The proud climb high to touch the sky,
But lose their footing by and by.
The lowly kneel upon the ground,
And by God’s hand, are lifted ’round.[1]

At the annual church potluck, Brother Harold arrived early, proudly carrying his “famous” seven-layer casserole, a dish that, in his mind, had already achieved legendary status. Every year he made sure to set it right in the middle of the serving table, just so everyone would see it. He even leaned over to Sister Agnes and whispered, “I put mine next to the deviled eggs so the contrast of good and evil would be symbolic.”
But this year, something went wrong. When folks started serving themselves, they kept skipping his casserole. Turns out, he’d accidentally grabbed the sugar instead of the salt when cooking, seven layers of sweetness where none should be. As Harold watched everyone politely pretend to “already be full,” he felt his casserole dreams crumbling faster than a church cookie. Then, across the table, he noticed shy little Emily, the new member who had quietly brought a humble bowl of mashed potatoes. Everyone was raving about them. People asked for her recipe, seconds disappeared instantly, and the pastor even asked if she’d make them again next Sunday.

By the end of the evening, Harold smiled sheepishly, scraped his untouched casserole into the trash, and said, “Next year, I’ll just bring potatoes and a little humility.” And somewhere, you could almost hear Jesus chuckling, “For all who exalt their casseroles will be humbled, but all who humble their mashed potatoes will be exalted.”

In an interesting section of the Bible, the place in between the Old & New Testaments is a humble set of writings called the Apocrypha. One of those letters is called Sirach. It is considered wisdom literature. Here is what it says, regarding the proud who “reach for the sky but lose their footing, by and by:

Give to the Most High as he has given to you,
and as generously as you can afford.
For the Lord is the one who repays,
and he will repay you sevenfold.
Do not offer him a bribe, for he will not accept it
and do not rely on a dishonest sacrifice;
for the Lord is the judge,
and with him there is no partiality.”[2]

In this reading, we hear a prayer that warns against becoming like Brother Harold with his seven-layer casserole. The author reminds us that we cannot bribe the Most High. We cannot mock Him, and we cannot dictate how His will is to be done. That’s an important reminder, especially when we want our best efforts to be appreciated by everyone around us.

Further along, in regard to the lowly who “kneel upon the ground, and by God’s hand are lifted round,” we hear:
"He will not show partiality to the poor;
but he will listen to the prayer of one who is wronged.
He will not ignore the supplication of the orphan,
or the widow when she pours out her complaint."

Shouldn’t God favor the poor? But think again, just because someone is poor does not mean they are humble. Little Emily’s mashed potatoes were not blessed because she was poor, they were blessed because she was humble. God hears the cry of the widow and the orphan, but He calls all of us to humility, whether we have much or little. It’s about the posture of our hearts, not the size of our offerings.

In our second reading, Paul writes with a confidence that could almost sound proud: “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.”[3] Paul’s confidence doesn’t come from ego; it comes from surrender. As we heard in last week’s message, Paul endured great suffering, and even in his weakness, he glorified God. Paul didn’t use sugar instead of salt in his spiritual life, he seasoned his faith with endurance, humility, and service. God humbles the proud, but He lifts up the humble. There is divine justice in that, a justice rooted not in punishment, but in love.

Then we come to Jesus’ parable, the Pharisee and the tax collector.[4] The Pharisee stands tall and thanks God that he is not like “those other people.” The tax collector, meanwhile, can barely lift his eyes to heaven, simply praying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” It’s easy to see ourselves as the humble one in that story, but Jesus reminds us how subtle pride can be. Sometimes we’re proud of being humble. That’s why He says, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Why do we exalt ourselves? Maybe because we were never told how beloved we were as children. Maybe we’re still searching for affirmation, still longing to be noticed, appreciated, or praised. So we climb higher, reach farther, or like Brother Harold place our casserole right in the middle of the table. But the truth is, when we lift ourselves too high, we lose our footing. Instead of filling our emptiness with Christ, we sometimes fill it by putting others beneath us, often without even realizing it. So let us be cautious. Let us not be the proud who reach for the sky and fall, but the humble who kneel upon the ground, because it is God’s hand, not our own, that lifts us up.

As Brother Harold learned, sometimes the Lord teaches humility at the potluck table and that’s grace. Because the God who humbles us is the same God who raises us, again and again.
[1] Sirach 35:12-17
[2] 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
[3] Luke 18:9-14