On Humility

Sermon

It occurred to me, as Gregg and I watched last Tuesday’s presidential debate, that neither candidate displayed any knowledge of this particular scriptural passage, which encourages those who follow Jesus to live a life of self-emptying and humility. Of course, I did not expect to see that in the debate, though both candidates are Christian. A presidential debate is not the place to show off one’s humble chops.

This passage from Paul’s letter to the Philippians is one of my favorites, and as most preachers know, it’s always a bit dicey to preach on favorite scripture; there are only so many times we can say, “We love this! We love this!” Better for the preacher and the sermon is a scripture passage that is confounding or troublesome or discomforting, because then we have something to work with.

Nonetheless, this exquisite piece of scripture might still have something confounding, troublesome, or just plain uncomfortable for us to hear. So let’s dive in.

What I love about these eleven verses are their clarity, their poetry, and their challenge. Remember that Paul is writing from prison to this community of Jesus followers whom he loves, whose love for him and for God keep him going despite his dire circumstances. And you can love someone or someones, and be grateful for their love and support, and still know that they aren’t perfect and that they might have a few things to work on. That may be the case here.

How do we know? From those first words, “Let the same mind be in you.” Evidently the same mind is not what the faithful of Philippi have had. We might infer that there has been division, quarrel, conflict. That should not surprise us, because where two or three are gathered, there will be disagreement. If there’s not, someone is either lying or being forced to go along.

So with great clarity, Paul urges them to have the same mind. Right away we might react a bit to that. Is Paul urging conformity, that everyone do the same thing? It’s like the community of Camazotz in Madeline L’engle’s classic book A Wrinkle in Time. The heroine Meg, her brother Charles Wallace, and their friend Calvin have traveled in the fourth dimension to land in what looks like any 1950s American suburb. But something is off.

Everyone opens their front door at the same time. The fathers leave for work and start their cars at the same time. The children bounce their balls at the same time, in the same rhythm. Other children skip rope in unison. And it’s wrong.

That’s not what Paul means by having the same mind—he’s talking about having the same mind that was in Christ Jesus. We might think of it as sharing the core values of our religion—not beliefs but values.

On Friday a friend and I went to the Dahlia Festival in Canby, a feast for the eyes. It was gorgeous. Row after row after row of blooming dahlias. Now some were pink and some were white and some were magenta. Some had rounded, cone-like petals, others had a mere six, long, pointed petals. Some had blue-green leaves, others bright green. Each flower was unique. Each flower was a dahlia. Each flower needed sun and water. Each flower shared the soil. The dahlias in Canby, we might say, are of one mind—if flowers could have a mind. That doesn’t mean they are the same.

What is our shared soil, our core value? I would say it is love, because what Jesus teaches us, what God gives to us, is love, and so we have the great commandment to love God, neighbor, and self. I appreciate Paul’s clarity that that is what the Jesus followers are to be about: love.

The second thing I love about this passage of scripture is its poetry. Most scholars believe that verses five through eleven were borrowed from a hymn that was known to those first Christian communities. If that is the case, I will tell you that in Greek, the verses don’t rhyme, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t once sung by the community. When it comes to the deep things, those things that strike me (and maybe you) in a profound way, I find that plain old prose doesn’t work as well as poetry or song or music.

There’s a musical phrase in Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring that always gets my heart beating, an introduction to the great theme of the Simple Gifts tune. Or the beginning of the chorale of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Or the opening riff of Springsteen’s Born to Run.

It’s the same as with poetry for me, when W. H. Auden writes, “I know nothing/except what everyone knows/ if there when grace dances/ I should dance.” Or Mary Oliver’s poem When Death Comes—”When it’s over, I want to say: all my life/ I was a bride married to amazement./ I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.” Although maybe not so much the poetry of Robert Service, who wrote these less than immortal words. “The northern lights have seen queer sights/but the queerest they ever did see/ was that night on the marge on Lake LeBarge/I cremated Sam McGee.”

Robert Service aside, that’s what this Christ hymn does for me—it puts into poetry what God did for us—become incarnate, assuming a place at the bottom of society, enduring and suffering the worst humanity has to offer, in order to know us fully, to know fully what it is to be human, so that we can be fully healed and saved. This hymn reminds me who Jesus is, and all that he is willing to do for the children of God.

The third thing I love about this passage is the challenge in it, not simply the challenge of having the same mind as Christ Jesus, but the challenge to live a life of humility, of humbleness. As I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon, humility is not a quality we look for in our leaders, be they politicians, CEOs, or brain surgeons. But we do expect humility in others. In pastors. In store clerks. In customer service personnel.

To make a huge generalization, I think “being humble” is heard differently in women than it is in men. Maybe that’s not the case anymore, but I think, in some ways, my sister and I were raised to be humble, not to brag about our accomplishments, to underplay our achievements. My brothers were raised differently.

While Paul is encouraging the Jesus followers in Philippi to have the same mind, he knows full well that they do not share the same status. Some have the rights and privileges of being Roman citizens. Some are slaves. Some are men in power. Some are women raising children. Commentator Elsa Tamez notes that Paul is urging the leaders of the community, those with power, to have humility.

She writes, “…Paul has the community leaders in mind… asking them to be humble and to ‘regard others as better than yourselves.’ This recommendation can be made only to people in power, since people in power occasionally fall into pride and the pursuit of personal ambition. To make this recommendation to the lowlier members of the community would be counterproductive and go against the values of the movement itself, which seeks to empower the… excluded and oppressed people with the good news of the Resurrected One. For those already in power, humility is the antidote to pride and self-interest.” (Wisdom Commentary, Philippians, p. 72)

So then, our individual relationship with humility might have something to do with how much power we think we have, and by power, I mean not only our ability to get what we want but also our ability to influence others. Some have power because of their position, others because of their wealth, and still others because of their knowledge. Teachers might have power in their classroom. Church matriarchs might have power in the congregation. Baristas might have power in the coffee shop.

In an earlier version of the sermon, in the opening I had a line about the strange diversion in the presidential debate about the cats and dogs in Springfield, Ohio. I took it out, because I learned that the situation in Springfield, and the racist tropes about the Haitian immigrants who live there, and the very real existence of neo-Nazis there, is really quite dire.

I supposed it is possible that these neo-Nazis, part of the “Blood Tribe” or another white supremacist group, Patriot Front, feel they are without power or that they are losing their power to the Haitian migrants in the city, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. I see these groups and others like them having much power, the power of violence and hate and racism.

On the other hand, the Haitian immigrants there have very little power. They are not citizens. They do not know the customs. They have fled a place of terrible poverty, and natural disaster, and violent political unrest. They are misunderstood. They are the subject of lies about eating pets. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so tragic. (https://talkingpointsmemo.com/news/how-jd-vance-and-a-virulent-neo-nazi-group-inflamed-tensions-over-migrants-in-springfield)

Who needs to be humble? Who needs to give up power? And what do we who have power do in such a situation? Even more, how is it even possible for everyone who says they are a Christian to share a same mind, to share a core value? How do we glorify God in our living and ensure that we aren’t just glorifying ourselves?

Maybe love is the litmus test. Is what we are seeing love or hate? If it is love, let’s commend that. Let’s imitate that. If it’s hate, let’s use our power to offer a different narrative or to protect those who are threatened. If it’s hate, let’s call it what it is.

We live in tense times. There’s a lot of hatred out there, and there are a lot of lies being spewed. That’s on top of the usual grief, and despair, and poverty, and loneliness. And Christ walks into all of that to bring good news, and hope, and love.

Toni Morrison once commented, “Perhaps that’s what all human relationships boil down to: Would you save my life? Or would you take it?”

I know how Jesus answered that question. Let us be of the same mind.

To the glory of God.