TRINITY XXI, Year C: October 28 2007

The prayer of the humble will pierce the heavens
Preacher: Fr Andrew Greany

I find myself wondering how the Pharisee and the publican would go down in a culture which encourages self-affirmation and self-confidence, while frowning on a self-critical introspection. Appreciate, rather than depreciate, that's how we should get on with life. To the houses of such a culture, we might say, the Pharisee would go down justified, rather than the publican. But so might St Paul, if indeed it is he addressing Timothy... I have fought the fight, I have finished the course, henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness which the Lord will award me on that day. No shrinking violet there. Despite St Paul in that sort of mood, the Christian religion often gets a bad press for, among much else, encouraging people to go on about their sins and weaknesses, even as that publican, not so much lifting our eyes up to heaven; and so perhaps we should applaud Paul's confidence. We're up against the vexed question of humility here, what it is, how we express it, what it does to us, and, not least, how it relates to the way we pray (which is what the Pharisee and the Publican were doing after all).

There is, and we may well see something of it in ourselves, a rather sad form of humility when remarks like 'I really am no good at this' are in fact an appeal to everyone else to say things like: 'no, no, don't say that, you're actually incredibly gifted'! Or even sadder, perhaps, when something in us wants, or rather needs, to appear hopeless and useless... when there's a kind of wiring which disposes us to present ourselves as the lowest of the low; tragically, that's how we understand ourselves, and therefore expect others to understand us. None of this has much to do with a faith in God who saw all that He had made, and behold it was very good, in a God who identifies Himself with humanity by being made flesh. Nor has it much to do with the prayer of the publican. Humility, being of the earth, is about realism... acknowledging that we are of the earth, with the limitations and the possibilities that this entails. There is a prayer of the scholar Erasmus which asks that our spirits may be enlightened, in order that the night of sin and the mists of error may be driven away by the inward shining of Jesus Christ. These words include a realistic acceptance first: this 'night of sin': that we do experience a darkness, and a stumbling in that darkness, which we call sin. We recall St Paul in another mood... the good which I want to do, I do not do, the evil which I don't want to do, that's what I do. We flounder in the addictions of selfishness and self-indulgence, in the debilitating attentiveness to self, rather than to the other. We keep putting ourselves in the far and alien country of the prodigal son, or in the grumpy self-righteousness of the older brother. There is a 'night of sin'. Second: the mists of error: here's another piece of realism, that there really are things which we do not know and need to know (or at least to explore), that we do see through a glass darkly: that we cannot package God in a box and clutch Him under our arm or put Him safely in a cupboard. He is always ahead of us, or He's encountering us as a stranger, as in the story of wrestling Jacob which we heard last week, or He's reminding us that the foolishness of God, Christ crucified, is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than our supposed strength. There are 'mists of error', not least when we claim that we've got God taped, our conversion process done and dusted. But it is not comfortable to be in the hands of the living God.

So: two pieces of realism, part of accepting that we are of the earth, in the night of sin and in the mists of error. But that's not the end of the story. Erasmus' prayer is that our spirits may be enlightened by the inward shining of Jesus Christ. This is equally an aspect of true humility, of earthiness, if you like. For Jesus Christ did not clutch at equality with God, but was found in the likeness of humanity, that is, He was found to be of the earth. But furthermore, in that humanity he shone through, and overcame, both the night of sin, and the mists of error. He demonstrated, and made possible, a human life illuminated by the spirit of God, living out the way of love and service, and a life of total attentiveness, obedience, to the God who calls again and again, the God who wrestles with us, but remains faithful, even when we say 'why hast thou forsaken me?'

Earlier on I said, 'how does humility relate to our life of prayer?' Last week, our preacher, in encouraging us to pray constantly and hopefully for sensitivity and understanding among people of different faiths (let alone, it might be said, within our own faith communities), mentioned the Jesus prayer: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy upon me a sinner'... a prayer which may be used reflectively and steadily as the background to any day and any activity, any waking hour. At first hearing, it might be that the second part of this prayer brings us back to the publican and our questions about humility. Let us connect it with Erasmus' prayer, confessing awareness of the night of sin and the mists of error. But let us also link its opening words with Erasmus' prayer for the 'inward shining of Jesus Christ'. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God... here is the key for all who in humility have accepted that they stumble in the night, and that there are things which they do not know, or which they have interpreted mistakenly. The truly humble rejoice that there is a light in their darkness, a model for their journeying and exploration. Jesus Christ, the Lord, the Son of God made human, is the bright morning star who banishes the deeds of dark sin; He is the Wisdom of God whose spirit encourages and guides us within the mists of error and humble but realistic questioning. It is my hope that our forthcoming course, focused on the Incarnation, the making human of the eternal Word who humbled himself, made himself of the earth, may play some small part in opening our eyes to that bright Morning Star, very Sun of the world, as Erasmus puts it, ever arising, and never going down. May the prayer of the humble, piercing the heavens, be our prayer, and the very Sun of the world be our light.