Sermon: "Dying to the False Self"

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham
Rector, St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas
April 2, 2006; 5th Sunday in Lent, Year B
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John 12:20-33
Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
"Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him." Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.
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Mick was one of my best friends growing up. He was the third of four children in his family. Mick had a cute little sister who absorbed lots of the affection that naturally flows toward the youngest and smallest. And he had two remarkable older siblings. His brother was the first born. In high school Mick's brother won the award given to the school's outstanding athlete. In college he won a medal given to the finest student in each undergraduate department. The second child was Mick's older sister. Straight "A's", demure and compliant. Where the older brother pushed at parental boundaries, she was the good daughter.

My friend was caught in the middle -- behind these accomplished older siblings, and "un-cute" next to his little sister. The family was a loving one, but a bit too religious, I thought. They were Baptists in the old fashioned way -- no drinking, no dancing, no playing cards or dice; church on Wednesday nights and twice on Sundays.

Mick's survival strategy was to fly under the radar. He let his brother catch all of the parental wrath for breaking the rules -- bringing home games with dice and playing cards, listening to Bob Dylan records in the house. He let his older sister be the "good-child-shining-star" so there wouldn't be too many expectations for him to live up to or fail. He didn't try to be cute or clever. He kept his head low, avoided conflict, and whenever necessary, let others make his decisions for him so he wouldn't be held responsible. When his mom said, "Mick, do this," he did it. When his dad said, "Mick, do this," he did it. When either of his older siblings said, "Mick, do this," he did it. When a teacher said, "Mick, do this," he did it. I can't ever remember a time when Mick got in trouble -- at home, in school, in the neighborhood. He just didn't attract enough attention to get in trouble.

His strategy worked. But there is always a price to pay for whatever childhood strategies we employ to survive and get by. When Mick got to the time of life when he began to want to date and to form relationships with girls, it was a bit tricky. He flew under the radar of most girls too, so he didn't go out very much. Being forward or asking someone out was risky business, too fraught with potential failure and drama. So when a rather assertive young woman showed some interest in him and told him to go out with her, he did it. His parents welcomed her cordially. Their greatest anxiety was always whether their children might have sex outside of marriage, so when Mick assured them of their chastity, his parents welcomed the couple like family. It became pretty comfortable. He was a loving person, and he was pretty sure he loved her, though he didn't really have anything to compare it to. He wanted to love her, but getting caught loving her too much before getting married was terrifying. And there sure weren't any other girls knocking his door down to take him away from her. So they married. And they were happy.

But living with her was a little bit like living with older siblings, or strong parents. She was decisive, and very articulate. He was quiet. She was loud. He was reflective. She was reactive. Mick was at about a fifty-to-one word deficit with her. In the close contact world of marriage, it was hard for him to stay below the radar. He was too easy a target. So he did his best to go along and try not to make waves. When she said, "Mick, do this," he did it. From time to time he found jobs that involved prolonged travel. And the birth of children created some distracting cover for him. So life went on, and they were a family.

But something deep in Mick longed to come alive. He wanted out of the radar. He wanted to be able to hold his head up and just be himself. When someone said, "Mick, do this," he wanted the option to consider whether he would or would not "do this." He wanted to love, but he didn't know what love was. When he tried to reform or renegotiate his relationship with his wife, it didn't work. Unfortunately, they were too habituated in their ways.

For him to change was like dying. It cost him nearly everything. His family sided with his wife when he left. They still do. But he found his own voice, and he made a life that was more authentic to who he is rather than to who others told him to be. And he met someone with whom he could have a relationship of mutuality. For the first time in his life, now he feels like himself. He can breathe on his own. He feels like he has been through a spiritual transformation. He is in touch with the guiding Spirit within, rather than the controlling expectations of others. He's teaching his children to be their own person now, true to their own heart's inner being. He hopes they'll learn that at an earlier age than he did and avoid some of the tragedy that comes from growing up so late.

During our vulnerable childhoods, all of us found ways to protect ourselves and to save our lives. We all created strategies to compensate for whatever lack of security or affection or power we experienced. That's how each of us created a false self. For Mick, his false self strategy was to fly under the radar and to do what others told him. He protected himself, but at the price of losing himself. I have another life long friend whose strategy was to accomplish great things in order to win approval from parents and others. Another complained loudly and dramatically until someone attended to her needs. There are thousands of strategies. Each of us did something different to feel safe or loved or powerful. If it worked, we kept it up until it became habitual. In order to avoid pain and to find happiness, each of us created a false self.

The word "repent" means to turn away from your old ways of trying to find happiness and to go in another direction, to look to God for our happiness instead of to ourselves. To truly live, we have to turn away from our false self. For Mick, that turning was like a death; it was supremely costly. He wishes he had started earlier. It would have been nice for him to know who he was before he made his marriage vows. Or maybe he and his wife could have worked together in this process toward healing and authenticity if they had started earlier in their relationship. Maybe if she had been able to confront her own control habits that protected her from an early age. But, that's her story, not his.

The Christian gospel tells us that our lives are given to us as a gift. In God we are already perfectly secure, perfectly loved, and God is truly and mysteriously in control. Instead of looking to ourselves to satisfy our needs for security, affection and power, we can look to God and relax. We can be free to be ourselves, beloved of God. To lose that false self in this world is to keep your true self for eternal life.

Thomas Keating is fond of saying that Lent is our season for dismantling the false self with its exaggerated claims. Lent is a time for denying the self by prayer, fasting and almsgiving, the antidotes to our compulsive claims for security, esteem, and power. Most of us have become so dependent upon our false self strategies, that we have identified our very being with them. It is like a death to challenge our old way of being, to trust God instead of ourselves. Lent is a time when we can die to ourselves and be born again in the Spirit. Keating says, "the work of Lent is to face the unconscious values that underlie the emotional programs for happiness and to change them. Jesus said, "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."

For most of us dismantling the false self is the hardest work we will do. But it's worth it. You can ask my friend Mick. Now he knows what it is like to be alive, to be free, to be real.