consider the
commitment to humbleness.
To
be humble comes from a root word meaning “to bend or bow,” “to do reverence,”
or “to be modest.” Humility is about your posture, both physically and
mentally. Someone who is humble has a right view of themselves in relation to
others. Humility is not about thinking that you belong on the bottom rung of
the ladder, but it about knowing where the right placement is. Humility is not
self-deprecation nor is it about elevating yourself above others. Humility is
about recognizing that it is true that you are a beloved child of God, while also
recognizing that so is everyone else.
As
I have said of all of these Lenten practices to break us out of routinism, this
is a commitment to humbleness, not simply a thought-experiment. A commitment to
humility is so important in breaking out of religious routinism because
humility reminds us of our need for God. Having a humble posture towards life
reminds us that God is God, and we are not. And if we are not God, then we are
not perfect, we are not finished products, we are not done growing. There is
always more to learn, always a new perspective to see, always a new way to
encounter the love of God. But when you’re stuck in routinism, things get set
on auto-pilot. And when we approach faith as a routine, we hear about God’s
love without understanding, we look at Creation without seeing God’s grace all
around, we say prayers to God instead of speaking with God.
Humbleness
is so difficult in our culture of self-promotion. It is so easy to take things
for granted – for the gift of life, for the gift of grace, for the air we
breathe, for the beauty of the prayers given to us by the Prayer Book. We are taught that independence is a virtue, that
pulling yourself up by your own boot straps is a show of strength, that we can
solve all of our problems with more information. But these are lies. A commitment
to humbleness is a commitment to God, realizing that all that we have comes
from God. A commitment to humbleness is a commitment to each other, realizing
that our common life depends upon one another’s toil. A commitment to
humbleness is a commitment to recognizing the limits of our humanity, that we
don’t have all of the answers.
How
much of our lives though are spent trying to chase things that we can never
grasp? Being humble is related to being content, to trusting in God’s good
will, to reorienting our life to God’s love instead of fame, power, or wealth.
The beloved 23rd Psalms speaks of this: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.” If the Lord is our shepherd, then everything is
going to be okay. If we’re in the valley of the shadow of death or if our
enemies surround us, God will still be with us. But just as true is the fact
that if the Lord is our shepherd,
then we are sheep. Sheep are not known for their intelligence, their strength,
or their pleasant smells. And so there is a sense of humility rooted in this
metaphor of God as our shepherd.
We see the theme of humbleness both in 1 Samuel and John this morning as well. In 1 Samuel, the
setting is that Saul has been rejected as King of Israel, but it is not clear
who will take the throne next. And so the prophet Samuel is tasked with
announcing God’s anointed. And at first, humbleness is nowhere to be found.
Samuel comes to Jesse’s family to find the next king. Instead of approaching
this task with humility, Samuel comes with an attitude of assumption. He assume
that Eliab, the oldest son, would be the anointed. After all, that’s how things
work, right? Eliab must have been quite attractive, because upon seeing him
Samuel says “Wowza, surely this is the one, he even looks like a king!”
But
God says to Samuel, “You don’t see things the way that I do.” How often do we
make that same mistake? How often do we assume to know what God wants? I won’t
speak for you – but I’m guilty as charged. Too often, I think I know which
candidate God would vote for. Too often, I think I know what style of worship
is best. Too often, I think I know which theological thoughts are right. Too
often, I think I know what that person should do. Too often, I am not committed
to humbleness and end up making judgements that are for God to make. Maybe you struggle
with this as well.
So
then the other sons of Jesse all pass by Samuel, but none of these sons is the
right one. So Samuel asks “Are there others?” And Jesse says “Oh, yea, I sort
of forgot about the little one – sure, David is out in the field.” In a culture
where the youngest son was the last in line, David was chosen to be King. Isn’t
it interesting, and scary, how our expectations can shape our worldview. If you
expect to find the grace of God each day, you’re probably going to find it. If
you expect the Church to be full hypocrites, you’re probably going to find it.
If you expect the people you disagree with to be hard-headed, you’ll probably
find information to confirm that bias.
If
our faith is about only coming together to confirm our assumptions about the
world, then it’s not a faith rooted in God. God surprises us. Whether it is
Abraham and Sarah having a child in their old age, whether it is the youngest
being anointed king, whether it’s a crucified Jew rising from the grave, God is
about surprises.
When was the last time
you were surprised by God? When we are committed to humbleness, we are realize
that God is bigger than our imaginations, that our preferences are not God’s,
that God is not bound by our assumptions.
Though
we may enjoy surprise birthday parties, we also like predictability. I can’t
tell you how many times I’ve heard people say something like “The world is so
fully of uncertainty, I just want Church to be a place of comfort and
unchanging truths.” And I get why we want to have that given the contentious
nature of the world. But that’s a longing for religious routinism, not a
longing for God. I’m sure there were some that were frustrated when Eliab
wasn’t anointed king of Israel. Eliab should have been the king, that’s just
how things are supposed to work. There was political uncertainly all around, it
sure would have been nice to have a predictable pattern to follow. It can be so
tempting to tell God what we want instead of listening to see what God wants.
This episode with Samuel and the anointing of David reminds us that God is full
of surprises, so a little humility will go a long way in being open to
realizing that we don’t know it all.
And
speaking of knowing it all, we turn to the story of the healing of a man who was
born blind in John. Before jumping into the text though, I do need to offer a
disclaimer. The way the passage starts has an unfortunate translation issue. As
the passage began, we heard Jesus say “Neither this man nor his parents sinned;
he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” That sounds an
awful lot like God caused this man to be born blind so that Jesus would have a
miracle to work. And that’s a very dangerous reading of this text. Both due to
issues of translation and how the verse numbers were added, we end up with a
translation that isn’t helpful or accuate. Many scholars argue for a sentence
that reads “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. Period. But so that the
works of God might be revealed in him, we must work the works of him who sent
me.” It’s a very different understanding. Instead of seeing God as the cause of
blindness, a better reading shows us a God who comes to our broken situations
to do the work of healing. It’s a subtle point, but we ought not to walk away
from this text assuming that God causes gratuitous suffering to make a point.
There
is a lack of humbleness all over this text. The Pharisees say “We know he is a
sinner,” “We know that God has spoken to Moses, but we’re not sure about this
Jesus guy,” We know that God does not listen to sinners.” The phrase “we know”
when referring to God is a dangerous one. They had some questions about this
blind man – after all, they need some standards. Was he deserving of a miracle?
Was his blindness something that God wanted? And certainly, they had some
questions for Jesus. Where did you get your credentials? Do you have a proper
license to be going around and healing people? Who are you working for?
And
I absolutely love the way that John tells this story. He turns the arrogant “we know” of the Pharisees into a humble “all
I know” of the healed man. The man says “Look, I don’t much about this Jesus
guy. I was blind up until a few minutes ago, so I’m not the best eye witness as
to his character. All I know is that I was blind, and now I see.” This man has
no explanation of faith, rather only a confession of faith. He doesn’t have
answers, just a humble sense of “I was blind, but now I see.” He accepts God’s
movement in his life; he doesn’t question it, he doesn’t explain it, he simply
embraces it.
In
our faith, do we purport to speak for God saying “We know,” or do we embrace
mystery by saying “All I know.” When we dare to say “We know,” we easily fall
into routinism: our faith becomes stagnant, it becomes a product of our own
making, it becomes closed off the infinite possibilities of God. But when we
have the humbleness of spirit to say “All I know,” we remain open to yet
thought of possibilities, we encounter a faith not of our own making but rather
one that is revealed to us through God’s grace.
The
work of God is rarely done when we come in and say “Here’s the plan.” But often
when the Spirit breaks through, you’ll hear someone say “I never thought of
that possibility.” It is a commitment to humbleness that enables us to break
out of routinism and be open to the dynamic and limitless possibilities of God.
Can we commit to
remembering that we don’t know it all? Can we look for another perspective? Can
we right size our ego to remember that God is God, and we are not? If can
commit ourselves to humbleness, we can find a vibrant faith that is open the
fullness of God’s mercy, grace, and love. And that’s all I know.
