Download 22OT8.29.10 - Old St. Joseph`s Church

Fr. Dan Ruff, S.J. – Pastor
Old St. Joseph’s Church, Philadelphia
22nd Sunday OT-C (8-29-10) – 9:30 a.m.
This is from David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, Chapter 16:
I found Uriah Heep reading a great fat book, with such demonstrative attention, that his
lank forefinger followed up every line as he read, and made clammy tracks along the page (or so
I fully believed) like a snail.
'You are working late tonight, Uriah,' says I.
'Yes, Master Copperfield,' says Uriah. 'I am improving my legal knowledge, Master
Copperfield,' said Uriah. 'I am going through Tidd's Practice. Oh, what a writer Mr. Tidd is,
Master Copperfield!'
'I suppose you are quite a great lawyer?' I said, after looking at him for some time.
'Me, Master Copperfield?' said Uriah. 'Oh, no! I'm a very umble person. I am well
aware that I am the umblest person going,' said Uriah Heep, modestly; 'let the other be where he
may. My mother is likewise a very umble person. We live in a numble abode, Master
Copperfield, but have much to be thankful for. How much have I to be thankful for in living with
Mr. Wickfield!'
'Then, when your articled time is over, you'll be a regular lawyer, I suppose?' said I.
'With the blessing of Providence, Master Copperfield,' returned Uriah.
'Perhaps you'll be a partner in Mr. Wickfield's business, one of these days,' I said, to
make myself agreeable.
'Oh no, Master Copperfield,' returned Uriah, shaking his head, 'I am much too umble for
that!'
The passage I have just read describes David Copperfield’s first conversation with Uriah
Heep – one of the great comic characters of English literature. I share it this morning because
the scriptures we have just heard exhort us to humility – and Uriah Heep is the quintessential
caricature of humility personified. In the book, Heep is, in actuality, anything but “umble.”
Instead, he is ambitious, meddlesome, and utterly lacking in moral conscience; but he makes a
great outward show of playing the unctuous toady and the yes-man, using this façade of pious
humility to ingratiate himself with the rich and the powerful.
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My fear is that many of us who have been raised as Christians mistakenly equate the
virtue of humility with a more sincere and heartfelt variation on Uriah Heep’s groveling selfeffacement. We assume that it somehow pleases God and edifies others when we endlessly
focus on our unworthiness, our smallness, and our failure to be what we aspire to be. We
rehearse our inadequacies, and we routinely turn aside the simplest of compliments. If others
harm or malign us, we equate forgiveness with saying: “Oh, don’t worry about it; that’s okay.”
Or even if we can’t quite stomach such behavior, we at least imagine that it must be what true
humility should look like.
To all that I say, “Hogwash!” Jesus was known, in his earthly life and ministry, to treat
everyone – but especially the poor and the marginalized – with utmost respect and dignity.
There is no indication in the Gospels or anywhere else in the Bible that Jesus or his Father would
ever take delight in human beings treating themselves as voluntary doormats. As a matter of
fact, I think God’s response to such self-degradation is more likely what was depicted in the
movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, where God appears to King Arthur’s knights who are
praying for mercy and growls: “Stop groveling! It’s depressing!!”
My point is that humility is a virtue often misunderstood, and consequently, poorly
practiced. So what does the real thing look like – the authentic virtue of humility that is pleasing
to God? For starters, the origins of the word itself are illuminating. “Humility” comes from the
Latin root word “humus,” meaning “soil” or “earth.” In fact, “humus” is also an English word
which refers to the dark, rich, loamy soil which is sometimes used to enrich or fertilize a garden
plot. By the word’s roots, then, we might say that “humility” refers to the virtue of being “down
to earth,” or “well grounded.”
The scripture we heard from the book of Sirach seems to say as much. Humility, the
author seems to say, is about knowing yourself and being who you are – no more, no less.
However great you may be in the eyes of human beings, there are things that are “too sublime for
you,” things that are “beyond your strength.” If you are honest with yourself in the sight of God
and others, you will admit this, and you will not overreach yourself. In fact, the author of Sirach
assures us, the great who are wise enough to be authentically humble – to be God’s creatures
who trust and depend on God – will “find favor with God.”
Consider the example of the great British novelist, Somerset Maugham. Throughout his
life, he kept close at hand an old, cracked cup which he had used while on board a small cargo
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ship during his escape from war-torn France in 1940. Throughout that trip, the ship had been
crowded, the weather hot, and water had been rationed. For years afterwards he would point to
the old cup and tell his friends, “That was what held my daily allowance of water. Whenever I
feel myself getting a bit stuffy,” he would add, “and inclined to take the comfortable places I stay
in and the good food I eat for granted, I fill my cup at the tap and drink it – slowly. It brings me
back to earth again in quite a hurry.”
As for the Gospel parable we heard from Matthew about the banquet, we need to
understand that in Jesus’ time and culture, it was strictly required of a host that she seat her
guests in “proper order.” The most important received the highest and most prominent places at
the meal. Others were seated in descending order of importance. Once everyone was seated, all
you had to do was look around to see, by their placement, how important (or not so important)
each guest was in the eyes of the host.
As he so often does in telling a parable, Jesus upends this socially accepted order. First
off, guest though he is, he effectively usurps the role of the host by telling his fellow guests how
to choose their own places at a banquet. He also recommends that guests be certain not to seat
themselves above their rank – not sitting “down low” so as to grovel or demean themselves, but
so as to avoid the risk of embarrassment that would result from being “demoted” in the eyes of
all. Genuine humility – modesty, if you will – is always the safer bet.
Most shocking of all, Jesus goes on to recommend that when we are hosts ourselves, we
should not “invite [our] friends or [our] brothers or [our] relatives or [our] wealthy neighbors” –
all the very people whom we typically would invite to dinner! And why? Because we might be
looking for repayment in kind. And what’s wrong with that, we might ask? Apparently, it is
hedging our bets, acting from enlightened self-interst. It is not giving freely and selflessly of our
God-given gifts, which we know to be ours only by God’s generosity and love.
Thus, the authentically humble person is the one who can say from her heart, “It really
isn’t about me!” It is pride that exalts and glorifies me, conveniently forgetting that all that I am
and have is God’s gracious gift. Humility, as the opposite virtue, focuses on always praising and
thanking God. Remember the Blessed Virgin Mary’s humble prayer from a couple of weeks
back: “My soul proclaims the greatness of God, my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”
The author of one of the preaching blogs which I consult writes that he recently “saw
[Jesus’] parable reenacted on [the evening] news” in a story about Bruno Serato, the owner of a
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fancy Italian restaurant in Anaheim, California. His high-end clientele are the rich and famous in
Orange County, not far from Disneyland. However, Bruno is also on the board of the local Boys
and Girls Club, a national organization that helps poor children. In the part of town where the
Club is located, many poor children live with their families in cheap motels. In 2005 Bruno’s
mother, Caterina, came to this country for a visit. After showing her his fancy restaurant he took
her to see the kids at the Club. When she saw their poverty she turned to her famous chef son
and ordered, "Feed them!" And that’s what he has been doing ever since–every day for the past
five years.
Bruno serves the children a meal each day: not burgers and fries, but a dinner of the same
fancy food he cooks at the restaurant. The director of the Boys and Girls Club says, "The kids
love it! We have some of the poorest children in Anaheim eating from one of the most exclusive
restaurants every single night." With the recent downturn in the economy the number of children
eating at Bruno’s has increased, while the number of patrons at his restaurant has declined. As a
result, he has been losing money and has had to mortgage his home so that he could keep feeding
the children. Still, he says, he will not stop feeding them. "Never!" he says.
Bruno, my sisters and brothers, is a man well grounded and down to earth – an
authentically humble man. He generously does all that he can with what he has been given, even
to the point of sacrifice, without feeling ill-used or hard done by. He does all this in a spirit of
gratitude, trusting in God’s continuing care for him going forward. Bruno is no doormat; he
knows that he matters, and he is changing his world one meal, one child at a time. But he doesn’t
expect to be worshipped for it; he understands that worship is reserved for God alone.
Jesus likewise gives himself to us as food and drink at this banquet table. We approach
each week humbly acknowledging our own sinfulness; and Jesus then invites us to come up
higher, to share in his own Body and Blood. Jesus continuously gives us his all, sacrificing his
very self to give us life. And then we are sent forth, God-touched and frail, blessed far beyond
our merits, to be like Bruno, like Jesus – humbly and freely to share that God-given life with
others.
©2010 Fr. Daniel M. Ruff, S.J.
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