St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills
October 1, 2023
Year A, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:23-32
The Blessing of Humility
Most of you know that before I was a priest I was a history teacher.
(I know that most of you know that because I’ve mentioned it to you like a hundred times already!)
Growing up, I hadn’t really thought about becoming a teacher, hadn’t planned on it. Instead, I sort of fell into teaching.
After I graduated from college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I had considered graduate school but it seemed unwise to devote so much time and money to more studying when I was still so up in the air about my future.
So, to give myself some time, and because pretty much all I really knew was the classroom, near the end of the summer I applied for and got a job, teaching eighth graders at a local Catholic grammar school.
And so began seventeen years of teaching, while I figured out what I really wanted to be when I grew up!
I was aware that I got the job because the principal was getting desperate and I guess I seemed presentable enough. I knew nothing about teaching, aside from having watched and listened to teachers for almost my whole life.
(I actually didn’t take my first Education course until after I started teaching.)
So, I approached teaching by imitating my favorite teachers and hoped for the best.
In those early insecure days and years, I remember being very concerned that I come across as knowledgeable and competent. It really bothered me when students would ask a question that I couldn’t answer – and it’s entirely possible that early on I fudged a little, trying to look like I knew more than I actually did.
But, over time – probably with experience and through learning – I came to understand that school was not supposed to be a kind of “brain dump” from teacher to student – that teachers didn’t have to be – and really shouldn’t be – know-it-alls.
No, instead the best teachers are lifelong learners – people open enough and humble enough to keep learning, to learn from their students.
That kind of mutual learning happens all the time in our wonderful preschool that we celebrate today – our magical school where our bright and curious children ask thoughtful questions and give unexpected answers that get their teachers looking at the world with new insights and renewed wonder.
The blessing of humility.
Like many of you I’m sure, this past week I read a lot about the great Brooks Robinson, Mr. Oriole, the Human Vacuum Cleaner, Hall of Fame third basemen, considered by many to be the best to ever play that position.
One thread that ran through all of the remembrances of Brooks was the fact that, as a great a player as he was, he was an even greater man.
And what made him truly great was his humility – never boastful about his own amazing accomplishments, he spent decades attending countless community events, donating his awards to support various charities (There’s a famous photo of Brooks posing with all of his 16 Gold Glove awards but they had to create replicas because he had given so many of them away).
He signed his autograph whenever and wherever someone asked for it, and he introduced himself to strangers even though certainly everybody in Baltimore knew who he was.
The stories go on and on.
There are lots of great ballplayers but this is why so many parents named their kids Brooks.
The blessing of humility.
It may sound strange, but our God is a humble God.
Or, if you don’t want to go that far, at the very least, we know that God is willing to humble God’s Self.
God could have come among us with thunder and lightning, with dazzling displays of divine power, but instead God comes among us in and through Jesus of Nazareth, a human being just like us, born to people who were quite ordinary, or, at least so they seemed.
From the earliest days, those who followed the way of Jesus picked up on this blessing of humility.
In fact, in today’s lesson from the Letter to the Philippians, Saint Paul quotes what is probably a very early Christian hymn:
“(Christ Jesus) who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”
The blessing of humility.
And Jesus, the humble Son of God, he was open to all sorts of people – was delighted by all kinds of people – tax collectors, Gentile women who stood up for themselves and their children, his own often bumbling and confused disciples – Jesus the humble Son of God was open to all sorts of people, with one glaring exception:
The religious people who thought they had God all figured out – the holy know-it-alls who could not, or would not, see God at work all around them.
And we certainly hear these know-it-alls missing the point in today’s gospel lesson.
Jesus has been performing all sorts of signs and teaching unlike anyone has ever heard.
Jesus has also directly challenged some of the practices in the Temple, overturning tables and chasing out the moneychangers – and so the “Chief Priests and elders” ask him, “By what authority or you doing these things and who gave you this authority?”
In his usual way, Jesus doesn’t answer directly.
Instead, Jesus brings up a touchy subject: John the Baptist.
You see, the religious authorities hadn’t accepted John the Baptist (and, to be fair, the feeling seems to have been mutual!).
But, although the Baptist hadn’t received an official seal of approval, the people, well, they recognized John’s authority and power all right, flocking to the banks of the River Jordan to repent, and get dunked, and begin anew.
So when Jesus asks the religious leaders about the source of John’s authority, they are stuck and can only answer, “We do not know.”
Which, who knows, for these leaders, that just might be the beginning of humility.
I’ve told you before that I believe that the church – especially our church – has a special vocation.
We are one of the very few places left where people from lots of different backgrounds – where people young and old and in-between – can be together, celebrate together, serve together, and love one another.
With God’s help and a healthy dose of humility, we can learn from one another.
We can learn from our youngest children, from our preschoolers and kindergartners, as they ask their innocent questions and give their wonderfully creative answers.
We can learn from our youngest parishioners as they come bounding up to the altar rail, sticking out their hands to receive the Good Stuff, the Best Food of All.
We can learn from those of us in the middle, navigating a rapidly changing world, often caring for both parents and children.
And we can learn from the old, not dismissing them as out of touch but opening our ears and hearts to receive a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom.
That is our special vocation – and our special gift.
And, thanks be to God, it can all be ours, if only we accept the blessing of humility.
Amen.
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