It’s probably a
good thing I’m only your temporary or transitional priest. It’s exciting that
you will have a new priest some time in the future. Together you and s/he will
discover anew how God is calling you to love and serve Christ. But the biggest
reason it’s probably a good thing I’m what the army calls a “short timer” is
because of this. (Brandish roll of toilet paper.) Yep, that’s right. You know
what this is, and I’m willing to bet you’ve never seen one of these waved from
the pulpit before. But, this is my symbol of humility, not a segue into bathroom humor. At least, it’s a symbol of
humility for me anyway. And one of
the primary things today’s Gospel leads us to is humility about whom it is that
Jesus welcomes.
So this roll
represents humility to me; the thing that always seems to happen whenever I get
a little too pleased with myself.
I cannot tell
you how many times I have preached a sermon, led a retreat, or given a
presentation, and walked away sure that I was at the head of the table. I was
right up there next to the host, in the place of honor. My ideas, my way of
putting things, my articulate and witty ways are what made a difference in the
success. Or so I thought.
Then I walk
into a bathroom. And there is no paper. Sometimes the roll is still neatly
wrapped on the shelf. Sometimes there isn’t any roll and I have to go hunt for
it. Other times, it’s obvious several people have used the roll, but not
bothered to hang it up where it belongs.
I used to sigh
about it a lot. I used to feel put-upon, bothered, and maybe even the slightest
bit martyred. My internal dialogue went something like this. “Why am I the only person who cares about
others? I’m such a good person for
changing the roll.”
It didn’t take me long to realize
what I was doing wasn’t any more humble than taking glory for my
accomplishments. Particularly because the way in which I was taking glory for
my accomplishments, even changing the roll, meant that I thought no one else
was as capable, brilliant, and caring as I thought I was being.
The final blow
to my idea of humility came from a pair of golden retrievers. I have some
friends whose roll is never on the
holder. Every time I visited them I patiently hung it up. Until one day, one of
them took me aside and gently explained why. He told me the reason the roll
wasn’t hung up was that if it were, their golden retrievers would grab the end
of the roll and run gleefully through the house winding the paper around
everything in sight. The retrievers would use the roll to decorate the whole
house! The dogs grabbed that paper and ran round the dining table legs, around
the kitchen island, over the bookshelves, across the bed and around the legs of
the four-poster in the guest room. You can just imagine it. But, for whatever
reason, the dogs ignore the roll if it’s just sitting there, off the holder.
This experience
with those two mischievous dogs was my important lesson about what humility
really is. It’s a lesson I am still trying to absorb. Because today’s Gospel lesson
seems like a simple etiquette lesson but really is about what the Kingdom of
God is like.
True humility knows our gifts are no
better than anyone else’s gifts. What makes the difference in our true humility
is the knowledge that all gifts, all people, are welcome to sit at Jesus’
table.
Perhaps the essential core of true
humility occurs at the end of the gospel we heard today. It is what Jesus says
to the host of the dinner he attended, the dinner where Jesus watched people
jockeying for position. Jesus warns us against being to proud. First he tells
us not to sit too high because the host may ask us to go lower. And then, Jesus
reminds us we will be blessed if we remember and invite those whom he loves.
When
you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or
your relatives or your rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return,
and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the
crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot
repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”[1]
True humility
is scary stuff. True humility asks us to step away from our needs for comfort
and wealth and look at who we really are. When we acknowledge who we really
are, we discover that we too are poor, crippled, lame, and blind, not always in
the literal sense, but in the real sense of being just as needy for God as
anyone we invite. And that means we all have the same place at the table. No
one is higher; no one is lower than anyone else. In acknowledging our own
neediness we gain the freedom to join Jesus wherever there is a place at his table.
We know that a place is prepared for us all, without regard to status or
talents or money or how hard we pray or how hard we don’t. In true humility we
know that Jesus invites us all to the table, to become his friends and
companions and to walk with him now and always. AMEN.
The Rev Nicolette
Papanek
©2016
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