Sermon Preached at Northbrae Community Church, June 22, 2003 –
By Ron Sebring
Discerning Pride and Humility
Years ago, there was a "B" rated movie playing in theaters – an adventure drama. I’ve long forgotten the title and many of the scenes. The acting, as I recall, wasn’t that impressive. But for whatever reason, the overall plot-concept has stuck with me. A warrior struggled against opposing forces to get to an island. He had been told by a wise elder that on this island, there is a carefully guarded book, and in this book are hidden all the secrets of life. It contains the final answer to all the questions spiritual seekers ask. Truth revealed. Getting to the island was as much about passing tests that strengthened character, as overcoming the obstacles.
And so this warrior fought his was to the island. Overcoming obstacles and passing tests. Finally, older and wiser, and having earned the right to open the book, he approached the podium in the center of the shrine. And when he opened the book, what was there was a bright mirror that reflected back to him his own face. This plot-concept metaphorically embodies a key to mysticism found in many religions. What we seek in prayer and meditation is our deepest Self. It is the lifelong struggle to become who we already are. It’s like Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. Odysseus is the king of Ithaca. He ventures forth to conquer Troy. And then he makes that long and perilous journey back home. He must reclaim his own house, and win back his own kingdom.
One of the reasons that Homer’s epic is so fundamental to all western literature is that it portrays the universal pilgrim’s quest. The spiritual journey of all of us. To go forth in our world of achievement. And then to make our way back home and reclaim who we are. As the Zen prophets would say: To look into the face of who you are before you were born. It’s the same drama, in one way or another, throughout literature. It is ‘plot’ itself. Spartacus was drafted into the Roman Army against his will. He deserted and led a series of bandit raids. Eventually, he was captured and enslaved … trained for the gladiator’s ring. Sometime during the first century, he escaped with 70 fellow gladiators and gathered an army of other escaped slaves. Some say it eventually exceeded 90,000 soldiers. They defeated whole Roman garrisons and spread terror throughout the ruling class of Italy. He built a reputation of being humane, especially with his enemies. While the authorities feared him, the oppressed found in him a hero.
And while he became the symbol of revolution, all he wanted to do was get back home. Eventually, he was captured and crucified. In the movie by the same title, there is a touching scene at the very end. As he hung dying on the cross, his wife held up before him his infant child … a clear message that what he fought for would continue. The journey back home would be completed. It’s like the spirit within us yearns to find rest in the security and self-confidence of our own hearts. … Making no pretense to the world before us. Absorbing no inflation or put down from the world around us. Just in knowing that the simplicity and goodness of who we are, at the deepest level … is wholly and acceptable, embraced in the grace of God. [TOP]
In our journey to our Self, what gets in the way the most is our self. Unraveling that paradox is the whole struggle of being religious. Christianity calls this Hubris – which gets translated as Pride, or Selfishness. The idea is based on the story of Adam and Eve. The fundamental temptation of humanity is to "play god" over one’s private little kingdom by imposing one’s standards of right and wrong. Or as it is symbolized in the story of Adam and Eve, by partaking of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. All problems in humanity can be traced to this: people playing god over their own little kingdom by imposing on others what they believe to be the best good.
Paul, in his well known love chapter, 1 Corinthians 13, discerns between True Love and Selfishness. The New Revised Standard Version translates this as: "Love does not insist on its own way. It is not irritable or resentful." The J. B. Phillips’ paraphrase renders this as: "Love is neither anxious to impress, nor does it cherish inflated ideas of its own importance." The King James Version translates this as: "Love is not puffed up." That image captures it for me. We can get a picture of a balloon, being blown up. A person puffed up with themselves is like this balloon … and hence the Proverb: "Pride cometh before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall."
In the scripture lesson this morning, Jesus told a parable. Notice how clearly the text defines the audience. A group of people who "trusted themselves that they were righteous." The real villains in Jesus’ teaching are not the so called "sinners." The real villains and targets of Jesus message were the religious folks. Two men went up to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a Tax Collector. Notice how the Pharisee prayed. "I thank you, God, that I’m not like these other people. Look how religious I am. I fast. I tithe. I do all the good things. The Tax Collector had trouble looking up. For him, it was like standing on the shores of the ocean and realizing how small he really was. Jesus is clear that everyone who exalts themselves well find themselves humbled, and anyone who recognizes their fundamental humility will be exalted. [TOP]
A week or so ago, I attended the Tibetan Buddhist ceremony here in our Haver Hall. As I stood there listening, I wondered why is there so much division among our world’s religions. In some fundamental ways, they are talking about the same things. The Lama spoke about the root of suffering. To find freedom from samsara (the cycles of life and death, if not also the ups and downs in life), we must cut the taproot of suffering. And the taproot of all suffering is the illusion of self. And all the energy we pour into defending and upholding that sense of self. All the anger and anxiety, worry and frustration. If we could let go of self, and feel ourselves not as isolated beings but as functional parts in the whole matrix … we’d be home.
There’s a story about a Himalayan monk who went up into the mountains to meditate. Paraphrased and modified from Jean Smith’s book, Breath Sweeps Mind (a book about meditation) page xiii, he found an isolated cave and settled in. The idea of meditation is to still the mind and eliminate the sense of ego so one can open up consciousness. But as soon as he adjusted his posture and settled his breathing, he found his mind still restless. Thoughts bounced from one thing to another. So like most of us do when we try to meditate, he became distracted in the task of fixing up his meditative space. He swept the cave, prepared an altar, fixed it all up. But still, he found himself restlessly staring at a blank wall. He decided to paint a picture on the wall for a point of focus. With special care, he painted a picture of a fierce tiger – deep yellow and black stripes, eyes penetrating, teeth sparkling. It looked so realistic that every time the monk tried to meditate, the tiger unsettled him.
This is precisely what the creations of the mind can do to us. Some illusions are good. About the self, they can give us confidence and set goals for our achievements. Indeed, nothing is achieved unless we first conceive it. On the other hand, some illusions create obstacles for our spiritual path. They pose before us things to fear, to worry and fret about. They hold in place feelings of resentment, and guilt. They make us irritable, and frustrated. The whole trick of life, and path of religion: Is to become masters of our illusions.
© Ron Sebring [TOP]