Reflection #91 (20th October 2024 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)
As I mentioned earlier in the service, the words of my first minister, Art Lester, stuck with me for many years. ‘Just a Person’. This phrase has come to be a shorthand in my mind for a whole cluster of ideas about that much-misunderstood virtue that we’re exploring today: humility.
Too often, I think, we tend to think of humility in quite a miserable light. If someone were to suggest that we need to show humility it might be taken as saying that we should think less of ourselves, we shouldn’t get ideas above our station, we should get back in our box. We might feel chastised by it. Imagery around humility often shows humble people literally grovelling or making themselves small.
The theologian Ronald Rolheiser describes this common-yet-mistaken view of humility well, I think. He writes: ‘Humility should never be confused, as it often is, with a wounded self-image, with an excessive reticence, with timidity and fear, or with an overly sensitive self-awareness. Too common is the notion that a humble person is one who is self-effacing to a fault, who deflects praise (even when it’s deserved), who is too shy to trust opening himself or herself in intimacy, or who is so fearful or self-conscious and worried about being shamed so as to never step forward and offer his or her gifts to the community. These can make for a gentle and self-effacing person, but because we are denigrating ourselves when we deny our own giftedness, such humility is false, and deep-down we know it, and so this often makes for someone who nurses some not-so-hidden angers and is prone to being passive aggressive.’
Words from Ronald Rolheiser – a helpful take on what humility is not. But if that’s not it – what is? The most succinct take on the matter I’ve found comes from Wayne Teasdale – an interesting character, a monk who combined Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist spirituality – Wayne Teasdale simply wrote: ‘Humility is, most fundamentally, a relationship of truth with ourselves.’ And Ronald Rolheiser also made something of the etymological connection between humility and humus – the earth, the soil, the ground – when he said ‘the most humble person you know is the person who’s the most grounded, that is, the person who knows they’re not the centre of the earth but also knows that they aren’t a second-rate piece of dirt either.’ Another take on it is in the words on your order of service (which are also on the website) from Janis Abrahms Spring: ‘Humility is the disposition to view oneself as basically equal with any other human being even if there are objective differences in physical appearance, wealth, social skills, intelligence, or other resources… It is the ability to keep one’s talents and accomplishments in perspective, to have a sense of self-acceptance, an understanding of one’s imperfections, and to be free from arrogance and low self-esteem.’
Perhaps the virtue of humility is one of course-correction – finding a middle way – if we’re in danger of becoming either excessively egotistic and self-important OR excessively self-deprecating and lacking in confidence – the virtue of humility might call us back to this ‘relationship of truth with ourselves’ that Wayne Teasdale describes. It reminds us that we are no more special – but crucially no less special – than anybody else with whom we share this planet. It is a corrective to an overly inflated or an overly depressed view of ourselves and our worth. We’re just a person. But at the same time – what a thing it is to be a person! – as Art Lester said, it’s a high calling.
I don’t know if any of you saw the Wim Wenders film, ‘Perfect Days’, which came out this year? Absolutely wonderful film. The central character lives a simple life, he works cleaning public toilets in Tokyo, and he is such an extraordinary portrait of humility. He sees all things, all people, as equally important, and he goes about his work with diligence and care, as if it really matters, without really engaging in worldly status games. I can’t do the film justice – I hope you find a way to see it if you haven’t already – but it came to mind when I read this piece by a UU minister, Barbara F. Meyers, written in 2007 (I’m going to share an extended extract as I was taken with a number of resonances):
‘When I first began attending a Unitarian Universalist church… I eagerly soaked in everything new that I was learning. One Sunday I remember distinctly was a lay-led service by a dearly beloved elderly couple who had been members for a long time. They had just been on a pilgrimage to Japan, where they visited representatives of a number of progressive Japanese religions, and their service was a report of their adventures. The religion they spoke of that I particularly remember was a religion named Ittoen founded in 1904. Members of this religion seek to live a life having no possessions and in humble service to others… their chief religious ritual practice is called Rokuman Gyogan, and consists of humbling oneself by cleaning toilets. They believe this humble act purifies them for the future of the world without conflict.’
Meyers continues: ‘There was something so striking about this story that I remember it clearly nearly 20 years later. (We should have all of our sermons remembered for 20 years!) I think it was the idea that doing one of the lowest most humble tasks in life, cleaning toilets, could be a religious act, and that this could prepare us for world peace. At first I thought “You’ve got to be kidding!” Surely, cleaning toilets couldn’t be a central religious ritual for a modern religion! This idea was vastly different from any religious thinking that I had been exposed to. But they weren’t kidding. Doing a lowly task can be part of a religious practice – allowing one to demonstrate humility. I think this was this “radical” idea that struck me so clearly when I first heard it. A person who has humility, a humble person, is generally regarded as unpretentious and modest, someone quiet, self-effacing, understated, someone who doesn’t think or act like he or she is better or more important than others…. A humble person’s self-esteem is an accurate, not over-estimated, not-underestimated view of his or her abilities and worthiness. One can stand one’s ground when challenged, cope with failures, and not be overly proud of one’s successes.’ Words on humility by Barbara F. Meyers.
So what does humility require of us? What would it look like if we were to live with humility? If we really believe we are ‘just a person’ (and so is everyone else) then how might that show up in our behaviours and our interactions with those around us as we go about our daily lives? Rev. Clay Nelson, who was Unitarian minister in Auckland New Zealand, made the observation that ‘humility understands that the delights, pains and needs of others are as important as our own.’ One insight I take from his words is that we need to cultivate awareness of our impact on other people, and their impact on us too of course, and weigh up our competing needs and preferences. There’s a balance to be struck – it’s not OK to insist on getting our own way regardless of the cost to others – but nor is it OK to be a doormat who always gives way to more forceful personalities (or to people who supposedly have a higher social status). I almost want to call it pathological selflessness.
If we truly believe that our time, energy, and contributions are worth just as much as other people’s – no more, no less – then surely we should honour our agreements with others (as far as humanly possible). This is perhaps a subset of a larger category – that we should honour the social contract – not consider ourselves to be too big (or too small) for the rules of social engagement to apply to us, not go looking for reasons why we’re an special exception, why we don’t need to hold up our end of the deal. A classic example of this is timekeeping – I’m sure you’ve heard various stories, as I have, of big-shot superstars who turn up late to their own gigs, so that fans who have paid a fortune for tickets are faced with dilemmas – missing the last bus home, facing babysitting dilemmas, or even finding that (when the star eventually shows up) the long-awaited gig ends up being 15 minutes long as the venue pulls the plug (because of a local authority noise curfew that everybody knew about ahead of time). I suppose the assumption is that the superstar sees themselves as more important than the little people and doesn’t care about their impact on others. But I bet most of us can think of situations in our own lives where we’ve been messed around, let down or left hanging – when people have reneged on commitments, inconvenienced us in ways large or small, apparently for no good reason – or, if we’re honest, times when we’ve let others down in turn. Humility requires us to keep an eye on this – to be self-reflective and to take feedback from trusted others – to keep learning, growing, doing better – but not getting so mired in critique and self-doubt that we are unable to act or make a mark in the world.
And I think that’s an important thing to note, in closing: Humility does not mean dismissing your own value, your own capabilities, your own potential. Remember what Wayne Teasdale said: ‘Humility is, most fundamentally, a relationship of truth with ourselves.’ That includes an honest self-assessment of your gifts as well as your limitations. And some of us may really need to hear that reminder again and again. The reminder that we matter as much as anyone. Don’t think ‘ah well, nobody will notice’ if you don’t turn up to a gathering, or you don’t step up to contribute to a project, or you don’t speak up when you have something to say. Please don’t sit on the sidelines of life; don’t dismiss the value of whatever contribution, large or small, that is uniquely yours to make. One way or another, we all have a part to play in sustaining our community, and in making the world a better place.
I want to close with a short prayer for humility. These words are adapted from Alex Jensen.
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, we find you in those humble places. The quiet, still spaces where we find we are held in a love greater than ourselves. You are the wind in each breath; The fire in each soul; The subtle Heartbeat of creation all around us. Your love is unimposing yet firm and steadfast, Present to all those who would know your peace. You challenge us in moments of arrogance and Move us to listen deeply when we fail— As we always do—to see the fuller picture. You find the gentle words to speak life into us and hold us close when all else around us and within us feels broken. You remind me that we are loved and saved just as we are. Remind us of who we truly are. And help us to see you – grant us the wisdom to listen for you – in those unlikely places – in the small, humble, everyday moments where you are to be found. Amen.
Reflection by Jane Blackall