“What matters most” is a worship theme and a call to contemplative action. It has been a question calling out to many of you, in the context of our time and place, as we feel again and anew the suffering caused by racism and the effects of its poison, to one degree or another, on all of us. And so, Katherine and I invite us to consider what matters most, in such a time as this, when racism still divides us. It is an old and weary conversation, but one that, if we are willing, can be turned around, with results that lead us to new places of peace and understanding.

But spiritual conversation about our deepest wounds is hard work. So many words get lost, that’s what the reading affirms. The words leave the mouth and lose their courage, or they are spat out into the space between us, or whimpered or shouted, falling short. The realities of others very like and unlike us, are sometimes are not expressed, or often, not welcomed, unheard. And in such a time as this, when we are more plugged in and seemingly more connected than ever, still, suspicion, misunderstanding, and disparity divide us. To have a new conversation, to make true changes, where do we begin? I invite you to consider that question for your own spirit. And I share with you that I decided to begin with my own heart, with the white privilege that I carry around unconsciously, to start by listening to the nervous, defensive chatter that I hear in my own head and sometimes coming out of my mouth.

The truth is that sometimes when I am afraid or defensive or have face to lose, or reality to experience, or new learnings that may unmoor the luxury liner that is my life, I am loathe to open my ears or my heart to hear and then to incorporate another’s reality. You may share in that struggle, I don’t know. To incorporate is a phrase that literally means to take in to the body, into my sensibility, another’s lived experience. But what do I do, sometimes, when faced with the realities of others’ pain that I may not wish to incorporate? Well, I talk louder and faster with erudite platitudes that will secure my self-image and my place.

Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble. It is hard to be humble, because I want to establish how open-minded and educated and generous I am. It’s hard to be humble, because often I, maybe you, so sincerely want to help with resources and power, and am sure that I hold the right to assert my well-meaning opinions and solutions–when maybe the best way I could help would be to sit down, get centered, and then have some humble pie. Humble pie is the appetizer course for the entree of what matters most–deep listening.

The idiom “to eat humble pie” is said to have originated from a fourteenth century term “umble” (u-m-b-l-e) which refers to the organ meats and entrails of animals that were chopped and typically used as the filler for pies eaten by the poor. To incorporate into the self humble food. The great preacher Charles Spurgeon once said, “Humility is a right estimate of one’s self.” Neither thinking too much of ourselves nor too little, learning the great life challenge of balance, perspective, seeing clearly our lives, others’ lives, our troubles, others’ troubles, our achievements, others’ achievements, and our impact, for good or for evil, experiencing all of that with clarity is the foundation of humility.

We know, however, that humility and humiliation are not the same thing. We are not called to be doormats. We are neither more nor less important than anyone else. Humbly, I want to listen, to trust outside of my own experience, to be willing to wade into my own platitudes and attitudes, and most of all, without judgment or justification, to be fully present to another’s reality, humbly seeking that connection that goes beyond cans and string, social media, or cell phones.

Spiritual paths themselves invite us to open-heartedness as a way of right living. Judaism teaches that God requires followers to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly. Jesus teaches his disciples to be humble like a child. Islam teaches, “I am the servant of Allah, I sit like a servant, I eat like a servant.” In Buddhism humility is part of the path to enlightenment and freedom from suffering…and in Taoism, the Way leads to humility and to a peace not achievable through coercive power or military might.

Humility as a spiritual value, and as the foundation for deep listening means that I remember and honor who I am, that I am still so that I can listen to hear and to acknowledge and to honor who you are, that we all remember our connection to Earth and to other sentient beings. Humility is a spiritual, emotional, psychological reality check…. we aren’t God. We aren’t doormats. With humility, I accept my place as one among many others, and walk lightly upon the holy ground, remembering that the words “humility” and “human” both come from “humus” or earth.

And may we learn to let go of attachment both to fame or to failure–for when I am hooked on either the glory of my successes or on the agony of my mistakes, then I am imprisoned in my own drama and still unable to be present for the gifts that come from deep listening to another. A wise prophet once wrote, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit all of you who listen.” (Ephesians 4:29)