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Sermon
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| GETTING OUR KICKS FROM ALTRUISM Quite simply, it’s altruism. That word comes from the Latin for other; it means seeking the welfare of others. It is the opposite of egoism – otherwise pure selfishness. That’s not quite the same as egotism, or constantly big-noting oneself. Altruism and egoism are poles at opposite ends of a scale. All of us fit on that scale: a very small number close to one extreme or the other, most of us around the middle. Good religion moves us away from egoism and closer to altruism. I want to propose four reasons for getting our kicks out of altruism. I
First, the altruist has a lower anxiety level. Look at it this way. Most of our anxieties have to do with things that will impinge on us. The more preoccupied we are with our own interests and goals, the more likely we are to be anxious. The egoist has a very blinkered view of the world. Everything that happens is evaluated for the way it will advance or retard his interests (or hers). Some of you probably know the story of that ambitious young matron who had put her daughter in an awfully expensive boarding school, which guaranteed to turn out sophisticated and successful young ladies. Imagine her consternation at this letter from her daughter. “Dear Mother, I have to tell you that Bert the gardener and I are deeply in love. We have been meeting in his potting shed, and I am pregnant. Also, fire broke out yesterday in the boarding house. I have lost everything but the clothes I am standing in. Love from your adoring daughter.” At this, the ambitious mother burst into hysterical wailing, paced up and down and let her husband cop an outburst. “I’ll never be able to show my face at a cocktail party or the races again.” Next day came another letter. “Dear Mother, I want to correct some things I said in yesterday’s letter. I’m not in love with Bert the gardener and I’m not pregnant. We didn’t have a fire, either. But I got really bad marks in maths and physics, and I wanted you to keep things in perspective.” To be a little more serious for a moment about ‘perspective’, Jim Schembri wrote this in last Tuesday’s AGE: “Saturday is Remembrance Day, but most people won’t bother to stop for one lousy minute to honour our war dead. Yet when it comes to watching a bunch of glue factory candidates trot around in a circle on Melbourne Cup Day everyone has to stop whatever they’re doing. Hey, never mind Pozieres and Gallipoli, this is important.” As we said, the altruistic person has a different perspective on things, and commonly a lower anxiety level, because he’s not hung up on Number 1.
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Second, the altruist has a formula for the miseries. One of the few (very few!) sermons I remember was on Paul’s injunction “Bear ye one another’s burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ.” (Gal.6:2) The preacher made the point that if you are lumping a heavy suitcase, it actually helps you to pick up someone else’s in your other hand (provided, of course, that your hands are strong!) Carrying two cases can actually be easier than carrying one. I could tell you of a young minister, ordained at 25 and flung into a busy provincial city church. He had two services every Sunday (11 and 7), was regularly on the air with ‘thoughts for the day’ at breakfast, ‘epilogues’ at bed-time, a Sunday school of the air and broadcast services at regular intervals. This was in the late 50’s and things were going much better then for churches. Notwithstanding, the occasional difficult person or situation could get him down. Today we would probably say he was somewhat ‘driven’ – very success-oriented. Periodically he would succumb to frustration and fatigue, and wonder if he was in the wrong job. He had a formula. When this happened, he would go through his records and pick out four or five families in which there was serious, gut-wrenching trouble. Then he would take off and visit each one, hear their stories of woe, hold their hands and help them stay upright. His own burdens would be lighter to carry, and by the time he got home, he would be back in a positive frame of mind. I know, because I was the young minister. It’s simple enough; when we shift the focus off ourselves and on to someone else who needs us, our own burdens don’t necessarily get lighter, but they certainly feel lighter! III
Third, the altruist enjoys warmer, more trusting relationships. The egoist tends to see other people as means to his ends. In its extreme form, egoism uses and exploits others. They are there to gratify me. And that means relationships are inevitably sullied by unhealthy motives on one side and uneasy feelings on the other. The full-blown egoist is probably the loneliest species on earth. The altruist person enjoys warm, trusting relationships. To illustrate, let me take you back to that reading we heard from the Hebrew scriptures: Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi. With her husband Elimelech, a tribal leader from Bethlehem, Naomi had been driven by famine into the land of Moab. They were accompanied by sons Mahlon and Chilion, who in time married local women; Mahlon married Ruth and Chilion married Orpah. But tragedy struck. Naomi’s husband Elimelech died, and so did both of the sons. So we now had three widows, the eldest of them a foreigner. Not surprisingly, Naomi wanted to go back to her own people. This is where the story becomes very tender. Orpah goes back to her people, but Ruth refuses to leave her ageing mother-in-law. This is where she says, “Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people will be my people and your God my God.” (Ruth 1:16) Naomi says, “Go with your sister-in-law.” She wants what is best for the young widow; her chances of remarrying are obviously better among her own people. But Ruth is adamant. “No! Where you die, I will die.” You probably remember the rest of the story. With a little sanctified scheming, Naomi arranges for Ruth and Boaz to get acquainted, and then everyone lives happily ever after. Ruth has a son, named Obed – who is the grandfather of Israel’s King David and an ancestor of Jesus! IV
Fourth, the altruist gives a great bequest to the world. No life has ever been without meaning; even the stillborn puts a mark forever on parents and grandparents. The evil person leaves an indelible mark, but so does the good person. What altruistic persons leave the world is a legacy of kindly acts, an example by which they will be remembered. That is the most handsome bequest you can leave. I said at the start that this morning’s message came to me out of the stories of three widows; Ruth and Naomi – but who is the third? It’s not accidental that Mark’s gospel couples two incidents that allegedly take place in the temple while Jesus is teaching there. First is his warning against religious teachers who love to walk about in flowing robes and be greeted respectfully in public, and to have the front seats in the synagogue and the best places at dinner-parties. He denounces these people for their egoism and for their exploitation of the vulnerable. Then follows this little vignette. Mark says Jesus sits down opposite the temple poor box, and watches people putting money into it. Many well-to-do people put in big sums. Then a poor widow comes up and drops in two little coins. Jesus says, “Believe me, this poor widow has put in more than all the others. They put in what they could easily spare, but she in her poverty who needs so much, has given away everything, her whole living.” And even though we don’t know her name, she is for us immortalised in the gospel story. She is your classic altruist, whose bequest is her example. I want to end with this story. One Sunday in 1936 I started in Sunday school kindy at St John’s Presbyterian Church in Glenhuntly Road, Elsternwick. We sat in a ring, and we learned a song that has stayed with me the intervening seventy years. It was written around the middle of the 19th century. The composer was Susan Warner, who wrote novels for young people under the pseudonym Elizabeth Wetherell. Her best known was “The Wide, Wide World”; in popularity this was second only to “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”. Warner also wrote hymns for children, among them “Jesus bids us shine.” That is based on Jesus’ word to his friends: “Let your light so shine before people that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in heaven.” Martin Luther believed that every Christian had a place in the world, a calling or a beruf (in German). This was another way of saying we all have a ‘corner’ in which we have been placed – a spot which is ours to light up. We can’t light up the whole world, and some people use that as an excuse for doing nothing. But God doesn’t expect us to light up the whole world; rather to light that place where we are set. I learned that when I sang “Jesus bids us shine with a clear pure light, like a little candle burning in the night. In this world of darkness we must shine – you in your small corner, and I in mine.” ___________________________________________________
An address presented by the Rev Dr John Bodycomb at St Aidan's
Uniting Church North Balwyn, on 12th November, 2006 IT MAY BE REPRODUCED WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENT. |
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Page updated 16/11/06