What's Wrong with Being Right?

September 24, 2006 Readings: Psalm 54 & Mark 9:30-37

The problem with claiming to be righteous is that we don’t know if we are righteous. Sometimes not. Probably not. The problem with claiming to be the greatest is that we have no idea how great we are. Sometimes not so great. Not very great.

The word “righteous” means that we are right with God. Aligned with God. Aligned also with God’s created universe. And aligned with what God’s wants. If we are righteous, things are smooth. No swimming against the stream. No splinters in the walkway. No squeaks. Being righteous is moving in parallel with God.

The problem with thinking we are righteous is that we think that we are right. Righter than most, in fact. So much righter that the others who are not right are in fact wrong. And the problem with that is this: that if we think we are right because we are doing exactly what God wants, then people who are wrong are against God and people who are right, like us, are with God. And so whatever we do, God is right behind us every step of the way. God is on our side and we know it for absolutely sure. And since God is in our corner—not, please note, that we are in God’s corner—then we can do pretty much what we think without restraint. We are the greatest. We come first.

Some of you may have noticed that the psalm that we recited today was missing a few verses at the end. That’s for two reasons. The first reason is that I wanted us to hear clearly the words of comfort in the psalm. The words of the last verse we read: “God is my helper. God alone guards my life.” God is committed to helping us. And only God guards us. That’s good to hear.

And the second reason is that I wanted to talk about the next verse here in the sermon. The next verse after these nice words in Psalm 54 goes like this: “Render evil to those who spy on me; in your faithfulness, destroy them.” The person who wrote this psalm is calling on God to destroy the person’s enemies. To render evil to them, which is perhaps worse. The writer is wishing evil on his enemies. You can tell that the writer of the psalm considers himself to be pretty much in the right and that he is confident that God agrees with him and that God will therefore kill his enemies and send evil their way. I wonder what makes him think that God would make evil happen. I thought that evil was someone else’s realm.

Jeremiah calls on God, too, in the first reading. “I was like a gentle lamb,” he writes. But not so gentle that he doesn’t hesitate to call on God to send retribution on those who have insulted him. Because the prophet has tried to be faithful.

The trouble with being right, the troubles I guess you have to say, the troubles with being right are two. The first trouble is that you can hurt people in your righteousness. You know what’s good for them, or if not for them then for the world. This is the sort of thing that ends with someone saying “no gains without pains,” or “this is hurting me more than it hurts you” or “you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs” or “the end justifies the means.” It leads almost inevitably to all sorts of sorrow.

The second trouble is that it is very tiring to be right. If you are right and others are wrong then you have to be vigilant. For your sake and the sake of the world. For if the others succeed, or win, or prevail, or take over, then, since you know they are wrong, things will be bad. Unlike if you win or prevail or what have you. So you have a moral obligation to watch out for the un-righteous, the un-right, and when you see them, to fight them. Maybe even to call up evil on them. For the good.

Now the alternative to all this is what Jesus said. First, he wasn’t very big on people who thought they were right or righteous. Second, he preached pretty much the opposite: turning the other cheek and all that stuff. Loving people. Loving your neighbor. Loving even your enemies. Not calling out evil on them. Not calling on the wrath of the Lord God to smite them or to bring vengeance or even to protect you. Some of what Jesus preached made people nervous. Still does.

The trouble with claiming that God is your particular powerful champion is that the other guy can just as easily say God is his particular powerful champion, instead. In fact, that happens all the time. And both of you claim to be right, to know the truth, to speak for God, and to know God’s private cell phone number. Who is to judge? So you fight it out in the usual way: through aggression and violence and intimidation and in oppression and pre-emption. You outdo each other in destruction and pain.

The other way, the way Jesus seems to talk about, is to outdo each other in love. That is a win-win situation. Because no matter who is right, you are competing, if you want to call it that, in being loving. Who can be the most loving. Who can be the most compassionate, the most forgiving, the most generous with your time and possessions; the most helpful. Who cares? It is all good.

The disciples were arguing about who was the greatest. They had the good grace to be embarrassed when Jesus asked them, what were you guys arguing about? That certainly shut them up. They knew it was stupid. Then Jesus tells them that to be first they have got to be last.

The fruits of trying to be first are sorrow and exhaustion. The fruits of trying to be last are joy and freedom. There is a kind of wisdom, writes James, that is earthly and devilish. But there is a kind of wisdom from above that peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, willing to yield. Such wisdom bears fruit, he says, and the harvest is peace.

The opposite of right is not wrong. The opposite of right is to be humble. To not be so darn sure you know what is going on, that you know just what God meant, that you are such a better interpreter of God’s signs and words than someone else. Your neighbor or your enemy or your fellow disciple.

Loving your neighbor and your enemy, praying for them even though you can’t stand them or are afraid of them, is not some sort of trick. Not some magic moral martial art thing. It is a way of being humble. It is also a way of acknowledging that maybe God knows a lot more than we do. Maybe we could admit we are wrong. Maybe we could stop and ask for directions. Maybe we could spend time, resources, and energy to outdo each other in love.