The Uses of Humility
Rev. Edmund Robinson
UU Church of Wakefield
January 26, 2003

	It happened again this week, as it has happened so many times before. My mind is churning over the topic for this Sunday’s sermon, and I open the Globe on Tuesday morning and discover that James Carroll has already written it for me, and better than I could myself.  He writes from Jerusalem, “If religiously grounded hatred can yield here to shared humility in the presence of the holy one, however defined – then equally profound transformation can happen anywhere.”
	Humility is not a topic with which UUs are all that comfortable.  If you do a search for “humility” on the Web, you will come up with mostly Roman Catholic web sites, and certainly not any liberal religious ones.  When I went to choose hymns and responsive readings for this service, I looked in the topical indexes in the back of the hymnal, as I usually do, and discovered there are no entries for humility. 
	This in a denomination which prides itself on its acceptance, its pluralism.  Certainly a bit of humility is implied by our third principle, “acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth on our congregations.”  And humility is also implied from the seventh principle, respect for the interdependent web of all existence.  But I think we have a hard time admitting that humility itself is a worthy goal.  Humility is for the others, the Catholics, the Jews, the monks and nuns and Buddhists.
	In my living room hangs a poster advertising Ken Burns’ film about one of the colossal egos of the Twentieth Century, Frank Lloyd Wright, on which Jacqueline plays piano.  The poster features a picture of Wright with his hands folded, looking out at the camera with a very self-satisfied expression, and below the picture is this quote from him: “At an early age, I had to choose between an honest arrogance and a hypocritical humility.  I chose honest arrogance.”  There is something bracing in this quote, something that seems to sweep away the cobwebs in its brutality.  Humility can be hypocritical, it can be a cover for timidity, for an unwillingness to take the risks that a well-lived life demands.
	As an illustration of hypocritical humility, consider this well-known anecdote from the Jewish tradition.  I thank Mark Golub for helping me flesh out this story, which I half-remembered.  On Yom Kippur Day, the Day of Atonement, when Jews express their regret for the sins they committed the past year, the Rabbi in a small schul (Synagogue) got up, beat his chest and cried out for all to hear: "Oy, I am nothing today!!" Whereupon the Cantor got up, beat his chest and cried out: "Oy, I am nothing today too!!" The President of the Synagogue then got up, followed by every member of the Board of Trustees, they beat their chests and cried out: "Oy, we are nothing today too!!" All of a sudden, a little nebbish (nonentity) named Jakie Cohen, occupying the very last seat in the very last row of the Sanctuary, got up, beat his chest and cried out: "Oy, I am nothing today too!!" The Rabbi turns to the Cantor and whispers: "Look who's calling himself a nothing today!!" 
	You can see the pride and social distinction of the Rabbi and Cantor at war with the words of humility they were pronouncing.  In a similar way, I think often our public pronouncements of acceptance and toleration of other religions masks a conviction that our way is superior to any others.
	Now we get into some tricky terrain here.   Almost all UUs accept religious pluralism, that is, the idea that there is some degree of truth in many religious traditions.   It’s probably the area of strongest agreement among us.  But what do we do when we encounter religions who are strongly monistic.  Conservative Jews will aver that they are the chosen people.  Conservative Christians will claim that the only way to salvation is through Jesus.  Muslims will say that the only way is through Islam.  These religions would deny pluralism, and thus threaten the very basis of our religion.  Now the question is not whether we can tolerate people with such opinions living among us – we see them every day, they are our neighbors, and we know that a great many of them are very good people doing very productive things here in Wakefield.   The question is whether we can admit in our heart the possibility that they might be right.  That their approach might be better.   Will our commitment to pluralism be damaged if we admit that it has its own weaknesses?  That to an Episcopalian or Methodist or Baptist, a Catholic or Muslim or Jew, the UUs may look like an amoeba or a ship without a rudder, formless and centerless and inarticulate?  Can we see some benefits to having a settled body of doctrine?
	This kind of issue comes up not only in our relations with our religious neighbors in town, but even within our own denomination.  You might have hard that our UUA President Bill Sinkford recently touched off a firestorm when he was quoted by a newspaper on Fort Worth, Texas as saying that he wanted to revisit the Principles and Purposes to see if it was time to put “God” into them.    He has since written to the ministers to tell us he was quoted out of context, but he does think that “God” talk should not be banned from our churches.  
	I don’t think it is; I feel perfectly free to talk about God from this pulpit, knowing that there are some of you for whom the word has a negative valence or no meaning at all, and others for whom the word represents the supreme value in your life.  I hope that the freedom which I feel, you feel too.  I hope that we do nothing in this church to intimidate anyone from offering witness from their deepest sources of value.
	If Mr. Sinkford did want to put “God” into the principles and purposes, I would oppose it and so would a substantial body of UU opinion, first because the question was well-considered in the mid-80's when the Principles were formulated and voted upon, but more importantly, because the insertion might be taken by non-theists among us as disenfranchising them.  But if his point is rather to say that the non-theist should not have a stranglehold on what gets said in the churches, I could only endorse that.  
	And I think this gets down to humility. Some of us may be certain that there is no God, others aren’t sure, some will be certain that there is no transcendent dimension to life at all, that what science tells us and what we can perceive with our senses is all there is.  Some of us accord no especial worth to the life and ministry of Jesus, for others he was the greatest spiritual leader to come among us.  Can we within the four walls of this church be humble enough, be tentative enough about our opinions to allow those of differing views the space to express themselves, to grow?
	One among you came to me several weeks ago to report that she felt that she had had a visitation from a deceased loved one.  She had felt her loved one’s presence very strongly.   She also said that she was afraid to even talk about this in her home, let alone her church, because of the pervasive atmosphere of rationalism that prevails in both places.  Her assessment might have been accurate, but if so, how sad.  How will we grow if the deepest and most disturbing experiences cannot be aired among us?  
	For the truth is that there are, as Hamlet says to Horatio,  “more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your poor philosophy.”    The virtue of humility is attested  not just in the teachings of Jesus, but in the founding myth of Western Philosophy, the Apologia of Plato, the speech Socrates supposedly gave at his trial.   In it, Socrates mentions that someone else had gone to the Oracle at Delphi and asked whether there was any man wiser than Socrates, and the Oracle replied there was not.  So Socrates set out to refute this, but he had some problems doing this. Here’s what he said:

I went to one of those seeming to be wise,
because there, if anywhere, I should refute the divination
and show to the oracle, "This one is wiser than I,
but you said it was me."
So examining this one,---for I should not tell his name,
but he was one of the politicians in whose presence
I had this kind of experience, Athenian men,---
and discussing with him this man seemed to be wise
to many other people and especially to himself,
but it seemed to me not to be so;
and then I tried to show him
that he thought he was wise, but he was not.

So as a result I was hated by him
and by many of those present;
and so going away I said to myself,
"I am wiser than this person;
for it is likely that neither of us
knows anything good and beautiful,
but he thinks he knows something not knowing,
while I, as one who does not know, do not think that I do.
Therefore I went away from him
being a little wiser in just this respect,
that what I do not know I do not think that I know."
Now this is often cited as a paradigm both of wisdom – the beginning of wisdom is to know how ignorant we are – and of humility, to be aware first and foremost of our limitations.  But there is a certain amount of pride in it.  After all, Socrates is interested enough in the question the Oracle has posed to go investigate it.  If he were truly humble, maybe he would simply say that what the oracle had said was ridiculous and not go about trying to prove or disprove it.
	Now I called this sermon the uses of humility because it seemed to me that most of us are unlikely to be attracted to the idea of humility in itself, just for itself.  Strong Christians might be attracted to it because it certainly was one of the messages of Jesus.  But many of us will want to consider humility as a means to some other end.  Let me suggest a few.
	First, humility is our opening to other people.  If we are wrapped up in our arrogance, if we are convinced that our way is the only way, we will not be able to have a very effective communication with others.  We won’t be an advocate for our side, we won’t win any converts, we just create a standoff.
	Second, and as a corollary to that, humility is contagious.  As arrogance on our side is met with arrogance on the other, a little humility on our side may let the other back down .  This is what our allies are urging us to pursue in Iraq.  Is the administration prepared to admit the possibility that Iraq may not have weapons of mass destruction?  Are we who oppose the invasion of Iraq prepared to admit the possibility that he does have them?  Is the administration prepared to negotiate rather than invade?  Do we who oppose have any realistic plans to get Saddam to destroy any weapons that he has?
	I recently got an e-mail copy of a letter going out from Wayne Arnason for the UUA Board of Trustees to the presidents of all the congregations.  They are concerned that there are divisions of opinion on that Board, and there will be divisions of opinion in our congregations, overt the war with Iraq.  The letter says
We call on the elected leadership of our congregations to provide and safeguard the sacred space where we can continue to discuss, better understand, and debate public policy. This is how Unitarian Universalists maintain community with each other in difficult days.
	If the Jews, Muslims and Christians meeting in Jerusalem can discuss their differences with humility, as James Carroll notes, let that humility spread to our congregations as we discuss this upcoming war.  Let our humility be contagious.
	On the minister’s chat list, it has become apparent that not all of my colleagues oppose President Bush’s plans for Iraq, and we have had to have some discussions about how we talk to one another.  We have tried to strike a tone of respectful and loving disagreement.  I have also recently engaged with one of my law colleagues over the war.  In both contexts, I tried to confront the criticism leveled against the antiwar position by prowar Americans.  The hawks complain that we doves are always putting America down, that we are always willing to bash this country, that our first instinct is to blame America, and that we even put the primary blame for the attacks of  September 11 on the US.
	Rather than refuting this criticism I have tried to take it to heart, to ask myself, where is my love of country?  For that is what the hawks are asserting.  And when I realize that, I can say that indeed I do love the principles on which this country was founded, and am trying to get her to live up to them.   I want America to be the world’s beacon instead of the world’s bully.  I weep for the degradation of her polity by the corruptions of the present regime, though those corruptions have been going on much longer than the present administration.  
	So perhaps in a conflicted situation, humility will breed more humility.  Ghandi said 
	It is unwise to be too sure of one's own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.
	The third use of humility, I suggest, is probably the most important to us as religious peoples: it is that humility opens us to the transcendent.  As it is stated in Micah, “what does the Lord Require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”    Walking humbly is the only way we can see God or let God act through us.  What I try to do in my ministry is to step out of the way, and let the spirit speak and act through me.  Sure, I’m Edmund Robinson, but I can also be a conduit for the actions of good things to happen in this word, as can each of you.
	Humble submission to the will of God is also essential to Muslims, it is the heart of Islam.  But this idea of humility before the ultimate is not restricted to a theist frame of reference.  Buddhists hold to the doctrine that the self is itself an illusion, that once we realize that, we can realize the true nature of all things.  The most holy men in the traditional Buddhist world are the monks, members of the Sangha, who go about begging for their food every day.
	More generally, a scientific secular viewpoint without a hint of the supernatural in it will still benefit from a humble attitude, from the profound realization of the tiny place of humans in the whole scheme of things.  For years we have labeled all non-theists in our movement as Humanists, but some resist this label on the ground that it puts humanity at the center.  The more we know about the cosmos, the more we realize that we will never plumb its depths, and the smaller we feel.
	For all of us can experience the epiphany, the “aha” moment, if we just let ourselves get out of the way.  That magnificent sunset, pull over on the side of the road and just step out to take it in.  You did not create that, you didn’t earn it, it is a bonus you get for living on the planet earth.  Look deep into space on a clear night; we are a teeming crowd of homonids on a small hunk of rock in a remote arm of an obscure galaxy.  As God asked Job, 
	Have you entered the storehouses of the snow
	Or have you seen the treasuries of the hail
	From whose womb did the ice come forth,
And who has given birth to the hoarfrost of heaven?
	The epiphanies are all around us, my friends, if we choose to see them.  The theists will say that they point to the existence of a transcendent creator, but belief in that is not necessary to experience awe and wonder.  What is needed is what Carroll called shared humility in the presence of the holy one, however defined.
	Martin Luther King Jr. preached  a famous sermon a few weeks before he died, called the Drum Major Instinct.  It related how there was an instinct each of us has to want to lead the parade, to be the drum major, to be accounted truly great by our fellow humans. 
	King said that Jesus redefined greatness by his adage that the last shall be first and the first shall be last, that in order to be a rule you had to be a servant.  Under this scheme, everyone can be great, because everyone can be a servant.
	Then King went on to talk about his own death, which, as we know now, was only weeks away, and to say how he wanted to be remembered.
If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. (Yes) And every now and then I wonder what I want them to say. Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize——that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards——that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school. (Yes) 
I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others. (Yes)
I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody.
I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question. (Amen)
I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. (Yes)
And I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked. (Yes)
I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison. (Lord)
I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity. (Yes) 
Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. (Amen) Say that I was a drum major for peace. (Yes) I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter. (Yes) I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind. (Amen) And that's all I want to say.”

	So I leave you with the thought that we all have the drum major instinct, we all think we are right.  To be humble doesn’t mean that we have to retreat into a Hamlet-style inaction.  We move, walk, speak and act according to our deepest and truest sense of what is right.  But we remain ever mindful that we may be mistaken and our view is certainly partial.  We remain ever mindful that there are others who are not persuaded to our point of view.  We remain ever mindful that we did not create ourselves, we did not entirely make our lives, that we have gotten what we have by the help of others, and that the highest reason we are here is to help others as others have helped us.  I remain, your humble servant and minister.  Amen.