First Unitarian Universalist Society of Albany

Patience and Humility for Liberals

Rev. Samuel A. Trumbore, March 2, 2003

Sermon

The religious hypocrisy around patience and humility makes it hard to appreciate their tremendous value. Too often those who would like to control us are the ones preaching at us the value of patience and humility. Some clergy attempt to persuade us by preaching about the glory and greatness of God compared to the lowly insignificance of humanity.

I know a senior pastor of a large church who liked to preach that kind of message. One day as he was passing by his sanctuary, he felt himself humbled by the greatness of God. He went in, knelt down at the alter rail, and began to beat himself on the chest, crying out, "O Lord, I am nothing before your greatness."

A few moments later, the minister of music passed by the sanctuary. He too felt himself suddenly humbled by the greatness of God. He ran in and fell on his knees at the alter rail beside the pastor and began beating himself on the chest, crying out, "O Lord, I am nothing before your greatness."

The Holy Spirit must have been very contagious that day. Pretty soon all the church's ministers were lined up at the altar beating their chests and bemoaning their nothingness before the greatness of God.

The last to arrive was the janitor who rushed up to the altar and started beating his chest too. The minister looked up and nudged the minister of music whispering, "Look who thinks he's nothing."

To understand why modern religious liberals dislike patience and humility, just go to the Bible. Read Chapter three of Paul's letter to the Colossians: First, Paul rejects this world saying, "Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth." Then he declares the Christian's special status, " As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience." Finally he insults women and colludes with oppression writing "Wives, be subject to your husbands" and " Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything."

We religious liberals reject a supernaturalism that denies planet earth to attain what is beyond this world. We reject the concept of a chosen race or culture or religious system ordained by God to the exclusion of all others. We reject all forms of slavery and oppression.

Even though we're tempted to shoot the messenger, there remains great wisdom in Paul's commission to clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience. If I had told you Bishop Tutu said that in South Africa or the Dalai Lama used the phrase in a lecture, I'd wager most would have paid close attention and nodded. As religious liberals, our challenge approaching concepts and ideas embedded in our Western Biblically-based cultural heritage, is recovering the treasure from the barnacle-encrusted wreck. The values of patience and humility are worth the dive to the bottom of the sea in search of truth and meaning.

Patience and humility do not come naturally to most of us. Thinking of ourself as the center of the universe is a natural childhood developmental stage of growing up. Unfortunately for our developing sense of self, the illusion doesn’t last. The process of maturation, particularly in the teenage years, is one insult to our ego after another. The adjustment of our self-image to reality can become a string of hurtful and humiliating experiences.

I was a bright child and socialized easily with the brains at my school. I conceived of myself as the kind of elite person who would go to an Ivy League school and become rich and famous. That inflated dream came crashing down when I got my SAT scores. While I did well, I didn't do as well as my brainy friends did. The humiliating gap between our scores made me feel like I didn't belong in their company anymore. I wasn't the genius I thought I was. With wounded self-esteem, I trimmed back my ambitions and lowered my expectations of myself.

That experience of humiliation wasn’t good for me at all. It weakened my faith in myself. Why? The humiliation stimulated my self-doubt and made me question my worth as a human being. I let the testing establishment reinforce my self-doubts and tell me I was nothing in the eyes of my peers.

The process of humiliation destroys people. Whether it is a boss who belittles an employee, a teacher who demeans a student, a religious leader who admonishes a parishioner, or a police officer who disrespects a citizen, humiliating messages from those who have power over us can be incredibly destructive. Powerful people cannot teach us humility because we have little choice in our relationship with them. Their control of our lives and feelings of worth limit our ability to freely and honestly yield to them. What is at stake is our very identity.

Our memories of humiliating experiences and the damage they have done to us block the way toward a life affirming understanding of patience and humility. A way to clear the path is to begin with our Unitarian Universalist first principle, the inherent worth and dignity of every person. To deeply and profoundly embrace that declaration of unconditional value is to transform one's existence. I am NOT nothing. I am someone. I am someone who has worth. I am someone who has value. I am someone who has dignity. I am. I am that I am.

Not only am I, so are you, and you, and you. Rather than a world of emptiness, we live in a vibrant world of fullness and meaning. I will not find enduring meaning by rating myself against anyone else or pushing someone else down so I can climb above them. My value as a human being doesn't come from my performance or success. We all have inherent value. We are breathing, moving, feeling embodiments of love, love that is inherent to our being.

When I have deeply felt and experienced these words, my response has been … humility. I've felt it as a sense of awe and gratitude for the joy of being alive. It makes me want to embrace people, not stand on their backs. It makes me want others to be free from their low self-esteem and self-judgment. It makes me want them to recognize their inherent worth and dignity, too.

In this context, patience and humility can be a path to affirmation of self and the other. Rather than striving to be better than someone else, the practice of patience and humility can expand one's compassion and care, helping others to realize their inherent value.

Our Voluntary Simplicity class on Monday nights has been examining how our actions affect others. We're examining the fact that if we consume less of the world's resources, there will be more for others. If we humble ourselves, if we make lower our demands of the marketplace, others will have the opportunity to enjoy the bounty of the earth. If we are patient, waiting while others have a turn, we can be better stewards of spaceship earth.

Parenthood teaches some of the most profound lessons in patience and humility. Good parents must, at times, be patient with their children. You just can't force them to learn to use the potty. They speak, crawl, walk and learn to read when they are good and ready. Their intellectual and emotional development follows their own schedule.

Few of us take to parenting without some humility. The elemental nature of a baby's needs for milk, burping and changing, sleep, cuddling and love bring parents down to earth. In the service of a baby's needs, none of us are famous or brilliant. Babies bring us into a full awareness of our interdependence.

Parenting isn't intuitive for most of us. Unlike our mammalian friends, parenting isn't something we were born knowing how to do. We needed to learn it from others. This kind of humility comes naturally. Sadly it doesn't extend to the rest of our lives.

Like it or not, we need to learn from each other. We need to look to each other for help moving through the transitions in our lives. None of us have all the answers to life's persistent questions, but together, we can manage each passage. Accepting each other as mentors on our journey through life makes the way a little smoother. This way of humility is not about stooping to be smaller than yourself but rather to stand at your real height with the aid of someone of taller stature who can draw out of you the greatness that is within you. This sense of mutual support is what makes our congregation a vital and nurturing religious community.

As an on- and off-again Buffalo Bills fan, I love this story of gridiron humility. In 1994 Thurman Thomas, head bowed with his hands covering his face, sat on the Buffalo bench following his team's fourth straight Super Bowl loss. His three fumbles had helped seal the awful fate of his Buffalo Bills. Suddenly, standing before him was the Dallas Cowboys' star running back, Emmitt Smith. Just named MVP for Super Bowl 28, Smith was carrying his small goddaughter. Smith looked down at her and said, "I want you to meet the greatest running back in the NFL, Mr. Thurman Thomas."

Just as it is human to love, it is human to compete. We are not all equal in our abilities. Some excel and gain fame. Others will lead modest lives with little fanfare. And there is plenty of room for everyone to have meaningful and rewarding lives. Leonard Bernstein, the celebrated orchestra conductor, was once asked, "What is the hardest instrument to play?"

Without a moment's hesitation he replied, "Second fiddle. I can always get plenty of first violinists. But to find one who plays second violin with as much enthusiasm, or second French horn, or second flute, now that's a problem! And yet if no one plays second, we have no harmony."

What way might you find more harmony through humility in your life? This coming Wednesday is the beginning of Lent, a time for Christian humility as they fast, reflect and repent. While our yearly liturgy does not follow the Lenten tradition, we can use those forty days before Easter as an opportunity to experiment with a little patience and humility.

A simple way to practice patience is to let someone go first. Opening a door, allowing another car to enter your lane, or serving yourself last at the table are good ways to tell others they are important to you too. If you are up for a bigger challenge, try deferring one impulsive purchase or consumption for 24 hours each day during Lent. Practicing deferred gratification is the lynchpin that holds civilization together. "The key to everything is patience." said Arnold Glasgow. "You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it."

Admitting a wrong, especially to your children, is a healing practice of humility. Making amends is an affirming way to repair tears in the fabric of our relationships. Another affirming act of humility could be to stop resisting and follow the good advice of a trusted friend. Sometimes others really do have our best interests at heart. Gandhi claimed to be a simple individual liable to err like any other fellow mortal. “I own, however,” he said, “that I have humility enough to confess my errors and to retrace my steps.”

So, maybe Paul was right about the value of patience and humility. Like our words, Paul’s contain both foolishness and wisdom.

"Be humble for you are made of dung," says the Serbian Proverb, "and be noble for you are made of stars." Patience and humility practiced freely for the sake of love brings great good into the world. "With time and patience," says the Chinese proverb, "the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

May patience and humility be garments we choose to wear to clothe our lives in beauty.

Benediction

From Saul Bellow's collection of traditional Jewish tales comes this story:

In a small Jewish town in Russia, there is a rabbi who disappears each Friday morning for several hours. His devoted disciples boast that during those hours their rabbi goes up to heaven and talks to God.

A stranger moves into town, and he's skeptical about all this, so he decides to check things out. He hides and watches. The rabbi gets up in the morning, says his prayers, and then dresses in peasant clothes. He grabs an axe, goes off into the woods, and cuts some firewood, which he then hauls to a shack on the outskirts of the village. There an old woman and her sick son live. He leaves them the wood, enough for a week, and then sneaks back home.

Having observed the rabbi's actions, the newcomer stays on in the village and becomes his disciple. And whenever he hears one of the villagers say, "On Friday morning our rabbi ascends all the way to heaven," the newcomer quietly adds "If not higher."