Lord of the Streets, Houston
August 31, 2025
Proper 17, C
Sirach 10:12-18
Psalm 103:1-8
Luke 14:1,7-14
Pride, to feel that I matter above anyone else. Pride, to be so angry when someone hurts me, insults me, or looks at me wrong, that I hurt or insult them back, because after all, I’m more important than they are. Pride, to turn inward, putting walls up around me, letting no one in because it’s safer that way and I don’t need anyone else anyway. In all of these ways, pride is to forsake God.
We heard in our reading from Sirach that the beginning of pride is to turn away from God, to pull our hearts away from God.
When we pull our hearts from God, then we assume that we are all-sufficient, that we have no need for others, that we trust no one and nothing. When we pull our hears from God, we have pride leaving us alone, hurting, often with violent anger which lashes out at others. As we heard in Sirach, however, neither violent anger nor pride were made for human beings. We’re not made to be prideful and violently angry. We’re made to be loving and supportive towards one another. We find our full humanity in being loving and supportive towards one another. When we withdraw and isolate in pride and violent anger, we pull further and further away from our own humanity.
Sometimes when I’ve seen folks get violently angry, or gotten terribly angry myself, I’ve heard folks say things like, “but he insulted me,” as though being insulted is a good reason for beating someone, punching and hurting them. Talk about pride leading to violent anger. He insulted me; he wounded my pride, so I am going to get violently angry now.
Ok, so on the one hand, that’s all too human. We strive, we struggle, we get hurt, we make mistakes. We lash out. We isolate. We’re human; we mess up. On the other hand, pride and violent anger take away from our true humanity.
Our true humanity dwells in love. Our true humanity dwells in forgiveness. Our true humanity dwells in kindness and in caring about others.
I preached several weeks ago about Mr. Rogers. He was someone whom we tend to put on a pedestal. He was like a saint, so wonderful and kind. Ok, but Jesus was telling us not to put people up on pedestals in the teaching we heard today. When we put some people up on pedestals, we tend to devalue others. These great ones are so wonderful, and these others are, eh, not as good.
When we put folks on pedestals, we also tend to elevate them even above ourselves. They are someone great, not someone like me. They can be kind, and caring, and wonderful because they are special, somehow, not like me. We tend to do that with people like Mr. Rogers, and his widow was adamant that people not put him on a pedestal. After all, Mr. Rogers believed all of us can be people of kindness, forgiveness, love, and caring. If we assume that we can’t, that people like Mr. Rogers are saints and we can’t achieve that, well that’s just another kind of pride.
I’m different. Someone else can do that, but not I. I’m not special enough to be able to be as kind and caring as that person is. The reality is that for Mr. Rogers and anyone who is kind and caring, it’s a choice and it takes work.
For any who think that Mr. Rogers was a saint, and I can’t do that, the truth is that it may just take more effort than we’re willing to put in. We’ll, if we’re unwilling to put in the effort, that’s the same kind of pride that says, “I matter above anyone else. I matter too much to waste my time working to be kind, forgiving, loving, and caring to others.”
When we put people like Mr. Rogers up on a pedestal as some kind of special saintly person and we tell ourselves we can’t be that good, we are forsaking God and others, because it is safer and easier not to have to work so hard. Overcoming our pride takes work. Not lashing out in violent anger takes work. Living into our true humanity takes work.
For Jesus, it took the work of the cross. “Father, forgive them,” he prayed, as he allowed himself to be crucified, rather than calling on hosts of angels to rescue him and kill his killers. That was Jesus’ work for our sake, to free us and to help us live into our true humanity.
“Take up your own cross and follow me,” he said. We don’t have to be crucified, but living into our true humanity takes work.
Sometimes that work looks like daily, hourly, or minute by minute prayer for God’s help so that we might live in kindness, rather than lashing out at others. Sometimes that work looks like sharing our difficulties with others and asking for their help so that we might live in love and caring, rather than pride. Sometimes that work looks like taking medicine because our brains need extra help to live into our true humanity, to overcome depression, violent anger, and other mental illnesses that we face. All of that work is what we can do to live into our true humanity.
Jesus taught us not to take places of honor, assuming we’re better than everyone else. Sometimes that means not putting others up on pedestals, as we refuse to do the work it takes to live into our own true humanity.
I had a friend, years ago; we were talking about the saints, and she said, “I don’t want to be a saint.” She was thinking of being a saint as being kinda miserable, giving up everything that makes you happy so that you can be good enough for God. That’s not what being a saint is; that’s just being miserable. No, being a saint looks like doing the work you need to do to care for others. Being a saint looks like recognizing that we are all in this life together.
At the beginning of our service this morning, we sang, “Satan, we’re gonna tear your kingdom down.” Satan, the Adversary, keeps us divided. Satan keeps us saying, “We’re not in this together.” “You don’t belong.” “I’m more important than you.” “We’re against one another,” or at the very least, “You’re against me, so I must be against you.”
In all of those ways that we remain against one another, we’re helping to build up Satan’s kingdom. When we exclude the undesirables, put others on pedestals, and determine that being kind and caring to others is too much work, we’re helping to build up Satan’s kingdom.
Now, long-term, big picture? Jesus has torn Satan’s kingdom down. While we get to live out Satan’s kingdom if we choose to, Satan’s kingdom has ultimately been torn down, by Jesus on the cross. So, we get to live Jesus’ kingdom.
We get to live the kingdom of kindness, mercy, love, and caring, and even if we have been building up Satan’s failed and doomed kingdom, we always get to come back. Jesus welcomes us with open arms, saying, “Come on, let’s start building together.” Living and building Jesus’ kingdom is work, but think about how much more work it is to live against one another. Think about how much more work it is to live with pride and violent anger?
Following Jesus’ way, doing the work, and building up Jesus’ kingdom, we get to let go of our pride and violent anger. We get to live and work for kindness, forgiveness, love and caring for all.
