Listen: Joseph Rises Above His Dreams, sermon by Rev. Dr. Penny Nixon at Congregational Church of San Mateo on September 27, 2015
My blog reflection:
Yesterday we continued Joseph’s story and watched him climb up the “U-Curve” or “parabola” of his continuing narrative. When we left Joseph the week before, he was in a pit, both literally and metaphorically. He found himself in one of his life’s low points, forced to consider his trajectory. Hopefully the stories of our own lives are a bit less dramatic than Joseph’s, but no matter how grand or small our narratives are, most of us can identify with the story. Life brings hardships our way… and sometimes we are culpable. As Penny pointed out, though, the things that nearly destroy us are often the things that save us. Such experiences often build strength that we carry onto our next challenge. Sometimes we need to feel like we have failed in order to develop further.
When Penny talked about the song she sang as a child (about being a weed in God’s garden), it was obvious to most of us that we needn’t develop an extreme response to our own human failings. None of us should go through life feeling like a blemish on the face of God. However, I think much of society’s reaction to this “beating-down” kind of religion has been equally extreme. I’m reminded of my nephew’s middle school promotion ceremony, at which every student received an award regardless of their accomplishments or lack thereof. While no 5-year-old should be told they’re a weed, it seems irresponsible to celebrate academic mediocrity and to validate laziness. I think David Brooks is calling us to a middle path: humility, which he articulates as “radical self-awareness from a distance.” Self-awareness doesn’t require us to beat ourselves up for sins we don’t have, nor does it celebrate mediocrity. Humility isn’t obsession with our flaws, but honesty with them in a way that allows us to see ourselves as part of the web of humanity. We can reject obsession with sin without thinking we are exempt from it. Adam and Eve’s story may be one of original blessing, but they were still capable of failing.
Developing our characters is hard work that for many of us, requires an experience that may parallel that of Joseph. A strong character requires more than the vague morality that society often sells us. Penny suggested that working on your moral core can be like working on your physical core (like at the gym). Holding a plank pose might look easy, but it’s not. True moral strength requires us to confront our low places, humble ourselves, and operate with a sense of radical self-honesty, which can be very hard work. As Penny used the metaphor of the plank exercise at the gym, I thought of how I eliminated that very exercise from my own home workout-- it was too hard! While I can forgive myself for deciding that my physical strength is not a “core” (ha?) value, I had to extend that metaphor. In what ways might I be giving up on moral strength? As much as enduring the discomfort of exercise has its rewards, so does enduring self-criticism. Am I trying to improve myself, or am I allowing my faults to go unchecked? When someone tells me I’m being difficult or suggests ways I might improve, am I willing to hear it, or do I respond defensively? When I feel badly about something I’ve done or the way I said something, do I confront those feelings within myself, or do I brush them off and “not let them get me down”? Am I being honest with myself, or trying to protect my ego?
Joseph, ultimately, owns his strengths and uses them for great good, but he was only able to do so because he confronted his misuse of such strengths and the ways that he used them to build up his ego. By the end of his story, he wasn’t using his talents to leverage his position in his family, but to help his family and the nation. I hope to return to his story to remind myself of the perseverance necessary for developing character.
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