Christian Authority is Humility

 

                After Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey,
and symbolically cleanses the temple by chasing out the money changers and declaring, “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you make it a robbers’ den!”
They come to him, faction after faction of the Jerusalem Elite, asking:
“By what authority? Who gave you this authority?”
Why do you do this? Who told you to do it? How did you decide to do what you’ve done?
By what authority?

                These sorts of questions are not reserved for that heightened moment in Jesus’ life,
they are questions Matthew’s community is clearly asking itself,
and a question for us today as well.

                A question, Jesus cleverly does not answer…
at least not directly.

A question answered by the earliest church in the form of a song
—a song Paul quotes as pertinent to the Christian community in Phillipi,
A song the Church saw fit to save and savor as Scripture.

                The answer to that Authority question is that,
for both Jesus Christ and we Christians,
our authority is found in humility.

                Christian authority is found in humility.

Let us pray

 

                “By what authority?”

                Does it come from heaven?
—if so, that’s certainly a hard claim to verify,
and certainly doesn’t hold up to the acid wash of modernity,
or the unraveling of post-modernity.

                Does it come from humanity?
—human reason, or holding a vote…
if so, that’s a meandering sort of authority,
one so very quickly caught up in personality and will to power.

                Like the first brother in Jesus’ parable, Does it come from the words of our lips?
—do our words have a sort of innate authority to them?
down that road lies:
the quicksand of hypocrisy,
the sharp stubby branches of shibboleths,
and the shadow valleys of magic words and magical thinking.

                Or perhaps Christian authority is the authority of the second brother,
Does it come from our deeds, the works of our hands?
—if so, we better have strong hands to the end,
and beyond the end, no weakness there
—we better hope that people interpret our actions correctly,
or they won’t know the source of the good that we do.

 

                No—none of these things are where either Christ or Christians derive our authority. No, Christian authority is found in humility.
As Paul quotes:

“He did not grasp.
He emptied himself.
Became human-shaped,
slave formed,
reduced to death,
executed on a criminal’s cross.”

Humility—a sign of Christ,
and Paul insists, a sign of the Church as well.

                I was reading a Greek-geek describing the word Paul uses for humility,
and the scholar said something to the effect of:
“If only there was a word in English for humility that expressed
being on the underside, pushed down, down and out.”

Humiliated.
That’s the word he was looking for.

No one likes to be humiliated
—just saying the word conjures up:
images of childhood traumas and mistakes,
instances of exclusion,
being called out, or left behind.

But, one of my all-time favorite quotes, from Theologian Howard Thurman is, “Humility can never be humiliated.”

Paul knew something about that
—After all, he imprisoned when he wrote this letter about Christ’s humility
—he writes what many people call “Paul’s letter of Joy.”
His authority, derived from a humility that transcended humiliation.

 

While Jesus is indirect when answering the Elders and Chief Priests—humility is his answer.
He rides on a donkey not a war horse,
turns over tables instead of taking a cut.
Along with John, Jesus ministers to and uplifts Prostitutes and Tax Collectors
—outsiders of all sorts,
those humiliated and captured by the structures of both Rome and Jerusalem
—they are given relief
and their humiliation is transformed into humility.

Outsiders, the ones who can, with a stark realism, recognize and testify to what Christ has given to them.
A lighthouse is most needed by the ship in a storm,
a true friend most appreciated by the friendless and distressed.
Fear and trembling most keenly felt when none but God gets you through.

 

Humility allows us to name our faults and failings,
name our needs and weaknesses
—and witness,
point to,
tell other people about
—the ways Christ has brought us through and gives us hope!
It is the catalyst to authenticity—which alone makes our witness believable.
We can’t pass on a faith that never changed us.

And also, humility is, as Paul writes, the stuff of community,
it is only when selfishness is slayed and self-interest is put away
—that we can care for each other.

Think of the allegory of the long spoon
—a story told in multiple cultures and faiths (everyone from Rabbis and Church Fathers to Charles Dickens to Tzuang-tsa?):

A man reaches a turning point in his life,
he can choose to serve his community or make a quick buck.
He goes to sleep, and an angel takes him first to hell and then to heaven.

In hell
there are groups of people chained around pots of delightful chili,
but all they have to eat with are spoons with handles too long to reach their own lips
—so they spend eternity around a sumptuous meal none can eat,
growing so frustrated that they regularly poke at each other with their long spoons.

Then he is taken to heaven,
where he finds groups of people chained around pots of delightful chili,
and all they have to eat with are spoons with handles too long to reach their own lips
—and they spend eternity feeding each other the best of food.

 

Humility
—it is the stuff of authentic witness
and a building block of community.

A vaccine for humiliation
and a permission slip for clarifying honesty.

Humility
—the way of our Lord,
and the source of authority for we Christians.
Sung by imprisoned apostles,
and our marching orders
as we leave this church building today. Amen.