Kerry was having what she thought would be a routine premarital conversation with a young couple, when it took an unexpected turn, moving suddenly from logistics to theology and Presbyterian history. Kerry was asking a series of questions in preparation for the service in the sanctuary. Will there be bridesmaids and grooms? If so, how many? Do you want candles? A written bulletin? Do you want to use a kneeling bench – as some couples do when the wedding prayer is offered?
“Oh no,” was the quick reply from the couple. We’re not Catholic or Episcopalian. We are Presbyterians – and Presbyterians don’t kneel!”
Although Kerry was surprised by the vehemence of their answer, it was not the first time she had heard that sentiment. Her staunchly Presbyterian father, John, who some of you knew since he was a member here, was known to say on more than one occasion, “Presbyterians kneel to no man.” As it turns out, John and that young couple were right – but only half right.
If you have seen a season of Games of Throne or a Shakespeare play, you know that kneeling was important in the hierarchical world that existed when the Reformation leaders came along. Kneeling before a king or lord was a sign of the greater status of the one who remained standing. It was also a sign of unconditional loyalty, and submission on the part of the one kneeling. Kneeling before a priest or bishop, as any lay person would do when they approached for communion, or for a private meeting with that religious leader was a sign of the greater status of that religious leader. And, kneeling was a sign of that lay person’s unconditional submission to the authority and orders of that priest or bishop.
In saying we kneel to no another human being, the Presbyterian reformers like John Calvin and John Knox were asserting that while leaders are to be respected, they are not to be blindly followed. “God alone is Lord of the conscience” was a watchword for Presbyterians then, and they understood that leadership was to be shared between clergy and elders. No leader, whether clergy or lay, had higher status before God than those they led.
What our Presbyterian ancestors were reminding the church is that we are all equal before God. We come into this world naked and we will go out of this world naked. We baptize infants as a sign of God’s grace that claims us before we even know what is going on. And we understand that the ground is level before the cross.
John and that Presbyterian couple were right – but only half right. We do not kneel before any human master; but we do kneel before almighty God. For Presbyterians, or Episcopalians or Catholics, or for Christians of any denomination, the crucial question is this: do we ourselves stand with feet astride, head flung back, master of our destiny, captain of our fate – or do our hearts know what it means to kneel and bow down before a greater power? Do our wills know what it is to yield to a sovereign God?
Many times, we Christians can get things turned around. We think of God as our servant, the One from whom we can get what we need, rather than that we are intended to be God’s servants. How often do we speak of worship as a time when we get something – comfort or strength or inspiration or a battery recharged – rather than a time when we offer or give something to God – kneeling in body or spirit to give praise and thanksgiving to God? To offer our very lives to God?
Look at the incident we heard today from Mark’s gospel. Jesus has just told his disciples that because he submits and offers himself to God, “we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death…”
In response, two of the disciples, the brothers James and John, immediately ask Jesus what they can get. Can they have the two seats of status at the table with him – sitting to his immediate right and left?
How dispiriting that must have been for the Teacher. Jesus tells them, “Guys, you “need to focus on serving, not seating.”[i] He distinguishes the way of God from the way of the world: “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But that’s not the way it is going to be among you; whoever wishes to become great among you must be a servant.” Humility.
In our second text today, from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are reminded that Jesus did not only talk the talk. He walked the walk – and showed us how we are to live: “Let the same mind be in you,” Paul writes, “that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard quality with God as something to be grasped or exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a [servant] being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient” to God.
“Humbled himself.” This week’s fruit of the Spirit, humility, may be the most misunderstood of all of the fruits of the Spirit. Too often when we think of humility, we picture a person who is always putting themselves down, or who is a simpering milquetoast afraid to speak up, or the martyr who keeps saying, “oh, you go ahead and take the best seat,” “you go first, I don’t mind,” so often that they resemble a marshmallow more than a person.
The church has sometimes contributed to such a picture over the years, counseling humility to those who were already overlooked or undervalued by society. Women, in particular, have too often been taught that being humble and meek meant their opinions didn’t matter and they should not need to aspire to be leaders. Some women have even put up with abusive husbands because they think humility means serving such a husband as master.
But that is not the picture of humility we see in Jesus. Being humble does not mean that we let people hurt us. Being humble does not mean that we do not get angry, that we do not have opinions, or that we need to feel worthless or perpetually guilty. Being humble is not about denying one’s gifts or putting one’s self down.
Jesus was humble, but he was not guilt-ridden. Jesus did not despise himself, even though others did. Jesus had no problem speaking up and challenging the authorities. Jesus was confident and strong in who he was and what he was meant to do. With love, courage, and humility, Jesus submitted to God’s will all the way to the cross; but he did not submit to any human authority.
As C.S. Lewis once put it, “true humility is not thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less.” To be humble is to think of ourselves less – whether it is on the positive side, that is, focusing on our accomplishments and the compliments we receive from others, or whether it is on the negative side, that is, focusing on our self-described failures and the slights we have received from others. Either way, we focus less on ourselves and more on God. To be humble is to think less of our goals, our accomplishments, our failures, and more about God’s will for our lives.
And when it comes to other people, it is not a matter of putting ourselves down in comparison to other people. We simply stop making any comparison. This is the way of humility, the way of Christ.
Tony Bennett, the basketball coach at the University of Virginia, gave us an example of such humility at the press conference last month in which he explained his decision to retire. He noted that two of the pillars of his coaching philosophy and his life are “humility” and “passion.” A strong Christian, he defined “humility” using words from the Apostle Paul: “know who you are and have sober judgment.” And, he defined “passion” as “not being lukewarm but living wholeheartedly in all that you do.” After a time of reflection and prayer, when he looked at himself with such sober judgment, he came to realize that he lacked the passion at this point to be the leader of the basketball program that the players and his coaching staff needed. So, he determined that he needed to step down as head coach.
To live humbly, but with passion, what might that look like in our lives? As a parent? As a friend? As a manager or co-worker or neighbor?
In the words of Ted Lasso in the tv series of that name, we might show more curiosity and less judgment. We might listen more, pay attention more, seeking to understand first and then to be understood (Stephen Covey). We would be less concerned about getting credit and more concerned about getting God’s work done. And, we would be more willing to admit what we don’t know and when we need help.
What might it look like to live with humility and with passion as a congregation? As a community and nation? In the book that some of us in the FaithFULL Housing team are reading that addresses our local and national affordable housing crisis, the authors say this about any “solution:” “the key…is humility. Emptying our minds of as many preconceived notions about the problems and solutions in a place as possible…We are trying to understand, from the perspective of those who [are encountering the issues] where the struggles are.” Only when you understand the problem from the bottom up can you find even a partial solution, the authors counsel.[ii]
God knows it can be hard to draw a hard line between being a doormat that others walk over, and being pushy, shoving people out of our way. But in this hard, jagged, aggressive world, God gives us the model of Jesus Christ, the power of Holy Spirit, and the support of the community of faith, to help us live humbly, gently as God’s servant.[iii]
Christian Herter was the governor of Massachusetts a number of years ago. “He was running hard for re-election…and one day he arrived late at a barbecue…he was famished. He stepped in line before others.” Then when he got to the servers and received one piece of chicken, he said to the server, “Excuse me, do you mind if I get another piece of chicken? “Sorry,” the woman replied. “I’m supposed to give only one piece to each person.” “But I’m starved,” he repeated. To which she said, “Only one to a customer.” Herter decided it was time to use the weight of his office and said, “Madam, do you know who I am? I’m he Governor of this very state.” “Do you know who I am?” she answered. “I am the lady in charge of giving one piece of chicken to each person. Move along.”[iv] I can’t say for sure, but I am guessing that she was a Presbyterian.
We Presbyterians cower before no leader, no office. But we do kneel before the One who “did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” And we do seek to follow his example of serving others.
Let’s get ourselves out of the way, accept the chicken we are given with gratitude, and move it along. Like it or not, life isn’t all about us.
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[i] Sharon E. Watkins, “For who is greater, the one who is at the table or he one who serves?” in What Did Jesus Ask?, Elizabeth Dias, ed. (New York: Time, Inc. Books, 2015), 201.
[ii] Charles L. Marohn, Jr. and Daniel Herriges, Escaping the Housing Trap: The Strong Towns Response o the Housing Crisis (Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, 2024), 161.
[iii] From a sermon by Rev. Kerry Pidcock-Lester, preached at First Presbyterian Church, Pottstown, PA, November 15, 1998.
[iv] C. Thomas Hilton, Ripe Life (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), 63.
