Community Lenten Service: “Walk Humbly with your God”.26
Micah 6:1-8
The Rev. Melanie L. McCarley

If you are to step into the Cathedral Church of Our Lady, in the city of Copenhagen, you will find yourself standing in a central space, decorated with the restrained elegance and simplicity characteristic of the Nordic people. Once there, you cannot help but find your eye drawn to an arresting figure dominating the area near the altar. Here, stands a giant figure of Christ, with his hands, outstretched. Walking closer, you will see lettered on the pedestal the words “Come unto me.” It’s impossible not to note the beauty of the general effect, the fine hands, the tender, expressive eyes. But there is something strange about the face. The eyes are downcast; you cannot see them in the invitation suggested by the outstretched hands. What to do? If you want to capture the full effect of Jesus’s face there is only one way you can do this—you must kneel at his feet and look upwards. If you wish to receive the benediction of that gaze, you must humble yourself before the Lord. It doesn’t matter who you are, wealthy or poor, name studded with degrees or of no education whatsoever—everyone who comes before Christ is equal—if you want to see the eyes of your Savior, you must kneel.

Throughout this season of Lent, we have been invited to ponder the words of the prophet Micah: “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

What does it mean to be humble? The word “humility” finds its root in the Latin word “humus” meaning (earth). It calls to mind the words spoken to us on Ash Wednesday “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

There’s something universalizing about the beginning of the Lenten season on Ash Wednesday. On this day there can be no pretentions about who you are and where you come from. As we shuffle forward to have the ashes imposed upon our foreheads in the shape of a cross, each of us—from oldest to youngest, wealthy or not, able bodied or frail, each of us is reminded of who we are (in a word)… dust.

There’s a gift that comes with humility—and it’s found in the other qualities of being human that God expects of us: Justice and Mercy. If you think about it, Justice and Mercy are dependent upon Humility—for only those who are truly in touch with who they are—in relation to everyone else—are in a position to understand the true importance of Justice and Mercy, not just for some, but for everyone. Looking closer at the passage from Micah we come face to face with the expectation of our God that we be a people who don’t simply give a passing glance to justice, but actively do it; and aren’t people who happen to think that Mercy is a fine concept—but actually love it; and aren’t simply cognizant of the definition of “humility” but choose to walk it. The choice of verbs isn’t incidental. This isn’t a passage where God intends for us to “know” certain things, God expects us to “do” them.

The reading for today chosen from the Gospel of Matthew is known as the Beatitudes. There are actually two versions of the Beatitudes in the Gospels, one from Luke and the other from Matthew. Their words are similar, their emphases is different. Luke’s version teaches us that God cares about the poor, the hungry, the hated, and the reviled, that God cares about the material circumstances within which people are living and how others treat them. Matthew’s version teaches a way of walking humbly with the God who cares about these things. In his gospel he presents us a way of life to which we can aspire. Luke’s blessings reveal something about who God is. Matthew’s blessings imagine who we might become – people who do justice, who love kindness and walk humbly with our God.

Earlier in today’s service we prayed for people who have been killed or are suffering. I added up the numbers. The total I came up with was 356,848. Realistically, we know these numbers are higher—and I suspect, if given just a few minutes to consider, we could add others as well. It’s a staggering figure. And it’s difficult to wrap our minds around the fact that these numbers represent the unique lives of individuals, each with their hopes, dreams and perhaps even values not so different from our own. I suspect, if we were to engage our humility, we would agree that from the loving gaze of Jesus, it matters less whether these individuals were “right” or “wrong”, “guilty” or “innocent”, or simply standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, than it does that they are loved by God. As people loved by the Lord, who cannot speak for themselves, it is our responsibility, as people of faith, to do that for them—to seek justice, to embody compassion and humbly intercede, not only on their behalf, but on behalf of ourselves and all the people of this world who stand in harm’s way.

The Book of the prophet Micah was written during the fifth and sixth centuries before the common era. It was a time of severe injustice, idolatry, and corruption in Judah and Israel. Perhaps it doesn’t take much of a leap for us to move from that era to our own. In the prophet’s words, God is angry at social injustice and idolatry. In fact, God is so disappointed and angry that the people of God are placed on trial. And who is the jury—but the hills and mountains of the Holy Land—creation itself. The people know themselves to be guilty—and they ask themselves what they should do to assuage the righteous judgement of God, that presumably is coming their way, asking: “With what shall I come before the Lord…Shall I come before God with burnt offerings? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams? With ten thousands of rivers of oil? Or perhaps even my firstborn? And Micah responds: “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.”

The Good News, both for the people of Micah’s day, and our own, is that our God is a God of love. And, in the end, God is far more merciful that ourselves, even at our best. Here is what we know. We are mortal. We are fallible. But we are not hopeless. We are animated dirt—called from the ashes to be a people God loves. And as those who are loved, we are to love others by doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with our God. We are invited to walk into the outstretched arms of our Savior and to kneel, looking into his eyes—knowing that we are God’s children, and all others in the world about us are our siblings. Those outstretched arms—they are surely meant for us; but not only ourselves, they are meant for all others as well. In Jesus’ name. Amen.