Jan. 12 ~ Humility is an Awareness of Something Greater Than Self

A recording of the sermon is available by clicking above.

Sermon, by Pastor Joel

January 12, 2025

Isaiah 43:1-7

Psalm 29

Acts 8:14-17

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22  

The context of this sermon is

100% written by a human

Every time John the Baptist shows up in our gospel, he is compelling. For me, he is perhaps one of the most human characters in our gospel story – and also one of our best role models. John the Baptist doesn’t care what other people think – as his bombastic language suggests. He doesn’t worry about small stuff – as his style of dress suggests. He is clear about his purpose and won’t be deterred from his values. His human flaws of being rude and brash only bring him more to life. Of all the people we meet in the gospel narrative, he never wavers – from God, his purpose, and, of course, from Jesus.

And no more so than this morning, when he scoffs at the people who think that he might be the Messiah. The one who is coming, he says, is far greater than I. “I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” And there is John, baptizing people in the River Jordan, when Jesus approaches and asks John to do the same for him. Our gospel this morning doesn’t go into details. But in Matthew, we hear that John protested because he didn’t feel it was appropriate. And Jesus said to him, “In this way we will do all that God requires.” And so John baptized Jesus.

Why is John such a powerful character? I would argue it is because he is the quintessential humble servant. He is someone who could have seized power – he had his throng of adoring fans. He could easily have stepped into the limelight. He could have been swept up in his own acclaim. And yet, he held fast. He showed humility, perhaps his greatest power, and certainly provided a good lesson for us all.

Is humility a quality we admire? In other people, absolutely. We enjoy the company of the humble person who doesn’t feel the need to brag, who shows an openness to other people, who seems comfortable with themselves and what they don’t know. People who score high on humility, research suggests, are more other-centred than focused on themselves. That alone makes them pleasant company.

And yet, parents don’t exactly look at their kids and say, I really hope he or she is humble when they grow up. In fact, society tells us that the successful path is to do the opposite of John – to seize power, to attract the limelight, to bask in acclaim. To be humble is to be weak, a wall flower, and less than. When we talk about someone’s humble clothes, we don’t mean elegantly simple. When we say someone has a humble manner, or a humble house, the sense of that description is less than. Do we see humility as central to success, as evidence of a security of self that is enviable? For what is a humble person - and who was John – but that? Certain and sure-footed, released from the chase of external validation, and true to what was inside himself. That was John – the humble servant.

What does humility achieve in the world? Humility in CEOs has been linked, in studies, to a willingness to listen, to admit mistakes, to consider other perspectives, and to remain open to other solutions to a problem – all skills that come in handy in complex situations. The humble CEO empowers more employees – that is, they bring out the best in people.

Other work suggests a link between humility and happiness. Being humble appears to improve well-being and increase life satisfaction. Perhaps that is because humble people have a closer and warmer social circle; perhaps it is because their outlook on life is less self-critical or judgemental. I expect it is both.

How can we practice humility if it doesn’t come naturally to us, as we might assume it did for John the Baptist? (And who knows? Maybe he had to work at it too, for a time.) I suppose our first steps would be to listen more carefully to others, to avoid even the humble brag, to remain open to what we don’t yet have figured out, and to worry less about personal accomplishment and more about contribution.

In a 2014 research paper, a team of business researchers referred to Humility as the disposition of a person that reflects “a self-view that something greater than the self exists.”

“A self-view that something greater than the self exists:” Could even John the Baptist have put it better? In that River Jordan, John finally saw for himself the power of that greater thing, in the divinity of Jesus, when the Holy Spirit appeared above him as a dove, and the voice of God named him. And he would know that man – as we do – to be the humble servant he had been. Not a king, even though a kingdom was his for the seizing. Not a dictator, even when his followers might have wanted him to take control. Not a braggart, immune even to the Devil’s tempting him in the desert. And indifferent to those who would push him off his path of purpose, even when those people were his closest friends - like Peter - and meant well.

Let us look to the model of John the Baptist, whose humility was never weakness, but only strength. His willingness to humble himself brought him closer to God. Humility is also a gift: an awareness that something greater than self exists, and that we are not alone.

Amen.

Jan. 5 - Look up to the Magi in our midst, to find the wisdom of Epiphany

A recording of the sermon is available by

clicking the box below.

Sermon, by Pastor Joel

January 5, 2025

Isaiah 60:1-6

Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14

Ephesians 3:1-12

Matthew 2:1-12  

The context of this sermon is

100% written by a human

I am married to someone who loves the colour and sparkle of Christmas and would probably leave up the decorations for months. But of course that is not liturgically correct. And so we have reached a compromise. On the first day of epiphany the gold and glitz of Christmas are put away. But the lights remain on the tree, as does the greenery, sparkling up the house during the long days of winter until Lent. This compromise has not only maintained peace in my marriage but has also kept the comfort and quiet spirit of epiphany in our minds, well after the signs of Christmas have been packed up for next year.

Indeed, it is the glow of wisdom in epiphany that should speak to all of us in the weeks ahead. We heard this morning about the Magi who, having dodged Herod’s inquisition and followed the star, have finally arrived at the manger. These educated people, who have come to see Jesus we are told, lay their gifts before him and are overwhelmed with joy. How that experience informed their teachings from that day forth, we can only guess. But at least, we understand, they did not turn around and go back to Herod to spill what they’d seen. As the gospel says, they avoided the angry ruler by taking another road home.

Where do we find the wisdom of Epiphany? How do we follow the star in the sky that leads us to the comfort and peace of the manger, however that manifests in our lives? Perhaps we might look for Magi in our midst and take guidance from them.

This year, my partner, Erin, came up with an interesting idea in her job covering happiness for The Globe and Mail. She asked Canadians to send in the names of the “happiest people they know.” More than 100 names were sent in, and Erin so far has interviewed only a small number. But I have been hearing about them for weeks – their inspiring idea of happiness, the clarity of their own priorities, and the advice they would offer for those of us searching to be happier. In the end, Erin’s story included 12 kernels of wisdom from the group.

What comes through when you read their stories is that they did not have perfect lives. A young woman had lost her father when she was in university. A father waiting for his first child was diagnosed with an incurable cancer. Maybe, they all said, their personalities leaned toward happiness to start. But they had also worked hard to develop their sense of self, to build happy and meaningful lives. One woman learned to forgive her ex-partner and the friend of hers with whom he had started a relationship. A retired principal, who had left his training to become a Jesuit priest, had wrestled with what he would now do, and went off to Calcutta to volunteer. He found himself, one afternoon, sitting with Mother Teresa, asking her for guidance. Follow your deepest desire, she told him, and it will work out. What I think Mother Teresa was saying was know yourself – learn who you are – and your path will be clear.

So what were the 12 lessons from these happy Canadians? I will share four that especially resonated with me.

The first one: Stay curious about the people you love, a young woman advised. She said she never has her phone out when talking to her closest friends: she listens carefully, watches their body language, and asks questions to truly understand their words. Active listening. A skill we could probably all improve.

The second: When Life is hard, maintain perspective. Today is not tomorrow. The young father had received his cancer diagnose in late winter 2020, around the same time his wife discovered she was carrying their first child. Of course, you know what happened in 2020: the pandemic delayed his surgery, and when he finally started treatment, his wife could not visit. After his daughter was born, he had to return alone to hospital to continue his care. And yet, when he looked back on that year, he had to laugh. It could have always been worse he said. What’s more, he insisted, today cannot be allowed to define tomorrow. You can grow and change and adapt. Perhaps embracing life comes into particular relief when you are not yet 40, and facing your own mortality. But isn’t the time for embracing life right now – whatever your age?

The third: Talk to strangers. I have spoken about this before, but these people were also the ones who would say good morning to their neighbors, who struck up a conversation at the mechanic’s, who learned about the people buying their tomatoes. “Don’t spend a lot of time talking about the weather,” one of them said. When you ask deeper questions, you come away having learned more –even if you never see that person again.

And finally -- this one was Erin’s favourite, and she has won me over, so I will include it: “Have fun. Blow Bubbles. Dance and Sing.” The people talked about how, as adults, we don’t place enough value on fun – blowing bubbles with your mom might seem frivolous when you have work to do. But in these fun, silly moments, they said, you create memories and connections that sustain you when life gets hard. By having fun, you practice joy, you learn to care less what other people think, and build a life of meaning.

In this season of Epiphany, this is my New Year’s Resolution. Not to define 2025 by don’ts. If you want to add some don’ts -- don’t drink alcohol, don’t eat too many cookies – give it a go. But for every don’t, create at least two dos: Do talk to strangers. Do practice gratitude. Do listen better. Do have fun.

The Christmas story is not defined by what the people in the manger didn’t do – but what they did. Just like the Magi following the star, we can be active participants as well. We can follow the gospel, rather than bending to law. For there lies the spirit of God and the divine life. And for the people whom others see as at peace and wise, there lies happiness.

Amen.

Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience

A recording of the sermon is available by

clicking the box below.

Sermon, by Pastor Joel

December 29, 2024

1 Samuel 2:18-20, 26

Psalm 148

Colossians 3:12-17

Luke 2:41-52  

The context of this sermon is

100% written by a human

“As God’s chosen ones,” our second lesson suggests, “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” Doesn’t that sound warm and welcoming? The best kind of clothing any of us will ever wear. The most fashion-forward in angry days. The most secure in an uncertain world. And what do these clothes cost? Nothing, nothing at all. Just our attention, our will, and our presence.

For the last few weeks, we have been talking about the power of presence. I shared stories from Rabbi Brous’s book, The Amen Effect. We heard about Andrew, the mysterious man who rescued Allie, when she was struck by a car while out walking. And how Rabbi Brous, herself pregnant, went to the bedside of a woman recently forced for health reasons to terminate her own pregnancy, and brought great comfort to the woman, despite her fears that her own pregnancy would be hard for the patient. Finally, on Christmas Eve, we heard about Hanne who took in a young man named Ryan who was living on the street, even though her friends told us she wasn’t safe.

And so we see how our presence can be offered in different ways – to a stranger in need, to a friend even when it’s awkward for us, and in a way that outweighs the risks against the opinion of society. And we also saw the difference this presence made. Andrew, by acting, likely saved a young woman’s life. Rabbi Brous provided comfort and in return received a generous blessing. Ryan landed on his feet and returned to honour Hanne at her funeral.

Our presence is a gift we choose to give. It is cloth, as our second lesson reminds us, that if we accept it, we may also share. Compassion, kindness, humility, patience, being meek - that is slow to anger - each one of these factors into our stories of presence; they are necessary ingredients that move us to offer ourselves in service to another.

And, of course, on Christmas Eve we arrived at the manger and witnessed the most divine presence – a gift from God in the form of the baby Jesus. This is the presence that inspired the love of young parents – which we hear about in our gospel this morning. The protection of the shepherds, who I imagine would have a thing or two to say about Jesus’s running off like that. And the guidance of the Magi, who might have said to Mary and Joseph: “Relax, he is safe and see what he is learning.” Those are all valid forms of presence: love, security, and wisdom. And in the middle, the future teacher and healer, who will someday make the truest gift of his presence on behalf of everyone.

Now Christmas is days past, and perhaps, having opened the gifts and devoured the turkey, you feel its presence slipping away. Perhaps the warm glow of family harmony is becoming discordant again with old conflicts. Perhaps after all the work, it was over in a moment, and you are wondering where it went.

Of course, the presence of Christmas is not attached to one day; it is a permanent and inseparable gift in our faith lives. The scene at the manger is imprinted upon us, and we can go there anytime. Perhaps we need to be reminded of the manger over and over again. But its presence fades only if we choose to let it.

But are we forgetting something, or someone? If we are to take the cloth of the gospel and share it with others, how do we first acquire it? Who first wraps it around our shoulders and fastens it so it remains whatever life brings to us? This is the presence that begins it all. Without first learning that we are freely offered kindness and compassion and patience – we cannot practice it ourselves. And this presence does not exist on only one day, or one night; it exists in the air we breathe, the sun we watch rise, the snow that falls, and in the bright eyes of a grandchild and the clouding eyes of grandparents. It is the presence of something larger than and beyond ourselves, past what we can imagine, outside our understanding. It is the presence of God.

Do not fret as the Christmas glow fades and the tree starts to wilt and the toy breaks. The presence of God endures. That presence – that warmth of the cloth of forgiveness and kindness and patience – is placed upon the shepherds, Mary and Joseph, and the innkeeper. On baby Jesus, who is entrusted into our presence. It is placed over Andrew and Jackie and Hanne. And it is placed upon each one of us. This is the presence that should warm our hearts and lift our spirits, for it reminds us that we are worthy and loved and accepted – not for winning or striving – but for ourselves. And people who are clothed in this way – who are loved in this way – may offer that same cloak, that same love to others. It is the only way they truly can.

So in this now after Christmas, as the days pass, look for the divine and watch for the presence of God. Wear the cloak that God intended for all of us. And when you’re healthy and strong, extend a hand to share its warmth. For God has presence for all of us.

Amen.