A sense of self-smallness - July 5, 2009
A SENSE OF SELF-SMALLNESS
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
July 5, 2009
For as long as I’ve been alive, the Fourth of July has been a day for parades, fireworks, picnics, and barbeques: a day of national boasting, celebration, fun, and joy. So you can imagine my surprise when I read recently that it used to be a national Prayer and Repentance Day – a solemn occasion for contemplating the tremendous political step taken on that day in 1776, and a serious moment for considering the weight of responsibility we all hold as members of a democratic society. Instead of party time, the Fourth of July and the days surrounding it used to be days for national repentance, humility, and heartfelt prayer. The psyche, the soul of America used to take itself much more seriously and considered itself much more humbly.
Humility isn’t a trait that has much appeal. We like to see ourselves as a “can-do” culture – bursting at the seams with good ideas, good intentions, and good results. Humility, on the other hand, suggests to us a feeling of helplessness. It is the quality that admits there are things we cannot do, problems we cannot solve, forces we cannot control. This “can-not” admission clashes terribly with our “can-do” attitude.
Today’s epistle text can appear as confusing and paradoxical to us as it was to Paul’s opposition in the Corinthian church. They had sought to engage the apostle in a good old boasting contest, a battle of one-upmanship, in order to determine whose words should hold the most authority in the Corinthian church. But Paul turned the concept of “boasting” upside down, and instead of laying claim to all his great works or listing his accomplishments, he would boast only of his “weakness.”
It seems a peculiar, paradoxical assertion, but it is not outside of our own national experience. We look back at the leanest, cruelest years of the Great Depression and see in them the time of greatest strength in our communities and families. We recall our single greatest naval defeat, the attack on Pearl Harbor, and see exhibited in it the greatest spirit and loyalty of this nation. We remember the darkest, most evil years of legalized segregation, discrimination, and Jim Crow and see in them the greatest demonstrations of love, commitment, bravery, and selflessness among the civil rights workers. We made a movie to relive the tension and the helplessness of watching a crippled Apollo 13 hobble slowly back to Earth, and see in it the prayers and the hopes of the whole country.
These insights offer a glimmer of understanding that when we are weak, we are made strong. Only when we keep our true frailty directly in front of our eyes can we keep a clear vision of our selves and our mission. A sense of self-smallness takes our greatest weaknesses and binds them to the power of God. True humility transforms our souls.
In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul admits to having experienced one of the most exalted epiphanies anyone has ever had – a personal tour of the third heaven and access to information “no mortal is permitted to repeat.” But instead of swelling up with pride or spiritual arrogance, recalling this vision drove Paul to an appreciation of his smallness. He responded with a deep sense of spiritual humility.
It was a similar experience of self-smallness, I believe, that inspired Katherine Lee Bates, head of the English Department at Wellesley College, to write patriotic verse. In the summer months of 1893 Miss Bates was visiting and teaching in Colorado. While viewing the countryside from the summit of Pikes’ Peak, which towers more than 14,000 feet above sea level, she was moved to write a national hymn that would describe the majesty and vastness of our great land: “America the Beautiful.” She explained: “It was there, as I was looking out over the sea-like expanse of fertile country spreading away so far under the ample skies, that the opening lines of this text formed themselves in my mind.”
Later that same year, Miss Bates visited the Chicago World’s Fair. On the site of the Columbian Exposition magnificent buildings had been erected, every structure such a masterpiece of planning, construction, and beauty that thousands of people came from all over the world to marvel at the splendor. She explained: “The expression ‘Alabaster Cities’ was the direct result of this visit. It made such a strong appeal to my patriotic feelings that it was, in no small degree, responsible for at least the last stanza. It was my desire to compare the unusual beauties of God’s nature in this country with the distinctive spectacles created by man.”
Her text both sparkles with descriptive language and shines with spiritual humility. Each stanza extols our nation’s natural beauty, Pilgrim heritage, liberating heroes, and visionary patriots, but concludes with an earnest prayer that God will always help our land to attain its real destiny. Every stanza is rounded off with an appeal to God’s greater power, a plea that our greatest strengths may be manifestations of God’s will and that our greatest weaknesses may be transformed by divine grace. Like many other people, I think that “America the Beautiful,” filled with idealism and a sense of blessedness, best expresses the heart of America and should be our national anthem.
Perhaps we can keep the parades, the fireworks, the picnics, and barbeques each Fourth of July, as long as we temper the celebration with some prayer and repentance; as long as we are moved to an appreciation of our smallness in relation to God’s greatness; and as long as we respond with a deep sense of spiritual humility.