I had to smile.

Time Magazine reports this week that many members of the Amish community are in financial straits because -- according to Mervin Lehman, an Amish father in Indiana -- "People wanted bigger weddings, newer carriages … they were buying things they didn't need."

Amish arrogance.

Who'd a thought?

But then you don't need to be a history teacher to see that "creeping pride" has seeped into every religious community over the centuries.

It was there in Eden.

It was there at Babel.

It was there when we Mormons stopped following the United Order.

How many times have we heard LDS leaders today tell us to not live beyond our means -- that maybe we could keep that old rowboat instead of getting that new dual-motor job, or maybe we could make do with a house of seven gables instead of 72.

When I read the Gospels, I read a lesson on pride at least 70 percent of the time. The leper who didn't show gratitude, the Pharisees with the wide hems on their robes, the rich young man, those who let the Good Samaritan do the dirty work, Satan's temptations on the temple top, the laborers who complain about their wages.

Pride, pride and pride.

It's so prevalent, in fact, I'm in no position to preach against it. It's as common in my own life as popcorn -- and I eat a lot of popcorn.

I don't live in a big expensive home, for instance. I live in an old family home on Brigham City's west side that was built 100 years ago.

And I'm kind of proud of that fact.

I'm kind of proud of the fact I don't care a lot about fine apparel.

I like looking anonymous.

And I like to share my opinion about the right way to live, as you Mormon Times readers are well aware.

No, I'm afraid pride and I are such good buddies I would never dare sermonize about it.

But what I can do is share a story, a story that should bring a smile to Mormons, Jews, Catholics, atheists, agnostics -- even those "new buggy" Amish.

It goes like this:

Seems an old rabbi, his old cantor and a young rabbinical student were performing a service when the old rabbi noticed nobody was paying any attention to him.

In desperation, the old man threw himself on the ground and shouted, "I am worthless! I am nothing!"

The cantor, shocked and confused, fell on his face as well and shouted the same thing -- "I am worthless! I am nothing!"

Then the young rabbinical student, completely at a loss, followed suit. He fell down and yelled, "I, too, am worthless! I am nothing."

That's when the cantor raised his head, looked over at the young student, then looked back at the rabbi.

"So," the cantor said to the rabbi, "look who thinks he's nothing!"

Been there.

Said that.