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Reflection on Humility by Bill CoxReflection on Humility – Is Humility a Virtue NWUU, June 27, 2010 Bill Cox This morning I’d like to share a point of view with you. As you will see, my purpose is not to persuade you of anything. Rather, my hope here is that maybe something I say will stimulate you, in one way or another, whether you agree with me or not. That, to me, is the sort of thing our service should try to do. The question today is “Is humility a virtue?” My own answer is that humility doesn’t seem to be much of a virtue in our culture, but for me it is. Let me take a few minutes here and explain. Sometimes I wish I had a personal God. A God that would hear my prayers and intervene in my life. With that, presumably, would come a user’s manual with answers about the big questions of life. But I don’t have a personal God. I’m not an atheist either, but my God is a mystical God, unknowable, far beyond anything I can imagine or understand. I get no user’s manual from this mystical God, so I have to work on my own answers. To do this, I have been studying the major religions, religions plural, studying them not as alternative sources of divine revelation, but as the distilled wisdom that has developed over the centuries in cultures which, until recently, have been separated. Are there common threads? One jumps out at me: Compassion. Each of the major religions emphasizes compassion. As you have heard, every major religion emphasizes some version of the Golden Rule. For instance, Rabbi Hillel replied, when challenged to summarize the Torah: “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah. The rest is explanation.” In Hindu writings, compassion is one of the three central virtues. In Islam, each chapter of the Quran begins with these words: “In the name of God the merciful, the compassionate.” The Buddha is reported to have said: “It would not be true to say that the cultivation of loving kindness and compassion is part of our practice. It would be true to say that the cultivation of loving kindness and compassion is all of our practice.” In Christianity, you are already familiar with the Sermon on the Mount and with the parables of Jesus, especially the parable of the Good Samaritan. As best I can determine, compassion is the authentic message of Jesus. So I have tried to focus on compassion. The process I have described so far has been largely intellectual, rational, left-brain. But that doesn’t work for me when I consider compassion. I can’t just add “be compassionate” to my daily to-do list, if I had one. So I have turned instead to intuition, to the right-brain side, to a Buddhist kind of mindfulness, trying to watch my reactions and decisions and emotions in the daily flow of life. What I have realized from this is that, for me at least, compassion is impossible without humility. Unless I can view people and events without judging them, without putting labels on them, it isn’t compassion. It’s just sympathetic condescension. Watching myself, I’m struck by how often my reactions involve judgments about what other people should do, rather than what I should do. Wrestling with this, I have realized how much I have been trained to be arrogant. As an American, as a male American, as a white male American, as a supposedly well-educated white male American, I have been trained to analyze, to classify, to put labels on things and people. That training has been useful for me in many ways, but as I seek compassion and humility, I can see that it’s an important impediment. I have to get past the labels. About six months ago I read somewhere that each day, my mind takes in hundreds of thousands of pieces of information, and that I process perhaps thirty or forty of those pieces in a rational, intentional, intellectual manner. Most of my reactions aren’t really rational, then; they come from habit and conditioning, with some genetic hard-wiring thrown in. As I watch my reactions through the flow of life each day, this seems to be what actually happens. I’m on the freeway, and someone cuts in front of me. I call him something nasty. But how do I know? Maybe he just got fired. Maybe his life hasn’t been as fortunate as mine, and driving is the only way he can vent his frustration. Maybe if I had to drive in traffic every day I’d do it too. Maybe his package of habit and conditioning isn’t the same as mine. It’s just a small example of trying to get past the labels. So I’m struggling with compassion, and especially with the humility it seems to require, and with the arrogance I have been trained to have. I’m convinced that without more humility I can never find more compassion. Humility doesn’t seem to be much of a virtue in our culture. But for me, these days, it is. Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. At least until I change my mind. What about you? Is humility a virtue?
Reflection on Humility by Paul Burnore Reflection on Humility - Is Humility a Virtue? NWUU – June 27, 2010 Paul Burnore "Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth" said Matthew in his story about the Sermon on the Mount. (Matthew 5:5). Humility is defined as the quality of being modest, meek, even politely submissive, and never being arrogant, contemptuous or rude. St. Thomas Aquinas agrees. He says "the virtue of humility consists in keeping oneself within one's own bounds, not reaching out to things above one, but submitting to one's superior". I first heard Matthew’s words as a boy at the United Church of Christ in South Bend, Indiana, and I never liked the sense of resignation I heard. I checked a dozen recent translations of this famous biblical quote and found that some say “gentle” or “humble” instead of “meek” – but nothing else Matthew has to say in this sermon changes the meaning of “meek” as simply “passive”, although later Christian apologists somehow interpret this reference to “meek” as “strength brought under control” or strength through submission to God’s will. Since we can’t know God’s will, we can SAY anything is God’s will. And we can justify anything or do nothing. So, as in Politifact, I find Matthew’s statement false and his meek people shall inherit nothing. This kind of passive humility, this turn-the-other-cheek submission, is not one I would add to my list of virtues. To be called a “Virtue,” humility would have to demonstrate moral excellence, integrity, even nobility. Passiveness or meekness doesn’t meet this standard. Ask yourself these questions: Would our Apollo space programs have landed a man on the moon if their motto was “humility and meekness first”?
Would Mahatmas Gandhi and Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela and Paul Farmer have accomplished anything if they had been merely submissive and not responded with their brand of liberation theology to the blows they and their followers suffered?
How would D-Day and WWII have turned out if our armed forces had relied on meekness and submission instead of military boldness, preparedness, precision and pride? I asked myself if Humility was the feeling I get when seeing a photo of the earth from outer space, and then seeing the earth as a pinprick in the vastness of our universe, one of millions of universes. No. What I feel is awe. Then I asked: Was humility that special rush of joy and relief and wonder and tears I felt at the miracle of the birth of my two boys? No, again. It’s what it was, joy and relief and wonder. Not humility. How about when I first saw a Chinese protester at Tiananmen Square, holding a shopping bag, standing his ground in front of an advancing tank? Calm, just standing, not moving an inch. And it was the tank that stopped. Yes, this sounds more like Humility. Humility is one of those terms, like love, which seems to me must be defined by context. Like Love, without parameters Humility is a big gooey marshmallow which if swallowed whole does not nourish and will surely cause a big soggy, philosophical stomach ache. To give humility meaning, there must be context and intent. It must be more than meekness, timidity or submissiveness. True humility is no more equal to wimpiness than true courage is equal to bravado. Some religious extremists see themselves as the “Chosen” – they are saved and privileged and part of the winning team. But that is not humility in my humble opinion. To me Humility is related mostly to Courage and Compassion, grounded in the feeling or understanding of the Interconnectedness of life. I believe all three are needed to make humility a virtue. The best touchstone for me is our UU principle, “Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” Just add a dash of compassion and a splash of courage, and you have the recipe for Humility used by people like Mandela and Gandhi and King and Farmer. In a religious context this is often called liberation theology; in my book it’s humanism in action. Humility lives in action, not inaction and submissiveness. It often requires courage and acting on knowledge and principle while fully realizing that you may not survive the action. Suicide bombers often call themselves humble servants of God. Really? By consciously choosing to murder innocent random people while believing they will escape all accountability into a cartoon paradise complete with a bevy of virgins? And not contributing one iota to solving any human or social problems? Humble servants, No. There is no respect for our magnificent web of existence, no human compassion, no courage. This is 180 degrees from humility. This is my definition of cowardice and unenlightened kneejerk fanaticism. Compare Paul Farmer, medical anthropologist and physician who founded Partners in Health, embraced liberation theology and even became a Catholic so he could better understand the miserably poor in Haiti, Peru, Rwanda, Lesotho, Malawi and Russia. He has risked his life continually in standing up for the poor against the infamous Tonton Macoute in Haiti and other brutal paramilitary forces. Dr. Farmer embodies courage, compassion and interconnectedness just like King, Mandela and Gandhi. This is true humility. I asked my son Nathan, a Captain in the Army and HQ Company Commander at Ft Bragg, the base for Special Operations and the Army Rangers, about the apparent discordance between humility and the military. He wrote back immediately, saying: “I think that there is nothing at all discordant about the military and humility, even though I can see how common perception would be to the opposite. Humility is at the core of any good Soldier, for nothing is accomplished as the result of one person's pride, but the ability of a team to work together. Any praise that I receive or mission that I accomplish is the direct result of the efforts of those who work for me, and that goes for anyone in my line of work. It is sacrifice and service to something higher that I believe defines humility, and Soldiers define both. The men and women I work with have given away their constitutional rights to serve their nation in a time of war. They often sacrifice time with family, free time, and even their lives for duty and honor to their country. I've been humbled to see the way these Soldiers have handled themselves when bullets start flying around them, and the last thing they think of is their own safety, but the safety of those around them. This is truly a selfless service for selfless people.” This is what I mean about humility and context. To be a virtue, humility must take on the courage of conviction accompanied by respect for our interconnectedness and compassion. And a recent sports example, the Venezuelan Armando Galarraga, pitcher for the Detroit Tigers. You may remember that a few weeks ago Galarraga was denied a perfect game, something that is so remarkable that only 20 men in history have achieved it. A perfect game is not just a no hitter, but 27 men set down in order without any walks, any hits, any errors. If you consider that there are over 2400 games per year nowadays, and over 200,000 games have been played in history, that’s 1 perfect game every 10,000 games. So that’s the context. Umpire Jim Joyce called the 27th batter, the last batter, safe at first base when he was clearly out, thus spoiling a remarkable performance. What was Galaragga’s reaction to this huge mistake? He smiled a “you’re kidding me” smile, went back to the mound and got the 28th batter out. No throwing his mitt, no yelling, no histrionics, no venting to the press. Jim Joyce, the umpire, with tears in his eyes, apologized to Galaragga for his mistake, and Galaragga hugged him. He said that Joyce was a good umpire, that he was only human and that mistakes happen. His context was that in spite of a once in 10,000 games performance, it is, after all, just a game. How’s that for real humility? Doesn’t this look like the moral excellence and integrity required to be a virtue? That’s my story and I’m humbly sticking with it.
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