Humility

Pride makes us hate our equals because they are our equals; our inferiors for fear that they may equal us; our superiors because they are above us. – St John Vianney

We are not the focus of the universe

… even though some of us act as if we are. That might come as a big surprise, but we are not. I have been considering the aspect and the discipline of humility. It appears to me that, amid the immensity and the grandeur of the cosmos, we humans are small and dependent beings whose chief glory – if not our very purpose – is to reflect God’s brilliance as the moon reflects the sun. Too often, though, we allow our pride to get in the way, causing needless sorrow for ourselves and others while preventing ourselves from being what God intended us to be.

Francis had a keen understanding of power – both public and ecclesiastic – and the dangers of human pride. He condemned pride as spiritual enemy number one. Like so many other saints and holy people who had gone before him, he realized that the only way to harness our pride is to practice the virtue of humility.

“The gate of Heaven is very low; only the humble can enter it.” – St Elizabeth Seton

It was pride that disrupted the blissful sojourn of Adam and Eve in the Garden. Pride made them want to become like God, created a situation where they ate of the forbidden fruit, and allowed them to turn their back on the very God had created them. Over the last several thousand years, pride has ceased to be an original concept, but it functions much the same way as it did in the Garden: deluding us into thinking that we will be happier going our own way, creating barriers between ourselves and God and putting up walls of competition, suspicion, envy, and distrust between ourselves and our brothers and sisters.

Pride inflates our egos and desires, making us insist on getting what we want instead of trying to live out the message of the Lord’s Prayer: “Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” If left unchecked, pride can be a ravenous cancer that takes over our very souls and ultimately leads to a more permanent death.

The only antidote to pride is humility

Francis articulated a way of life that takes pride more seriously and takes steps to minimize its destructive influence. The cornerstone of this way of life is a clear-eyed comprehension of our humility and our utter dependence on God. But breaking the bonds of pride requires nothing less than a complete conversion, or – more precisely – a lifelong series of conversions. Some of these will be small and insignificant. Others will be more earth-moving and/or devastating. Through these daily conversions, though, God will continue to lead us by the hand and show us that we are not God, only God is.

Pride is everywhere! One needs only to stroll through a bookstore and see the racks of books praising the values of aggressiveness, competition, self-centeredness, and confidence. But Francis taught a radical message of “downward mobility”, living a life of littleness, humbleness, submission, obedience, and service. In every daily situation, Francis chose poverty over wealth, powerlessness over power, and serving over ruling. He wrote: “It is not for us to be wise and calculating in the world’s fashion; we should be guileless, lowly, and pure.”

Testing for humility

One of the best tests of a person’s commitment to humility is to see how he or she treats others. St Paul tells us to consider others as better than ourselves. But how do we do that? How can we be sure that showing humility and treating others as better than ourselves will not lead to a false sense of humility?

I strive, personally, to practice this aspect of humility by treating every person equally and appreciating their unique personalities, talents, gifts, abilities, and willingness to serve the community. For instance, we would starve pretty quickly if other folks didn’t plant, nurture, harvest, and ship their products to the market. Likewise, there are all sorts of folks whose daily work sustains us without our even realizing it.

Of course, nothing keeps us humble like self-awareness. I am acutely aware of my own egotism and the blackness that can dwell at the center of my soul. There is a fine line between being pessimistic or a perpetual malcontent bent on making myself miserable and insecure here. As Francis saw there is a vast spiritual chasm separating the goodness of God and the evil of humanity. While some folks are uncomfortable talking about human evil – possibly in fear of injuring their self-esteem – I am positive it exists. Other people are skeptical about the possibility of human redemption. I am here to tell you that redemption exists.

Francis prefers to construct a world view in which humanity appears as a dust-covered mirror. While it was designed to reflect God’s glory, it is now too dirty to efficiently do the job. But, God and His love can clean us, purify us, and, in the end, make us creatures of spiritual beauty. We are both sinful and spiritual, both frail and dignified. Understanding the balance here will help us to remain humble while allowing us to have a healthy self-esteem without slipping in to some false egotism.

Francis’ emphasis on humility sprang from his desire to imitate the humility of Jesus whose life was framed by two episodes of extreme humility: the Incarnation where He emptied Himself of any divinity to be born in human form and walk amongst us and the Crucifixion where He gave up His life for a sin-filled world. In between these two bookend events, Jesus served the poor and needy, washed the feet of his disciples, and advised those who would follow Him to sit in the lowliest places. Indeed, the very celebration of the mass, the central sacrament of the Church, clearly re-enacts the basic-but-divine humility of Jesus wherein He humbles Himself to hide within the form of a little morsel of bread.

Humility should lead to obedience – a pre-requisite to knowing and doing the will of God. Of course, we Americans worship our individualism and demand independence from governmental or religious control. Mention the word obedience and people conjure up all sorts of images of an abusive religious cult or a nun or priest rapping students’ knuckles.

Francis lived in a world that shared some of our distaste for submission to religious authority. The Church had become entrenched in public affairs – the international disputes between kings and princes – and had grown rich and decadent. Its message held a hollow ring for the people. A series of self-proclaimed reformers and prophets traveled Europe, broke off with Rome, and created their own autonomous movements.

While people have substantially portrayed Francis as a religious revolutionary, he was actually a loyal member and servant of the Church.

While he could have easily led his band of supporters astray and into his own movement, he went to the Church for guidance and approval.

While he was an outspoken critic of the hypocritical and power-hungry leaders, be they religious or secular, he still respected the centuries of Christian tradition and the spiritual authority of the Church.

Practice

There are many opportunities for me to practice and grow in the virtue of humility. Here are ways I have worked out for myself to cultivate this:

When I am around other people, particularly in work-associated meetings, I will endeavor to elicit and promote other peoples’ opinions and views – rather than attempting to drive my own point to the forefront or striving to be the last one to speak on an issue.

When on the Interstates, particularly when driving to/from work, I will be more realistic and treat other drivers with kindness and respect – rather than being shocked at their insensitivity or concentrating on their inability to drive correctly (within the speed or lane limits).

When I deal with other people, particularly those who provide service in public settings (restaurant servers, store clerks, police and fire personnel, etc), I will relate to them as real persons whose service, skill, and humanity mean something to me.

Solitude

The Pond

I’ve been thinking a lot about being alone and what that solitude can give to me, what it can teach me, what I can use from it. The idea hits me that solitude is like looking at a pond on a clear, sunlit day, when the wind is not blowing. The surface of the pond is like a mirror that reflects the clear blueness of the sky, the clouds, and the brilliance of the sun. If I concentrate on penetrating the surface (looking beyond the reflection), I can peer into the calm, motionless water, seeing clear down to the bottom, taking note of the small rocks and pebbles.

The pond changes, though, when it is disturbed by intrusion or some inadvertent activity. The surface is disturbed and agitated by ripples, distorting the once clear and glorious reflection. The water under the surface is no longer clear, being shot through with bubbles and clouded with the upturned sediment.

Our lives are pretty much the same way...

When things are calm, we can see clear to the bottom (or to the core) and detect even the slightest movement or motion. But when things are unsettled, everything is murky, impenetrable, and our understanding is clouded. Unfortunately, few of us have lives that are as completely still and serene as a pond. Life is, for most of us, more like a kitchen blender with its constant humming, blades purring, and its motion making a cosmic puree of the elements of our fast-paced lives. Schedules, events, and relationships all get muddled into some quagmire-like mess.

Francis himself was no hermit or recluse. Instead, he lived a full and active life surrounded by his fellow friars and other people who needed help. He knew, though, the value of solitude, silence, and stillness. He used those times as if they were real treasures, giving himself time to find a well-grounded stability that would allow him to interact with the world more effectively - to re-fuel his energy. Our own lives can be fuller and more effective if we learn how to practice the virtues of solitude, silence, and stillness.

Instead – we seem to fear aloneness. We try to arm ourselves so that it never happens. We choke off every inch of space in our lives with continuous music, chatter, companionship, news, and the many other jangly distractions common to our present world. And, worse, we don’t even really listen to that noise. We allow it to simply be there to fill the vacuum. When the noise stops, there is no inner music to take it’s place.

But, we are not called to be hermits!

Francis built dozens of hermitages – small places of escape for a single person – during his life, but he almost always built them close to towns or villages where people needed him or his friars. This would allow him to be just far enough from the hustle and bustle of city life to allow him to meditate, pray, and re-invigorate himself. He was close enough, then, to serve and minister to others after centering/grounding himself. He worked hard to keep the chaos of city/village life at arm’s length so that it would not corrupt him. He knew, deep down, that the world’s commotion can confuse us, can seduce us, and can suck us into false realities that have little to do with the transcendent, eternal values of worshiping God.

The world’s noise has a way of deflecting or diverting us from the deeper realities of life. It keeps us pre-occupied with the superficial at the expense of the meaningful. It deafens our souls and subdues our hearts. Some would say it deadens our intellect. The saints and mystics of all the world’s religions have sought solitude, but not from an interest in fleeing the world so much as an attempt to run toward God, to know God better, and to hear God’s voice clearly amongst the din of the world. Silence, solitude, and stillness help us to “recuperate spiritual powers that may have been gravely damaged by the noise and rush of a pressurized existence.” – (Thomas Merton)

Solitude seeks to silence a noisy world. It is a tool to quiet our souls which have been wracked to near destruction by their own inner turmoil, tensions, and troubles.

My mind won't stop talking!

I have found, often, that when I attend retreats, whether at a church or a monastery, that my own mind and heart generate an awful lot of noise on their very own! I continually replay and revise conversations I have had with loved ones, with a co-worker, with a convenience store clerk. I worry about the past: Did I do enough? Did I do right? Was I good enough? I fret over the future: Will things work out? Will I know how to accomplish the next task? Etc. I remember things that I have forgotten: some of them good, some of them not so good. I fill my mind with little “mental notes” designed to keep me from forgetting them again. My ego wages a constant battle for self-esteem while I replay little snippets that eat away at that self-esteem. The workings of my mind can resemble a three-ring circus or a noisy carnival that has lost its ringmaster. Instead of a cool, calm, crystal clear pond, I have a murky, muddy, polluted swamp.

Francis designed his life (and mine) around an attempt to live and imitate the live of Jesus. Like Jesus, he spent time in solitude with God before attempting to preach to large, public groups or before making important decisions. He sought solitude whenever he could fit it in, either in prolonged periods of isolation (in hermitages), in brief periods of prayer and meditation, or in hurried prayers said as he worked and walked in the towns and villages of Europe.

For me, silence, solitude, and prayerful meditation have become a way of re-charging my spiritual batteries for deeper, more effective, and more selfless service. Using the Office (Christian Prayer), I find I spend hours a day now in prayer, communing with God. When I am more grounded in silence and prayer, I find that my work is more efficient, energized, and empowered by God’s spirit, and, as a result, more fulfilling. The more time I devote to the Office, the more I get done in periods of activity. Rather than focusing on the activities of my life, I now focus on the batteries.

A passage from Glenn Tinder sums up the way solitude can balance our “private” and “public” lives:

“If you have never, all alone, tried to define your major convictions, you cannot enter into truth-seeking conversation and are thus incapable of deep human relations. If you cannot be apart from others, you cannot engage in prayer and meditation and thus cannot enter into genuine relationship with God. If you recoil from solitude, it may even be said, you are politically disabled; you necessarily lack the spirit of independence needed to stand for what is right in the public realm.” – Glenn Tinder

God doesn't make junk!

Solitude, silence, and stillness – being alone – allows us to “connect” to God. The genius of the Franciscan model is the balance between quiet periods and periods of activity. The periods of silence bring three important benefits to my life:

I know myself better.
I know God better.
I know my purpose better.

Of course, periods of silence and meditation – and examining my own conscience – are not all positive. It’s a bit like looking into that pond. Sometimes I see clear water and the pretty colors of the pebbles and rocks at the bottom. At other times, lurking in the shadows, I find old shoes, discarded tires, empty and rusty cans, and various pieces of garbage. I have seen, at times, a competent, successful adult. At others, I have seen a man who is in many ways a child who has failed as a son, as a husband, as a father, and as a follower of Jesus. But, the solitude has been like a medicine to work on those periods of despondency.

Large doses of God’s love and grace have brought me significant levels of forgiveness and healing. The debris in my pond is being cleared. God doesn’t tell me that the garbage at the bottom of the pond is somehow, miraculously, valuable treasure – or make jewels out of them. Rather, He loves me in spite of them. Knowing God’s love has allowed me to confront those demons, address those issues, and begin a healing of my life.

There is nothing "magical" about solitude that makes God seem suddenly appear or to make Him appear more clearly. God is already everywhere and all the time. It is just that too often we are too busy with everything else to notice Him or to give Him time. By practicing the discipline of solitude, it is possible to create a space in my life where God can be there more fully. Over time, as that space grows, my relationship with God can also grow. Spending time with God, alone, can also help me to know my purpose better. Afterall, God created me and knows best what I should be doing with my life. In addition, solitude helps protect me from the consequences of the dreaded evil twins that bedevil all else in my life:

failure and
success.

Failure can hurt: I imagine something; I plan it; I create it; and then I unveil it to the world. Someone then jeers at it, shocking me and forcing me to retreat. With such life-shattering disapproval, I will think twice about creating something else!

Success can be equally disarming. Applause and approval can often overwhelm us and become more important than the creative act itself. We went to remain popular and loved. We begin to change ourselves to "play to the crowd". We go for the ratings rather than for what we know to be right.

A relationship with God can help us ride out those little episodes as we remember that He values us for who you are and not for what you do. That relationship can only be attained through the disciplines of solitude, silence, and stillness.

Practice

Quiet doesn't just happen. I need to cultivate it and provide places for it to blossom. So, for the beginning of my practice of solitude, I must find a time and a place to quiet the world and concentrate (even meditate) on God. I cannot get hung up on finding that "perfect environment". It just doesn't exist - for me or for anyone else! Instead, I need to make sure to use those distractions that the world tosses in my way. I need to make them a part of my prayer cycle. As the anonymous author of The Cloud of Unknowing described it - picture distractions as floating objects coming at you; move your head and let them pass; continue to focus on God and your own internal questions.

Finding time is equally important and probably more difficult. I have a busy schedule. But, to make my life find itself built around things that are truly important rather than things that are simply urgent, I need to take positive steps. I need to add those prayer times to my schedule and keep them as appointments just as valuable and worthy as any other. Maybe they should be even more valuable.