SERMON 30 January 2005 (Epiphany 4 Year A)

 Readings:    Micah 6:1-8        Psalm 15        1 Corinthians 1: 18-21        Matthew 5: 1-12 

In the name of God who invites us to humility and meekness. 

As Ian and I were driving into Sydney the other day, we were struck by some new houses being built on the hill right next to the road works at the beginning of the M5. These houses are massive – huge! They are all at least two-storey. Many have columns at the entrance and large porticos. They are designed to make a statement: here we are, we have arrived, we matter!  

Of course, so many of them, jammed together on a hillside, with barely enough room between them to take a wheelbarrow through, doesn’t make the statement quite as powerfully as if they were each sitting on a large tract of land, but the statement is being made, nevertheless.  

It is a long way from low housing, designed to fit unobtrusively into the landforms, merging with them.  

Culturally Australian society at the beginning of the 21^st century seems to be a long way from living out the Beatitudes. Jesus says, ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’ ‘Blessed are the conspicuous consumers,’ says the housing estate at Crossroads, ‘for they shall cover the earth with concrete.’ 

Despite the constant message of scripture, we seem to have trouble believing that humility and meekness are actually workable life options. All very well for Jesus, we say, but he’s never had to sit in an interdepartmental meeting with Treasury, negotiate a treaty with the Japanese or deal with a difficult neighbour. I suspect that the fear lurking behind our reluctance to be meek and humble has a voice that softly whispers to us: Practise meekness, be humble and watch the world roll over you.

The definitions of meekness and humility in the Oxford English Dictionary certainly fuel this fear. ‘Meek’ is defined as ‘quiet, gentle, and easily imposed on; submissive’. ‘Humility’ seems to be even less in tune with the zeitgeist, the temper of our times, being defined as ‘having a modest or low view of one’s own importance’. Self-abnegation and weakness seem to be implicit in both these definitions: I am nothing, I don’t matter, I am a worm, just ignore me, I don’t have a right to have an opinion.  

But I would like to offer an alternate reading of these two words – and one which is, I believe, closer to the concepts Micah and Jesus were trying to get across. There is, I believe, a world of difference between what I would characterise as healthy meekness and humility and the driven, pathological submissiveness and putting down of self which is hinted at by those dictionary definitions.  

There is plenty of unhealthy meekness and humility around. People who have been abused as children often have little sense of their own worth and quite unrealistic views of themselves, believing themselves to be unloveable nuisances. Afraid to say boo to a goose, for fear of being abused again in some form or other, they try to disappear and make as little impact as possible. There are others with quite healthy self-esteem who adopt a tactic of false modesty and false humility in order to be able to manipulate outcomes, to get what they want. Neither of these fit the scriptural model. 

But healthy meekness and humility flow naturally from a sense of God’s unconditional and passionate love for each and every human being. There is no need to assert ourselves over and against other people - we do not need to compete for God’s love and attention. Indeed, to cause pain to another person is to hurt or injure someone who is loved by God. And why would we want to inflict that on God? We all know how we feel when someone we love has been hurt or wronged. It is almost worse than when you are hurt yourself.  

There is no need for us to assert our importance through wealth and conspicuous consumption – we are of enormous importance to God. Matthew’s gospel records Jesus comparing us to sparrows: ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs on your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.’
(Matthew 10: 29-31) 

When we look for examples of the sort of meekness alluded to in the Beatitudes and the sort of humility that Micah was advocating, you can probably think of some people in your own lives whose gentleness and loving focus on other people has been inspirational for you.  

It is no accident that Mahatma Gandhi used to carry a copy of the Beatitudes with him. Or at least so the story goes. If he didn’t,  then it is no surprise that the story has grown up around him, for Gandhi came closer than most to living a meek and humble life. But his meekness and humility were not weak or passive in any sense but were the source of great strength for him, for his followers and for the people of India.  

Although a highly educated lawyer, Gandhi had very few possessions and chose to identify with the poorest of the poor. He lived as simply as he could, in touch with the rhythms of the earth and cycles of production. He refused to consume more than he needed and worked tirelessly to improve the living conditions of the most marginalised of the population – the so-called ‘untouchables’. In the cauldron of tension that was India before independence, he refused to meet violence with violence, or to allow his followers to give vent to their violent instincts. His philosophy of satyagraha, the use of non-violence, took commitment, passion, self-restraint and conviction.  

How is it, though, that meekness could lead to inheriting the earth? The text is quite clear: ‘Blessed (or happy) are the meek for they shall inherit the earth’. If we truly let go of particular outcomes, of a competitive way of life in favour of a non-violent, non-adversarial, gently loving approach, how can we possibly inherit the earth?  

Ah well, this is the mystery of it. Somehow, that is exactly what  happens. In letting go of craving particular things, we become more open to the beauty and the abundance that surround us. Happiness, a sense of blessing, capture our spirits. Once our basic needs of food, shelter and clothing are met, we can rejoice in the bonus. If we are fixated on the desirability of owning a Porsche, the Magna in the garage might be a disappointment rather than a cause for giving thanks for having a car. If we want to have our will prevail in an encounter with another person, we will be searching for that person’s weaknesses rather than delighting in their particular personality and seeing God reflected in and through them. 

I fear that this sounds rather mawkish and sentimental. But it is incredibly difficult to put into practice. Meekness and humility are not for the faint-hearted. But they do fulfil God’s will and they do lead to happiness.  Amen.

Sarah Macneil