Church of the Redeemer,
Chestnut Hill
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling
September 1, 2019 12 Pentecost
Let us pray:
God grant me the serenity to
accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and
the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.
You
probably would not recognize me 30 years ago, not so much in my physical
appearance, but rather in my emotional and spiritual life. I was in my 30’s at
the time, and I had, at best, a fragile relationship with God. Emotionally, I
had a very limited range as well. Able to smile easily, I often got positive
comments in that regard. And yet, I think sometimes my smile became stuck. Like
the desert sun, my smile would blaze, even when my private landscape was dark
and gloomy, and my soul longed for relief from the rain. There was then, and
still is now, plenty for you and me to cry about these days.
Today’s Old Testament lesson is
about the sin of pride. Now most of us have heard the saying, “Pride comes
before the fall”; but pride is not always sinful or destructive. Like guilt,
our pride can be both healthy and unhealthy. The “healthy pride that we all
need is high self-esteem, and a reasonable delight in our own achievements,
abilities, and place in this world. Healthy pride fuels progress in human
affairs and is something to be protected and nurtured," wrote Mel B.
(Hazelden) We celebrate pride in our human diversity, wearing rainbow colored
buttons and waving various flags. Proudly, we sing songs about our saints, our
alma maters, and our countries. Like a pride of lions, we gather in groups,
declaring solidarity with a particular cause or belief or mission. Perhaps
we’re proud of our Church.
Unhealthy
pride, like its kissing cousin called arrogance, is an enemy to spiritual
growth. With this kind of pride we place ourselves at the center of our
universe, rather than God. Our acronym is EGO which means easing God out. The
song we sing is “How Great I Am” rather than “How Great Thou Art.” Acting like
little king and queen babies, we put ourselves on the throne, ruling our worlds
with iron fisted control. We exalt ourselves, justifying our words and actions,
certain that we are right.
We
forget that we are all unique, and that we are all ordinary human beings,
created with various God given gifts, and seeing the world from different
perspectives. Whether we like it or not, we are inescapably dependent upon
other people. Just think about the ripple effects of our weather, trade wars, gun violence, political protests, or social media. The strings of our human connections are woven together like a
well-knit sweater, a world-wide web, and an underground tunnel. We create and
destroy each other with our pride.
“The
beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from
its Maker," wrote the psalmist. Easing God out of our lives, disengaging
from our faith communities, and ending our relationships can happen abruptly.
In her book, The Cloister Walk, Kathleen Norris wrote, “I realized that what
went wrong for me is centered in the belief that one had to be dressed up, both
outwardly and inwardly, to meet God. I simply stopped going to church when I
could no longer be ‘good’, which for girls especially meant not breaking the
rules, not giving voice to anger or resentment, and not complaining.” (pp
90-91)
My heart withdrew from God much more
gradually and subtly. Some of us are taught that being dependent upon others is
a sign of weakness. Tightly controlling our emotions, pulling ourselves up by
our bootstraps, and stockpiling our assets, we put up walls and white picket
fences around our property, our relationships, and our lives. Some people call
this the golden ghetto.
I lived there for decades. When our
children were in elementary school, I was a traditional housewife, and my
husband Paul an international business owner. From all appearances, we looked
like we were a family that had it all together. Sitting side by side in the pews
at Trinity Episcopal Church, we were the model suburban family, 2 cars in the
garage, a black lab in the backyard, and a chicken or two in every pot.
While
serving on the vestry, I became chair of the Outreach committee; and with 4
other churches in the Danbury area we created a transitional living facility
for homeless women and their children called Amos House. During this same time
I also became involved in a women’s and men’s prison. Unknown to everyone
except me, my marriage was falling apart. My smile was stuck. And I was too
proud to ask for help.
When
I resigned as a volunteer from Amos House, a fellow church member said some
nice words about me at the farewell banquet in my honor. In her remarks, she
described me as “fiercely independent”, a characteristic that I was proud about then and embarrassed about it now. One who is “fiercely independent” denies
the reality of God and our need for other people.
Proudly,
I had relied solely upon me, myself, and I to get through our family
difficulties. God and other people were decorative flourishes, socially
acceptable pieces of my pie, and accessories to my independent living. God
forbid that I would ask for help; for it is “more blessed to give than
receive,” Jesus had told me. And when asked,
“How are you?” my rote reply was “Just fine” even when it wasn’t. I
frequently told myself that “God helps those who help themselves” and I could
easily say to myself, “It could be worse. I could be like them.”
Such thinking and such behavior is
hubris. Like the man in today’s gospel, we presume that we deserve a place of
honor because we have worked hard and earned it. Or we have done good things for
others sacrificially. With a head nod to our privileges, we forget that God,
any many, many other people have contributed to our success, and sometimes even
to our death. Yes, externally God was a noticeable part of my life; and yes, my
church was a very good thing. Yet, truth be told, internally God was absent
from my very being. There was a hole in my soul that was causing internal
bleeding, and who knew? Not even me.
Without conscious thought, or deep
exploration, I thought that being a good Christian was just being of service to
others. I had given freely to the poor, served people in prison, and shared
what I had. I had a healthy pride in my contributions and generosity. I also
had a need for approval, and even more deeply, a need for love, which was
hidden well below the surface of my skin. Maintaining my mask of fierce
independence, pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t, actually
prevented me from having truly deep and satisfying relationships with God and
those around me. It prevented me from seeing others just as they are, and me
just as I am, uniquely created and unconditionally loved by God, regardless of
where we lived, how we dressed, and what we did for a living.
I
was blind to my own need for unconditional love. It wasn’t Bible study, or
Education for Ministry, or even seminary that taught me about love. Rather it
was people in my family, my church, in our community, in prisons, and at Amos
House that did that. I discovered that both the ghetto and the golden ghetto
are inhabited by human beings all yearning for love. Some of us have walls and
bars; others have picket fences and windows. We are both poor and poor in
spirit, crippled when we look for love in all the wrong places, masking our
need for it with other things, and blind to God’s amazing grace.
Many times it takes failures, or
diseases, or broken relationships to see the truth. Feeling powerless, I
discovered a higher and greater Power and a 12 step spirituality that crosses
all boundaries and leaps over all fences. As a grateful member of al-anon, I
know that humility is the antidote to unhealthy pride, and it involves, above
all else, being honest with myself as well as others. I
learned painfully how to “let go and let God” reclaim my life. “This is hard
for me when the thing that God is inviting me to release has gained an
identity, like our jobs, people, things, and ideas, so much so that it’s
beginning to function for me as a god,” wrote Roger Owens. (Christian Century,
Aug 21, 2013)
I
came to believe, one person at a time, one day at a time, in a God who loves us
just as we are, unconditionally, undeservedly, and without reserve. And invites us to grow into fuller and healthier human beings. In prayers
of thanksgiving, today, we offer our sacrifices of praise for Jesus, the One
who humbled himself upon the cross, enduring the shame of humiliation for our
sakes, so that we might be exalted with Him.
Our
humility is neither humiliation nor exaltation. Rather it is knowing who we
are, who belongs at the center of our world, and who sits at the head of our
table. Humility doesn’t come to us through isolation or being fiercely
independent, but rather participating in many communities and relationships,
and offering some of our gifts of time, talents, and treasure for the benefit of others. Recentering our
lives around God, we realize that through the power of God’s Holy Spirit, we
actually can perform at our highest and best selves. We can give unconditional love
because we have first received it from God. For that kind of living and giving,
we can truly be proud.
Sirach 10:12-18
Psalm 112
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14
