On Humility

Raise your hand if you remember that old song where Mac Davis sings, "Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way. I can't wait to look in the mirror, cuz I get better looking each day. To know me is to love me, I must be a helluva a man. Or Lord, it's hard to be humble, but I'm doing the best that I can."

If you raised your hand, you may be from a generation in which people laughed at a silly song like that, and did not automatically assume they had some sort of privilege to not examine or express some humility in daily life. Sometimes I feel like we have lost the value of humility, of being humble, so I decided to explore this concept a little recently when I returned to the Abbey for two nights instead of just one, to give myself time to read. One of the books I brought was one I'd purchased on my visit in June: Reclaiming Humility: Four Studies in the Monastic Tradition.

OK, I am going to ask you to drop any conception of this being a religious exercise or solely a religious topic. Morals and values are not the private property of religion. Ready to explore?

I was, but I never even opened the book on that trip. Instead, I received a real life lesson in humility. I went to morning prayer in the chapel, and that quickly transitioned to Mass, so I stayed. I loved the message: that when we seek what we can see, what we can hold in our hands (or our wallets, I'd suggest) , when we value the mobile phone in our hand more than the unseen- even if that is something tangible, like a walk in nature, that we ignore (and I am paraphrasing here and adding my own thoughts too), we are missing the real value of life.

Then it was time for Communion. I was in the front row- the only space available when I walked into the small chapel. The Sisters were lining up, taking turns, then everyone else behind me was standing and bowing to each other to go ahead, no you go ahead, thank you for letting me go ahead, and I thought, "Well, I guess I go too!" After all, wouldn't that be the polite and respectful thing, to honor and participate in the exercise?

It was not, and if you are Catholic please forgive me if I have offended you.

I mean, I did grow up in a Christian household, though I wouldn't call us an ardently Christian family. I did get a new Easter dress and bonnet every year when I was a little girl, and loved to wear that! And us kids piled into Mrs. Hathaway's station wagon with the other country kids to get hauled to Sunday School on Sunday mornings, and to Vacation Bible School every day for a week in summer. But we weren't Catholic. In fact, in high school my father would not let me go out with Brian Fitzgerald because he was Catholic, and Dad swore the Pope was the Anti-Christ.

So, on exiting the chapel after the service, Father Matthew hauled me aside to ask if I was Catholic. I said no, of course. And then it was explained to me that I had committed an offense by taking Communion without being a confirmed Catholic. I asked, innocently because I was curious, how I'd been allowed to do this before- because I have on at least a couple other occasions in this life.

I teared up. I was so embarrassed, so humiliated! I had not meant to offend anyone! I told him in a choked up low voice because a young woman was lurking nearby waiting to ask for confession. He assured me he knew that, and wasn't this a learning experience?

I spent the next several hours sitting and walking with the feelings that come with being ashamed and humiliated. I told myself I did not need to feel ashamed because I had not meant to do anything wrong. But where was the acknowledgement that I had acted out of respect, if unknowingly incorrectly? That felt weird!

What would the Sisters think? What would the other people in that chapel think? Could I show my face again? Would I ever be allowed back, or would I even ask?

By now it was late morning, so the cup of coffee I'd left in my room was cold, and I wasn't interested in drinking it, so I brought it downstairs to pour out and wash the mug in the kitchenette. "Did you make the coffee this morning?" a man asked as he came through. I couldn't escape him! "Yes." "Thank you, bless your heart!" He exclaimed.

I felt a little better, even though I was pretty sure he had not been at Mass because he did not look familiar. But the feelings, all those feelings around feeling shame and humiliation were familiar!

OK, now how many of you are saying, "You're being too hard on yourself!" Or, "Are you crazy? You didn't really do anything wrong. You had no idea!" Whoa.

Because that is the crux of the issue, the exploration I have in mind. Is any one of us in a position of privilege to be "let off the hook" if we err, even unknowingly? Why is it so difficult to just cough up and sit with the feelings?

The definition of humility is awkward and challenging. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, humility is "1.a. the quality of being humble or having a lowly opinion of oneself; meekness, lowliness, humbleness: the opposite of pride or haughtiness. b. (with plural) an act of humility or self-abasement. 2. Humble or low condition, rank or estate; unpretentiousness, humbleness." (The third definition is that of the local name of several North American birds of the family Scolopacidae.) Latin root "humilis" means "low."

Just reading those words makes you squirm a little, right? We are supposed to think highly of ourselves, to have good self-esteem so we can be healthy. We are not supposed to "put ourselves down." We even have words like upper, middle or lower class- the latter of which "working" is supposed to be a preferable term to "lower."

Yet what led me to purchase the book noted above, instead of any other book in the gift shop- or no book at all- was a curiosity about where humility is in our wider social construct these days. I think it is perfectly OK to be humble, to feel embarrassed when we unwittingly commit an offense, to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong." And to learn.

Several years ago I was a coach-mentor in a local program a good friend had built called Runner Girl. The program was for young girls, I want to say 3rd through 8th grade, to come together and build their running capacity together and individually. At the end of the season we would all run a 5K together. Now, running is relative, and so is winning! Finishing is a win in my book. I still do 5Ks on occasion, and the last one I ran with a friend, we came in last place, but I was listed in last place in the Women's race because my friend's name was misleading and she was mistakenly listed as a Man. We walked the whole thing, talking as we enjoyed a frosty morning in the local hills. Similarly, the first year I was with Runner Girl, I came across a 4th grade girl who also wore glasses and clearly did not think she could win the race, nor do I think she cared. We walked the race together and chatted, and when we finally saw the finish line ahead, I said, "Wanna run across the finish line?" "Yeah!" So we sped up and crossed together at a quicker pace. We finished. Someone snapped a picture of us with our hands held up for a high 5 in jubilation.

The next year I was not available for the last part of the program season or the race. At coffee my friend who started the program told me how one girls' parents were so upset that she did not win her age category that they insisted a separate medal be made for her and awarded as though she had won. Where is the winning in that? And where is the simple acceptance and the joy in having participated and finished? That young girl did not raise her hands in jubilation at the finish line. I wonder if she felt embarrassed and humiliated that her parents threw a tantrum, or did she learn from them that bullying others to get your way is the real winning?

I'm going to stop here for now because I've started the conversation. I invite you who are reading, who have made it this far, to think on this topic and maybe even read something about it, but not necessarily. Contemplate humility. And please do share what you find.

Have a beautiful month, and I will be back first of September. May we continue this conversation!