Sermon for Pentecost 17C

“DIRT”

Jeremiah 2:4-13
Psalm 81:1, 10-16

Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

Luke 14:1, 7-14

In the name of the Father (+) and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen…

It’s almost the end of summer. The vegetable plants in the garden are telling us so—they’re starting to get a little scraggly. The trees are telling us: some of their leaves look dusty and tired. On the other hand, flowers like the mums are positively jumping up and down with energy, and bursting out with buds and foliage. After drying produce all summer, I’m getting ready for a frenzy of canning sauces and pickles. Apples, squashes and cucumbers are absolutely EVERYWHERE. Tomatoes inhabit practically every flat surface at my house. All of this is made possible by one thing: dirt.

Dirt is a good thing. Dirt is an amazingly wonderful thing. We humans build great, complex cities—skyscrapers, trains, electrical systems. We invent worldwide computer networks—in two-hundredths of a second, I can be sitting inside a computer in China. But without dirt, it would be impossible. Bill Gates, who is supposed to be the world’s wealthiest person, would die of starvation without dirt. So would I, and so would the criminal in a maximum security prison.

The very word “human” reminds us of our connection to dirt—humus in Latin. Remember the words of Ash Wednesday? “You are dust and to dust you shall return.” If I am what I eat—and dirt grows the grain for our bread, provides the grass on which our dairy cows graze, is the substance from which our fruit trees obtain their nutrients—then I am dirt. So if someone expresses an intention to treat me like dirt, an appropriate response might be, “Yes, and….”.

How has dirt gotten such a bad reputation among us? “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Does that imply that the less dirt there is around me the more holy I am? Probably if I am “dirt poor” I can’t be holy at all… But with land costing tens of thousands of dollars a lot, most of us can’t afford “dirt cheap” any more. If I’m a dirty politician, there’s no question about how holy I am. Poor old dirt.

I’m sorry to say that humility—another relative of humus/dirt—has also gotten a bad rap. How many of you have eaten humble pie and thought it was tasty? Or heard the Fran Leibowitz quip: “Humility is no substitute for a good personality.”

We’ve been trained by the church to assume that humility is A Good Thing. But exactly what is it? Looking at the Gospel reading for today, you might assume that it means always taking the last place. As a matter of fact, one of the preachers in this week’s sermon discussion group told the story of two men who practically came to blows trying to be last in line at coffee hour. I guess they were doing the Heckle-and-Jeckle routine: “You first, no you first”, until one of the men actually shoved the other one ahead of him. Humility can be a slippery thing, because you can start getting proud of the fact that you always put other people before yourself.

Some of us mistake humility for self-denigration. We think that somehow if we focus on our short-comings, on all the things we don’t do properly, on how sinful we are, then we are being humble. Some of us DO have an over-inflated sense of our worth and need a bit of taking down, but some of us get absorbed in contemplation of our human and spiritual inadequacy. Taken to an extreme, a kind of perverse pride can develop: instead of the disease of self-righteousness, holier-than-thou, the disease of self-abasement grows: wickeder-than-thou. This can lead to despair: “I am so useless, that I have no place in God’s plan.” And to doubt: “I wonder if God can save such a worm as I.” No, this is not what humility is about.

There’s a saying “Humility is the only certain defense against humiliation". When he warns his hearers not to jockey for the place of honor at the banquet table, Jesus piques their interest by warning them that if they’re caught out, they will be publicly shamed for their presumption. But I think that was just an attention-getter. I don’t think that he meant to imply that humility a sly way of saving face.

So then, what IS humility? I suspect that Thomas Merton got it just right when he wrote, “Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real.” Jesus didn’t condemn people for accepting the invitation of the host to move up to the head table. He criticized those who presumed they were better than others and pushed in. Nor does the author of Hebrews condemn the leaders for taking on a position at the head of the people—instead he urges the faithful to follow and emulate them. Those who are called to prominent positions can still be humble, if that is their REAL calling.

It seems to me that humility is first of all an internal attitude: instead of focusing on what other people think of me or my position, humility focuses on how it can honor others—even if by so doing I might lose a little status. Humility asks: “how can I serve you? How can I serve God?” without concern for what’s in it for me.

A by-product of the humble attitude—looking toward others instead of ourselves--is the gift of discernment, which means the ability to see ourselves clearly—our strengths and our weaknesses without the layer of fantasy that self-interest usually imposes. It takes a great deal of courage to do that. Inevitably, we will discover truths that will make us uncomfortable about ourselves. But we must regard even our failings with humility—not try to pretend that we don’t have them—but instead offer our faults to God’s service. You never know how God will use those bits of yourself that you’d like to lock in a deep cellar. Humility pulls us away from our tendency to beat ourselves up, and turns our gaze to our brothers and sisters.

Another by-product of humility and the vision of reality that it brings is a lack of judgmentalism. If we are truly humble, and we have truly recognized that we, also, have tendencies toward evil within us, it makes it much more difficult to enjoy pointing out the faults of others. Humble Christians recognize that each person they meet is also saved and beloved of God. And deserving of our respect and concern. How different the church would be—how different the world would be—if we took Jesus’ teaching literally! Humble Christians know that even with their faults they are secure in God’s love, so they don’t need to make themselves feel better by highlighting the infirmities of others.

Dirt. Is there anything more humble than dirt? But is there anything more necessary? Humus—it’s filled with living creatures and bits and pieces of dead organic matter, from which everything else grows. Just so, humility is the dirt, the real, living quality in which our spiritual life is rooted and from which it grows. When someone asked St. Bernard of Clairvaux what were the four main virtues, he replied: “Humility, humility, humility, humility.”

Amen.