Humility: a right understanding of ourselves

Peter Seal, 28 August 2016

Hebrews 13: 1–8, 15–16; Luke 14: 1, 7–14

A theme that emerges from both our readings is that of humility – in other words, a right understanding of ourselves. We learn humility when we, once again, ‘come back down to earth’. ‘Humility’ comes from ‘humus’, ‘earth’, means ‘being earthed’.

The writer of our first reading is asking a Christian community about what it considers to be the essential attributes of its life. The list is interesting, and goes like this.

Let mutual love continue …
Show hospitality to strangers …
Remember those who are in prison …
Remember those who are being tortured …
Let marriage be held in honour …
Keep your lives free from the love of money …
Remember your leaders …
Think of Jesus Christ … the same yesterday and today and forever …
Continually offer a sacrifice of praise …
Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have …

I wonder if our list of the essential marks of a Christian community would be very different or similar. This would make an interesting subject for a discussion group. What is striking is that this list is formed predominantly in terms of action and behaviour, rather than belief. Contemporary lists of essentials tend to focus more on right beliefs rather than on right actions. Our experience is that belief and behaviour belong together. One without the other makes little sense and certainly lacks credibility in the eyes of those who look in on Christianity.

This early list, in our first reading from the epistle to the Hebrews, helps alert us to the constant temptation to postpone or evade action by arguing about belief. Two items in the list are particularly striking.

First: remember your leaders. There is a dangerous tendency today to mistrust our leaders. This is nothing new; Paul himself experienced it. There is even sometimes a disturbing antagonism to the very idea of leadership.

And secondly: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. We need to repeat this again and again. This doesn’t mean that we’re closed to new insights and discoveries – nothing of the kind. What it means is that we are strongly rooted in the great eternal truth that God, in Jesus Christ, is always with us. We can repeat this sentence again and again, learn it by heart and let it soak into our very being. When we do this we will discover a quiet confidence; a conviction that nothing can take away the eternal presence of our Lord. Again and again he invites us to follow him, in the world of our time.

Humility, humus, coming back down to earth. In our first reading, this theme is closely linked with solidarity. It speaks of standing with the poor and needy: with those in prison and those who are tortured. Even if we don’t actively go into prisons or help the tortured, we can still keep them in mind. I remember a talk in the cathedral when a man who had been homeless spoke movingly about his experiences. He asked the congregation to spend just 30 seconds before going to sleep remembering those who are sleeping outside. Perhaps each of us can do this during the coming week for those who are refugees from Syria and other troubled places. Somehow, our whole attitude to those we meet in our everyday lives is changed if we are disciplined in thinking about those less fortunate.

Sometimes the events in our lives that make us vulnerable, and that we least welcome, actually help us. They teach us something about humility, humus, coming back down to earth.

Our second reading, from Luke’s gospel, with its vivid picture of a dinner party in the house of a leader of the Pharisees, continues the same theme of humility! ‘Jesus noticed how the guests chose the place of honour, and then he told them a parable.’ There has been a lot of jostling for position. Who, for example, is going to be nearest the head table? Who is going to catch the eye of the host and hostess? At last everyone is seated. Some pleasant welcoming remarks are expected from the host.

Suddenly, another voice sounds from somewhere near the back. We can assume a voice that is calm, but arresting and naturally authoritative. Quietly our Lord comments on the preceding charade; you could say, inanity. It’s obvious what he thinks of it. Jesus says: ‘When you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place’. Now comes a slight pause, then a summing up. ‘For all who exalt themselves will be humbled.’ We’re back again to humus, the earth, being earthed.

We usually escape from this humus in our daily lives through the many activities and concerns that distract us. Our uncontrolled egos would dictate that a common motivation for who we invite to a dinner party might be those who are attractive, or intelligent, or who will bring us a good bottle of wine, or whom we want to invite us back. But this is all about our own gain. Jesus urges us to invite people for Christ’s sake. He says, look for my presence in them and you will be blessed.

A few week ago, at what’s called World Youth Day, Pope Francis had a powerful message for today’s young people. He described how Jesus calls them (and us as well) on a one-way trip, away from ourselves and towards others.

Jesus calls us on a one-way trip, away from ourselves and towards others.

He challenged those who try to buffer themselves against sadness and failure, encouraging his listeners to plunge into difficulty and discomfort and renounce for ever the longing to escape the pain of life. He advocated a willing embrace of personal limit and diminishment. This massively countercultural challenge is unintelligible except in the perspective of eternity. For a young person in the grip of contemporary aspiration, a conversion to this perspective can seem an inconceivably great one.

Of course, it has never been easy. But the challenge is experienced particularly acutely in today’s generation, which is told in numerous ways – subtle and unsubtle – that they can and should have everything; that nothing is beyond their reach; and that they have a right to the fullest, freest and happiest life conceivable.

How, in this culture of relentless sunshine, can a young person prepare herself for the inevitable darkness of the world? And how can one frame a compelling invitation to do an about-turn and walk confidently instead in the footsteps of Jesus, which lead only to greater exposure, greater vulnerability and away from all human security?

Pope Francis asked the tender pilgrims to tap into their restlessness, into their inability to settle for what life is offering them. He said, ‘It is by means of the ravenous appetite of the heart that the gospel enters’. Jesus offers, after all, not death but abundant life, and it is with the promise of endless life that he invites us to take up the one-way trip.

What Francis is saying has its roots in today’s gospel. Jesus said, ‘And those who humble themselves will be exalted’. Jesus is recalling his vision of the kingdom of God, where the first shall be last and the last, first. He is invoking the song his mother sang before he was born, a song about a world where God has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. In the silence that follows these remarks from our Lord some are embarrassed, some are resentful, some are furious.

In conclusion, Jesus totally contradicts the degrading ‘me-first’ behaviour he has witnessed. He says to his host, ‘When you give a banquet invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.’