A lesson in humility 2 Kgs 4:42-44; Ps 145:10-11, 15-16, 17-18; Eph 4:1-6; Jn 6:1-15 I lived in Dublin for five years while I was working on my Ph.D. During my time there, I had the opportunity to take aerial dance classes. Once or twice a week I would dangle from a 15-foot ceiling while climbing, twisting and using my body to create shapes with a colorful silk curtain. I loved learning aerial dance with the silks. However, the silks and I had a rocky start. I am not what one might call athletically inclined. So, I was very nervous when I showed up for my first day of class. Much to my dismay, I had registered for the same course that a group of Russian ballerinas had also chosen. They were traveling while on a break and thought aerial dance would be a fun cross-training experience. I was so embarrassed as I gasped and wheezed my way through the warm-up, and they did not even break a sweat. But that was nothing compared to the humiliation I would feel when we finally moved on to the silks. The only thing we were supposed to practice was climbing the silk. I could not even get myself off the ground. Meanwhile, the ballerinas were effortlessly zipping up and down their silks like little squirrels. The teacher showed them how to do things that I would not learn for another two years! Every week was an exercise in public humiliation for me. The ballerinas would do things like flip upside down on the silk and then watch me while I still could not climb. I finally climbed on the last day of class. I was so excited, and I wanted to share it with someone! I turned to the room to see if anyone saw it. Not a single person was watching me. That was when I realized what I had done. I had spent the five weeks of class being obsessed with myself and looking upon my classmates with envy and spite. I was so sure everyone was watching me in disgust. But they were not paying attention to me because they were learning, too. They were working on things that challenged them. They helped each other, supported each other, and worked together to succeed. If I had not been so self-centered, I could have been a part of that. Today’s reading from Ephesians challenges us to live whatever call we have received with humility, gentleness and patience (4:1-2). The five months I spent on the silks taught me what it means to have humility, gentleness and patience, primarily by showing me what it looks like to not live according to these qualities. Focusing only on oneself and the opinion of others, as I did, makes for a painful and lonely existence. I treated myself harshly each night I went to class, saying things to myself that I would never say to another person. I expected to progress at a rate much quicker than what I was capable of, and I punished myself for not living up to the unrealistic expectations I had set for myself. That is the exact opposite of living with humility, gentleness, and patience. Gentleness and patience are concepts most of us understand. We may need to practice them, but we know what they are. Humility, however, can be more difficult for us to grasp. Humility is often presented as acting very modestly about our skills and accomplishments. That is not true. To have humility is to have an appropriate grasp of one’s strengths and weaknesses, while knowing that these strengths and weaknesses have no bearing on one’s value as a human being. It also means recognizing another’s strengths and weaknesses and recognizing when to lead and when to let someone else lead. We receive different and often conflicting messages about our value from our society. These messages can lead us to see ourselves and each other through a distorted and damaging lens. They, in turn, can affect our ability to live humbly. It is difficult to unlearn these harmful messages, but it is not impossible. Sometimes the best place we can start is with ourselves. Where do you need to grow in humility in your life?
About the Author Kate Oxsen is an assistant professor of Old Testament studies at Catholic Theological Union.