Just recently I was watching a movie that I think this very distinguished audience would never watch. It was a spoof called “Naked Gun.” At the opening of the movie, the hero is singlehandedly beating up all the tyrants and dictators of the world who had gathered together for a cup of tea. When he arrives back in the USA, there is a crowd of people and reporters alike, anxiously waiting. Someone shouts, “There he is!” and the camera pans to our hero. As a stewardess carrying flowers comes up to him, he says, “No flowers please,” and continues walking. He sees the podium, and goes up to the podium and starts telling the crowd, “You all came down here to get the hot story, didn’t you? Sure, you think I’m a hero, the man of the hour..” And everyone looks at him like he’s nuts. His friend turns to him and says, “They’re not here for you. Weird Al Yankovic is on the plane.”
I’m sure we can all recognize this as a classic caricature of the overly confident, but completely incompetent, anti-hero. The one who has no clue what is going on, but thinks that everything is all about him. It’s pretty easy to see this person as suffering from pride. Because the normal idea we have of pride is of people who think only of themselves – that they think the world revolves around them.
But pride hides itself in various ways. It hides itself in people who take offense at other people disagreeing with them or calling people stupid just for having a different perspective on things. It hides itself in not listening to other people or what they have to say, and instead just waiting for them to finish so that we can keep telling them the wonderful things we obviously have to say. It hides itself in telling people we are fine when we are physically or emotionally in pain, because we don’t want to seem weak or needy. Or, more apropos to our particular setting this Sunday morning, it can hide itself in something as simple as telling people “You’re in my seat,” and expecting them to move.
The truth is that we all suffer from some form of pride. Like, I would prefer not to tell you I watch stupid movies, and that instead I watch movies like Amélie, Schindler’s List, or The Brothers Karamazov with Yul Brynner. It’s because I want you all to think well of me; that “I am so smart. S-M-R-T.” 1
To understand pride, in all its various forms, we need to also understand humility. The two go hand in hand. If there was no such thing as humility, we wouldn’t even have a word for pride, because everyone would behave the same way.
So, what is humility? Humility is looking at ourselves and recognizing our talents, our skills, and our gifts, and judging them without prejudice. It means that if our community is confronted with a problem, we can assess our skills against others and determine if we are the right person for the job. It involves understanding our own skills and talents, and knowing that we are good at something. But, if someone else comes along who has more skill, and is more capable, we step down, and hand it to them. It recognizes when our own abilities are not up to the task at hand, and that someone else is better able to do the job. In one sense, humility is right, or correct “pride,” because it recognizes our limitations, and doesn’t try to maintain control when someone with more skill comes along.
On the flip side is false pride, what is often called “vainglory.” The structure of the word should give away some of what it means: “vain” and “glory.”
In his book, “The Capital Sins,” Rev. Gerard Weber has this to say about the difference between humility and pride:
“The humble person acknowledges talents, successes and failures, neither seeking nor placing high value on praise from others. The proud person seeks praise and first place and is miserable when denied it.”2
“The proud person attributes achievements and virtues to personal powers and blames moral lapses on someone or something beyond one’s control.”3
“A humble person has solid self-esteem that holds up well in adversity. A proud person is always seeking to bolster self-image by taking credit for more than is fair.”4
As you can see, humility is a form of pride, but it is a form of pride that is rooted in a fair assessment of one’s own capabilities. Pride, on the other hand, is self-seeking, and cannot acknowledge when others possess superior skills or capabilities. It is all about being first, about winning, and about being recognized as important for no other reason than that we exist. And, I probably don’t need to add, but this type of pride has no connection to reality, or the facts. It is a figment of our imagination, a lie.
The Gospel today provides us a glimpse into this tendency of humans to exhibit “vainglory.” Jesus noticed something peculiar about the guests, that they were moving about, trying to choose the places of honor. In a wedding feast in Jesus’ time, tables were arranged in a “U” shape, with the host at the top of the “U.” The guests of honor were then put next to the host; the most distinguished guest was to the left of the host. Everyone else was ordered according to social rank, so that those with the least rank were at the bottom of the arms of the “U” shape. In the case of this wedding feast, it seems that the people were choosing their own order based on how important they thought they were. That is, they were determining who had a higher social ranking than the other. And, of course, they wanted to be closer to the host, to “get the hot story,” and be close to the hero, the “man of the hour.” And Jesus tells them, gently, through a story, that they should knock it off, because they are full of pride. Instead, they should be humble, so that the host can call them out and bring them up from that lowly place to the place of honor. Those who demote themselves will be promoted, and those who promote themselves will be demoted.
To the one who had invited him – his host – he says that this man should not invite people so that he can expect to be repaid for his kindness. I find this interesting, the fact that he turns to the person who invited him and says this. You see, there’s a couple of odd things about this. First, we hear at the beginning of today’s passage that the Pharisees were watching him closely. But, the interesting part is that he was invited by one of these Pharisees – those same people that were watching him closely – for a wedding feast. That means that at least one of the Pharisees either liked Jesus, or thought him interesting enough to invite him to the party. Or, perhaps, he was inviting Jesus and the other Pharisees, so that those other Pharisees could continue to watch him closely. In any case, it sets up this man to either be repaid for his kindness in inviting Jesus, or to be repaid by the other Pharisees, who were invited to a party where they could keep an eye on Jesus to make sure he didn’t break the Law. No matter what way you slice it, this host was probably looking for a silver lining in any possible scenario. Hedging his bets, as it were.
And Jesus tells him that instead of looking to invite people who can repay him, he should invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. That would be the source of his blessing, Jesus says. To seek to be repaid in this life is receiving his blessing in the here and now. That is precisely why Jesus is targeting this man. Because when you are acting out of pride, it takes away the joy you have in the present moment. It is focused not on the things we have and the achievements we have accomplished, but on the things we desire to achieve, and the things we hope to possess. It looks to the future, rather than the present. This man was not enjoying the wedding feast, but looking for ways to increase his standing and his wealth, – preparing for repayment – no matter which way the cookie crumbled. This Pharisee, Jesus’ host, must have thought he was pretty smart.
And here, in his response to this man, Jesus is declaring that God’s desire is that we do these things with no expectation of reward; to view all people as worthy of dignity and respect; to make it so that we do not see our social standing as something that defines us – or, more to the point, that social standing is not something that defines other people in our eyes.
Our standing – our real standing – is not based on what we have achieved or our wealth and health. Instead, it is based on God’s love for us. As Rev. Gerard says, “A realistic and honest love of self realizes that we are loved by God who sees good in us. We accept that love even though we recognize that we are not perfect and must continually try to do better.” The Trappist monk, Vincent Dwyer says that “on Judgement day God will not ask whether we succeeded but whether we tried.”5
And this is what Jesus wants from his host. Not to worry about trying to succeed according to his own definition of success, but to try to do better according to God’s view of the world.
The Gospel of Luke has more images of table fellowship – of eating together – than any other book in the New Testament. It is in the act of eating together that people are made equal, as each person eats the same food – whether or not there is a hierarchy in the seating arrangements; everyone is invited to the party, and takes part in the meal, because that is what God desires. In Luke’s Gospel, the table goes from being a tool, something mundane that holds your food, to a symbol of life under the reign of God.6
Take this altar for instance, and the Great Thanksgiving that is prepared on it. When we come up here and take part in communion, does God view any of us as better or worse than the other? Or does God look upon each of us as a beloved child?
When we come to the table for communion, it makes no difference if we are rich or poor, important in the eyes of society, or full of power and prestige. What matters is that we all stand before God and partake of the Eucharist as equals – that is, as Children of a merciful God who loves us. There are no hierarchies with God, no people that God loves more than others.
Inviting people to the wedding feast, as apparently Jesus’ host did, with the expectation that others would repay him for his kindness, was relying on his social standing. He had the best seat in the house at his own feast, but wanted to make sure he would get the best seats in the houses of those who repaid him with an invitation to their feast. These things, the social hierarchies, do not define us in the eyes of God.
But, if we use these things to proclaim our own identity as Very Important People, then they will end up being our downfall; these things, if we rely on them to define us rather than the fact that God loves each an every one of us, then these same things will be what condemns us.
As the Trappist monk says, “On Judgment day God will not ask whether we succeeded but whether we tried.” And our job is to at least try to push away these human-made boundaries, to get rid of these things that define us in the eyes of the world, to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”7
Again, this sort of behavior, this respect of every person takes humility, and that can only come when we acknowledge that we are beloved children of God. And if we are beloved Children of God, then so is anyone who is not looking back at us in the mirror. It doesn’t mean lording it over other people, or looking for the best seat in the house, but with deliberate and unbiased eyes to look at ourselves and others with humility, as dignified and distinguished and beloved children of God.
Let us do that. Or at the very least, try.
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on January 5, 2025.]
