Meekness

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth

- Matthew 5:4

 Like an ox, his head bent meekly, he waited for the blow of the axe which was raised over him -Leo Tolstoy

 Toil itself was a blessed means for making the men more gentle towards each other; just as horses that work together grow gentle, and will stand quietly side by side 

-Xenophon, Cyropaedia (2.1.29)

Once upon a time, in England during the reign of William the Third of the House of Orange (a solid Dutchman if i do say so myself) a prominent Anglican bishop was in the market for the highest quality banquet chairs money could afford.  The bishop himself, being a man of impeccable taste for the eclat and elegant, was always adorned in impeccable ecclesiastical garb with all the necessary accoutrements with an air of regalia which demanded respect.  

At that time, the best craftsmen in the city were the Quakers, a small group of Christians who were known for their simple lifestyles, quaint manners, and gentile friendliness.  The bishop inquired for a certain Mr. Hobart to come and consider the bishop's request.  The next morning Mr. Hobart's apprentice, John Evans, arrived at the bishop's door as Mr. Hobart was out of town that morning.  The bishop's assistant admitted the young Quaker into the main chamber and, which a hint of disdain in his voice, bowed to the cleric and said "My Lord, the Quaker to see you."  John Evans, without a bow or even a tilt of his wide-brimmed hat smiled and yielded a wide grin;

"Good morning, Friend."

Needless to say, the bishop was caught off guard.  As he showed John Evans his banquet chamber and the old chair he thought to himself, "So, this is one of these Quakers.  I have never spoken with one of them before, but have heard that they never remove their hats, bow to prince or power, and address as all 'Friend'.  Even my own wife addresses me as 'My Lord'  while this young, plesant fellow doesn't even tip his cap."  

After taking measurements and instructions from the bishop, writing a few notes, John Evans provided an estimate.

"When will these chair be completed?"  The bishop asked.

"Friend, I cannot say, but Friend Hobart shall be here on the morrow to provide further details and present thee with a final cost."


"Sounds well" the bishop smiled "I will expect him. Many thanks."  


The next morning Mr. Hobart arrived, terribly nervous to say the least.  He had never had a bishop as a client before.  As he hustled across the cathedral ground he practiced bows and attempted a few shaky greetings for the eminence.  Meanwhile, the bishop was concluding a meeting with an array of priests and government officials, gushing over how delightful his meeting with John Evans, the Quaker, was the prior morning.  "I admire that man" the bishop announced "calling even me, the bishop, 'Friend' without even the slightest of bow.  He was completely impartial and treated me like any other person in England.  Surely he must have felt pressure to do so; surrounded by the cathedral buttresses and lavish surroundings.  Yet, he did not bend his humble demeanor a bit.  Come with me and meet this John Evans' boss with me and see what I am saying for yourselves!"

As he finished the bishop's attendant announced the arrival of Mr. Hobart, who by now was quite clammy, bowing low to the ground before stammering out a "My Lord" as he nearly threw his hat off the top of his head.  

The bishop, enduring the smirks and chuckles of the officials and priests alike, shook his head and tersely stated "please sent your Mr. Evans, I will do further business with him" as he headed to his chambers, embarrassed.  Mr. Hobart, confused and slightly embarrassed himself, slowly headed for the door.  But the bishop, a kind-hearted and understanding man, met him there.


"Mr. Hobart, you are a Quaker.  Be one, and do not be intimidated to be what you are not or compelled to act otherwise."

Meekness surely is not weakness.  On the contrary, it is the will and fortitude to stand firm in the midst of temptation and frustration, influence and affluence, the popular and the powerful.  Indeed, the word for meekness in the New Testament is the same word used to describe the taming of a powerful stallion, the controlling of one's spirited emotions (Plato, Republic, 375c) or even the subduing of a god (Euripides, Bacchae, 436).  Meekness is not passivity, it is not shyness, it is not the usual Michael Cera character.  Rather, it is the volition to silence our desire to be the center of attention, the strength to quench our inordinate yearning to appeal to the minority who control the majority, and the difficult task of stiffing the calls of cut-throat success and power in exchange for genuine compassion and self-sacrifice in the very nature of Jesus Christ.  

I find it so odd that it is the meek who inherit the earth.  That's just it; the meek don't want to inherit the earth.  The meek want to get dirty, to dive headfirst into the world, to carry the burdens of others, but they surely have no desire to own, to inherit.  For the meek, it is never about power, ownership, or authority for that belongs to Christ (Matt. 28:18).  Those who are truly meek like their Lord and Savior are kind enough to love those very different from themselves, empathetic enough the respect those in the darkest places, and tenacious and audacious enough to do so without a single thought to their own right to greatness.  By their strength they make themselves weak, by their outstanding morality they associate with those of outstanding depravity, and by their indomitable voice they remain silent.  


I need to be this. We all do.  How different the church would be if our hearts could be tamed to the will of Christ and our intentions to the well-being not just of our friends, our community, and our church, but the world and those who live in it.  At some point, we must be willing, by faith, put aside our own agendas and initiatives and be willing to submit to Christ, even when it burns.  As Oswald Chamber said "the secret of a disciple's life is devotion to Jesus Christ, and the characteristic of that life is its seeming insignificance and its meekness."  Putting aside our own indignations and reservations, may we not be afraid to call all 'Friend' and respect all in the way of Christ, not for the sake of some feel-good idealism or social reformation, but for the sake of Jesus Christ.


Have a blessed evening, Friend.