Winter Fire: Christmas With G.K. Chesterton--Luke 14:11

Day 20

We were out to dinner last night with a golf buddy and his live-in at I suppose would be called a swanky Italian restaurant.

(Owned and staffed by Albanians, I found out from the server–but I guess they wouldn’t get as many customers if the sign read Gio’s Albanian instead of Gio’s Italian. Like I told our server, the only Albanians I know about are the bad guys from Taken).

Anyway, the couple we were out with are The Serious Couple.

They know their food and know what is best and what isn’t and take on a strange glow when they talk about meals they have sent back that didn’t meet their expectations.

(Later, in the car, I told Karen I don’t think I’ve ever sent anything back before in my life–never mind positively GLOW recounting it. Karen has never sent a meal back either).

Of course, and this is probably easy to guess, they don’t DO Christmas.

They don’t have a tree up. They don’t decorate their immaculate, well-appointed house. I believe he said, they give each other cards–no gifts though. That would be silly, he said, we can just buy what we need.

He also said he hated New Year’s Eve.

We don’t usually do much that night either–but hate is a little strong there.

Undoubtedly, on their drive home, Karen and I were tagged as the Silly Couple.

And we are, I think, because we believe in what G.K. Chesterton calls “real fun.”

He writes in The Immortal Power of Astonishment and Laughter:

“The truth is that there is an alliance between religion and real fun, of which the modern thinkers have never got the key, and which they are quite unable to criticize or to destroy. All Socialist Utopias, all new Pagan Paradises, promised in this age to mankind have all one horrible fault. They are all dignified. . . But being undignified is the essence of all real happiness, whether before God or man. Hilarity involves humility; nay, it involves humiliation. . . Religion is much nearer to riotous happiness than it is to the detached and temperate types of happiness in which gentlemen and philosophers find their peace. Religion and riot are very near, as the history of all religions proves. Riot means being a rotter; and religion means knowing you are a rotter.”

I had to look up that “rotter” is British slang for a person who is despicable, unpleasant, and worthless.

I don’t think Chesterton means exactly that–but I do think he means “rotter” as an undignified person, who maybe has a hard time knowing the difference between fusilli and bucatini or not knowing that eggplant can be male or female.

Or who get ridiculously involved with the Christmas season, like 8 year olds who get their first bikes from Santa.

And being undignified, means that I am maybe closer to humility than I ever think I am.

“Rotters” can laugh at themselves–because we know how imperfect we are.

In Winter Fire: Christmas With G.K. Chesterton, Ryan Whitaker Smith describes humility–or what Chesterton calls being a “rotter.”

“Humility means not just that we are unworthy, but that we know we are. Many people are “riotous rotters,” but “religion means knowing you are a rotter”--being painfully aware of your own weakness, sinfulness, brokenness. But thanks be to God, we are not only unqualified sinners, but unqualified sinners saved by His mercy, and His mercy alone.”

Whitaker Smith relates Jesus’ words from Luke 14:

Luke 14:11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.

I’ve always related this verse to stop being a loudmouth, jerk.

In other words, pipe down and let things be and maybe consider folks who don't want to be part of my comedy stage show all the time.

In Humility and Pride , Dr. Art Lindsley defines what is happening in this verse:

“In the Luke 14 passage the context is a banquet where Jesus sees people choosing the seats of honor for themselves. It is better, Jesus says, to take a lower place and have the host say, “No, no, no, that will never do, come up higher,” than to take a higher place and have the host say, “No, no, no, that place is reserved for another, (how dare you!) come down lower.”

Like Jesus’ disciples, I’m no good at it either.

But I do understand that I have many, many limitations–in my ability, in my moral performance, in my knowledge (I always forget what capers are, which was mortifying to The Serious Couple) and my sinfulness that makes me imprecate people I don’t understand.

I can’t just say, either, that I’m not humble enough and practice being humble as if it were the daily specials that our server Enzo has to remember every night.

I can only reach humility by drawing closer to God.

David Mathis writes in Humble Yourself–Like God:

“Humbling first belongs to the hand of God. He initiates the humbling of his creatures. And once he has, the question confronts us: Will you receive it? Will you humble yourself in response to his humbling hand, or will you kick against the goads?”

When Dawn passed I was scourged down to my bones with grief and loneliness and finally, FINALLY God must have been thinking, I fell to my knees.

It’s only then, when we are humble and humbled, that we can experience the hilarity of humiliation–to be “rotters” who can laugh at themselves and “riot” in our religion.

Karen and I split the daily special which was mahi-mahi with a tasty sauce over penne and I laughed every time that delicious, savory sauce slid through the pasta tubes and splashed on my vest.

Undignified at best, a humiliation, assuredly to The Serious Couple.

Shrug. 🙂

Lord, help us to walk in humility, not seeking recognition or glory for ourselves, but always pointing others to You. Guard our hearts from pride and selfishness, and fill us with the heart of Jesus.

Lord, let our lives reflect the humility of Jesus, who came not to be served, but to serve.

Amen.