VIEW FROM THE PEW
To tweak that old adage about how March weather “comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb,” the opposite is true about November this year. I’m not thinking about meteorology — wind, storm and surf stuff — but liturgy, the things we’ve been hearing in church.
For the first few days of this month, in the Gospel readings, Jesus talked about humility, that most lamb-like facet of our faith. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” was among the beatitudes in Matthew’s account of Jesus’ sermon on the mountain we heard on All Saint’s Day.
By the end of the month and the end of the liturgical year, we’ll get the teachings about the destruction of the temple, the upheaval Jesus brought to the old religion, Christ as King, and the judgment ahead. At the end of his instructions to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, etc., comes the roaring lion twist of Christianity: “What you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me. And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
Humble is a word that came to mind as I wrote names of deceased family and friends in the parish Book of Life, the log of all souls we pray for this month. It’s a word that fits almost all of the names I wrote: immigrant grandparents who held lowly jobs; the second generation who improved their lives but lived simply, third generation with modest successes. None of them achieved great wealth, won spectacular awards or medals; no names you’d recognize. (Here I must confess to becoming what I used to laugh about, the church lady whose list is not limited to recent deaths. It’s an ancestry roll call — but who can match whoever it was that inserted a computer printout of dozens of names?!)
One happy humble person we lost this year left her husband, children and grandchildren with memories of her sharp wit, kindness, spirit and humor. She also left behind much of her memory, but I’m sure this lady didn’t need to bring it along to be recognized at heaven’s gates.
Humility turned out to be the word of the day, which gave me chicken skin because I hadn’t peeked at the readings beforehand. The Gospel was Matthew reporting on Jesus’ teaching “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” Jesus was responding to an element among Jewish leaders of that time whose strict legalistic interpretation of the religious laws gave them a holier-than-thou attitude.
He said, “All their works are performed to be seen. They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces.” The Lord often criticized the Pharisees, a word that remains in our language meaning “hypocrite,” and there are still a lot of them in our ranks. But that’s another column.
Humility was also the theme in the previous day’s Gospel reading from Luke. Observing people who chose places of honor at the table, Jesus told them, in a parable, how unwise it is to assume that you are the greatest because you will be embarrassed if the host asks you to move down for another guest. “Rather, when you are invited, go and take the lowest place” and leave it to the host to move you to a higher position. It was one of those down-to-earth examples that may bring a blush of sheepish memory to a modern listener.
We don’t see much humility on display these days, mused Father Santosh Ouseph Thottankara in his Nov. 5 homily. “In olden days when someone graduated, when a team won, they would mention God, credit God for their success.”
“Now what you hear is someone proclaiming ‘my hard work, my technique, my mentor, my coach.’
“Who gave you that talent? Sometimes we forget. God is the source of everything, everything comes from God,” Father Santosh told the St. Patrick Church congregation. He expanded on the theme in an interview: “How humility works is to see that it is God enabling us. We know God is the creator and we are the creature. The nature of God is in us; he expects me to reflect that to others.
“When we are humble, we become simple,” said the priest. “Who is perfect? Who is sinless? I make mistakes, I am a sinner, but God loves me. He does not hold that against me. He allows me to change and to grow.
“If I am proud, I call attention to myself believing I have achieved this, it’s my talent, my study, my good looks that got me where I am. If we don’t claim ourselves as the best, if we let go of that and realize what God has given us, we can work together with what God has given each of us. It’s a gift and I can share it. Humility brings joy, reconciliation, peace, happiness.”
Father Santosh said the display of pride has become part of “a culture within a culture.” He said “the social media has created a shallow culture. It matters how many ‘likes’ you get.” Protected by the anonymity of communicating online, people say outrageous things, denigrate others, take a position of superiority over others. “It’s not reality, they don’t relate person-to-person. At the end of the day, what matters is your credibility. Your reality is with your family, your friends, people you really know,” said the priest.
If we were in one of those less subdued congregations, or more interactive denominations, there might have been some loud “Amens” to the homily. Our feedback was nods, laughs and comments murmured in the pews, being the good humble Catholics we are. When it came time for prayers for the faithful, a shouted “right on” nearly eclipsed my quiet “Lord hear our prayer.”
Here is what we prayed for:
“That world leaders and those in exalted positions fulfill their responsibilities with humility on behalf of those whose lives have been entrusted to them … let us pray to the Lord.
“For those whose faith has been shaken by the failings of these leaders, may they be restored to faith and find forgiveness in their hearts … let us pray to the Lord.”
Cheers to the author of those prayers, found in an attachment to the lectionary of Mass readings published by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
World leader plus humility, what a concept. The timing of the humility theme was ironic on that date one year after an election that pretty much retired that virtue on the world stage. I restrained myself in church, but I find myself singing the verse of a country music ditty “It’s Hard to Be Humble” quite often these days:
“Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble. When you’re perfect in every way … Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble. But I’m doing the best that I can.” Written by Mac Davis and recorded in tongue-in-cheek versions by numerous singers, it’s my umbrella for the daily twitter deluge. It keeps replaying in my head, not likely to switch off soon.
Thinking of my entries in the Book of Life, I wondered if I’d find humble folks in the calendar of the month. There were a few women saints of the virgin, martyr or nun varieties. But it was a month to remember men who rose to bishops, topped off by Pope Leo the Great from the fifth century and St. Albert the Great, a 13th century bishop, both honored as doctors of the church for steering the church in defining Christ’s teachings and overcoming heresies and other enemies. More like lions in church history than lambs, I suppose.
Fortunately for Father Santosh, I hadn’t sunk into my finger-pointing, judgmental critique of humility in others when I talked to him. But reflecting on my notes, I totally get it that I’m not walking humbly with God there.
We had talked about another parable about humility and pride in which Jesus described a Pharisee standing in the temple bragging about his piety, generosity, etc. saying, “‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men … even that publican over there.’ The other man stood at a distance and would not even raise his face to heaven, but beat on his breast and said, ‘Lord be merciful to me, a sinner.’ ‘I tell you,’ said Jesus, ‘it was the publican not the Pharisee who was in the right with God when he went home.’”
Pondering that story sent me searching to readjust my perspective, seeking an old prayerbook from my alma mater Marquette University. I know there was some Jesuit reflection on humility in there. But I can’t find it.
Searching in that great prayerbook in the ether, I found no end of prayers on the subject. One that is so very Catholic is a litany of humility calling “deliver me, Jesus” from “the desire of being esteemed, extolled, honored, preferred” etc., etc., etc. The litany written by a cardinal decades ago goes on forever — don’t they all.
There was another prayer, attributed to Sir Francis Drake, a 16th century explorer, that asks “Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves.”
Another humility prayer by an anonymous writer is straightforward stuff: “God, I am far too often influenced by what others think of me … Don’t let me gloat over praise on one hand or be discouraged by criticism on the other. Show me how to be humble of heart, like you.”
Aha, I found a perfect one, by Jesuit Father Daniel A. Lord. “Let me have too deep a sense of humor to be proud. Let me know my absurdity before I act absurdly. Let me realize that when I am humble I am most human, most truthful, and most worthy of your serious consideration.” Amen to that.
