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| Please Allow Me to Humiliate You |
| by John Zmirak |
| 8/19/09 |
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We all know the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the Temple (Lk 18:9-14). "But then the tax collector, aware of his own deep humility, looked upon the Pharisee and said: Lord, I thank thee that I am not such as this man, who fasts and prays and gives alms unto the poor. Rather, in the depth of my sinfulness is the greatness of my repentance, so am I exalted far above this other man."
Or something like that.
No, wait a minute. The above is a mash-up of Scripture that came to me courtesy of my old boss Tom Hoopes, recently departed from many years as editor of the National Catholic Register. I wish I could claim credit for this brilliant illustration of the perverse uses which can be made even of Christianity's deepest impulses. I've seen people really do this -- for instance, Catholic bloggers who seem to boast about the depth of their former sins, and wallow in their specialness compared to dreary, bourgeois churchgoers who've always tried to follow the rules. There's a certain type of "penitent" who delights in playing the perpetual prodigal son, always deserving of the fatted calf. Just by going one more day without doing heroin, or cheating on their spouses, they think they are forever causing greater joy in heaven than whole cloisters full of holy Carmelites. The trick is to stay the "lost sheep," and never blend in and become one of those boring 99 . . .
Another instance came in a documentary I once saw made by an earnest post-Christian Dane who'd misread far too much Kierkegaard. Now used around the world as part of mandatory "diversity training," it's called American Pictures. In it, the journalist Jacob Holdt mentioned how he sought out the lowliest, most oppressed people in America, living among them to learn their stories. There was clearly a humane, even theological, impulse behind this quest, and Mr. Holdt had me walking right along with him -- until the Dane followed his sentiments into what he called "the most despised of subcultures, the black drag queens of San Francisco."
As he traipsed along behind these glittery, towering transvestites, this well-meaning young man spoke about them in the language of the Gospels, implicitly comparing them to the woman caught in adultery, the prodigal son, and any number of other penitent sinners. Except, of course, what the drag queens wanted wasn't healing and repentance -- but absolute social acceptance of their lifestyles and stylin' lives. You can diagnose the sentimental cancer that is liberal Christianity as the impulse to accede to such demands, metastasized, replicating itself unhindered by natural law or revelation.
All of which is to say that humility isn't a virtue you're meant to boast about -- and simply being abject doesn't necessarily mean that you're the meek who will inherit the earth. A lot of felons are pretty abject in prison, and it's often the child-molesters and rapists in there who get treated the worst. Cry me a river.
However, we shouldn't be too impatient with people who misunderstand humility, since even the way certain holy people talk about it emits more heat than light. When canonized saints go on at length on how they're the lowest of sinners, it can serve as a wholesome reminder to those of us tempted to lazy smugness. Or it just might induce a bout of scrupulosity so severe that it leads us to give up. If even Mother Teresa trembled for her salvation . . . really, what's the point? Would you pass me that bong, Lebowski?
Of course, when the topic of humility comes up, the elephant in the bathtub -- or, at least, the holy card crudely taped to the dashboard of the minivan -- is the Litany of Humility. Penned by the deeply spiritual Cardinal Merry del Val, a faithful servant of the great St. Pius X, it would seem to come highly recommended. And pious folks I've known still swear by it. But give it a read and see why instead I swear at it:
O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus. From the desire of being loved . . .
From the desire of being extolled . . . From the desire of being honored . . . From the desire of being praised . . . From the desire of being preferred to others. . . From the desire of being consulted . . . From the desire of being approved . . . From the fear of being humiliated . . . From the fear of being despised . . . From the fear of suffering rebukes . . . From the fear of being calumniated . . . From the fear of being forgotten . . . From the fear of being ridiculed . . . From the fear of being wronged . . . From the fear of being suspected . . . That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may be esteemed more than I . . .
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease . . . That others may be chosen and I set aside . . . That others may be praised and I unnoticed . . . That others may be preferred to me in everything. . . That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should. . . A Catholic shrink I once knew said he kept this prayer out of the hands of the clinically depressed; indeed, the speaker in this prayer sounds like he's already afflicted with that condition. I'd also keep it away from spouses of any kind of addict, and pretty much every teen -- except for beauty queens and quarterbacks. Just reading the thing, I can feel the serotonin draining out of my head. What is more, St. Thomas teaches that it's wrong for us to practice humility when it tempts others to sin. That means that accepting abuse, or resigning yourself needlessly to suffering an injustice, may in fact be un-Christian things to do. Nowadays we call it "enabling."
Now, it's critical for Christians to slip the snares of Vainglory -- the yearning for undeserved praise, and the tendency to take personal pride in things God handed you on a silver platter. Many instances of ethnic, racial, or national pride amount to one form or the other. I'll never forget the racialist who pointed to the Adirondacks and said to me with a smile: "See those mountains? White men built those mountains." ("See those pyramids? African Americans built those pyramids.")
But the sentiments in the litany seem less a rejection of such nonsense than a comprehensive denial of most of the natural impulses God built into our psyche. To make this point more fully: If it's good to wish all these things for one's self, then one should equally wish them for one's children. I challenge the reader to go through the litany above and substitute for "I" the words "my son" or "my daughter." Hence, "That others may be loved more than my son, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it." That kind of takes the red paint right off the Schwinn, doesn't it?
Of course, there's a way to give this litany a more charitable reading, and here I think we might come upon the truth behind the holy card: In the first part of the prayer, you're asking Christ to deliver you from desire and fear: desire for good but inessential things, and fear of all sorts of suffering -- which in itself is objectively evil. Now God can bring good out of evil, but that doesn't mean we should go out and canonize Judas, no matter what National Geographic says. Our Lord in Gethsemane wasn't pumped up about the prospect of His suffering; he hadn't pestered a spiritual director into letting Him volunteer to die on a cross. He begged the Father to spare Him, and I think here we should follow His example. The Church encouraged martyrs to be steadfast; she steadfastly didn't encourage people to seek martyrdom. There was a whole school of heretics in the early Church called the Circumcellions, who made their name by rushing out and taunting Roman officials until they got themselves fed to the lions. (Happily, this kind of heresy tends to persecute itself.)
Insofar as we ask God to free us from anxiety over the future, we're acting like penitent packrats who bring in a professional organizer to help us throw out half our stuff: By unloading extra baggage, and weaning ourselves away from excessive attachment to the easy and the pleasant, we're freeing ourselves for service. If I really cannot bear to fly coach, that will usually mean I can't afford to travel. Likewise, if the only time you can bear to witness to the gospel is among like-minded folks who will nod and pass the donuts, your usefulness to the Kingdom is rather . . . limited. In this light, I can see why St. Ignatius insisted that his Jesuits try to cultivate what reads to me like a punishing version of humility: actively wishing to suffer as Jesus did. By freeing men up from wholesome natural impulses, you can make them psychologically almost bulletproof -- which is why the Church's persecutors, from the Samurai to Elizabeth I's professional priest-hunters, were always most scared of the Jesuits. They'd been through humility boot camp.
Still, for most of us, a little of this sort of thing goes a long way. St. Thomas teaches that humility is a subdivision of the virtue of Temperance -- the rational estimation of one's true merits, seen in the cold light both of one's sins and of God's many gifts. A consistent awareness that all our good acts are only possible (after the Fall) thanks to actual graces, and that our very existence is contingent on God's deciding each moment to keep us from falling into the Void . . . all this should be quite enough to keep the average man from succumbing to Vainglory. ("See this great country? Catholics founded this country.")
Myself, I think the good cardinal's litany should be reserved for future missionaries to Burma and patients with a formal diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It's not so much a humility nutrient as a humility chemo. And myself, I'm kind of vain about my nice brown head of hair.
John Zmirak is the author, most recently, of the graphic novel The Grand Inquisitor and is Writer-in-Residence at Thomas More College in New Hampshire. He writes weekly for InsideCatholic.com. Readers have left 19 comments. I was actually given this litany as a penance. However, I am also a proud person. I agree with you, that maybe this isn't a blanket prayer for everyone, but not because it is wrong, but because not everyone is ready to take it the right way. The Priest who gave it to me as a penance did so after I confessed about 2 or 3 situations where I was overly proud of a good work I had done, and used it to be lazy, self-congratulatory, or even proud in relation to the people I did the good works for. In this case, its a wonderful prayer, and it has taught me a vast lesson about how we do not even own the good things we do, and therefore we should learn not to desire them, not to fear people misunderstanding our attempts at charity, and in the end, really and truly doing things only for others (which is what the third part really is about). But you are right, this is only applicable to people who understand themselves as a child of God, and in our world, where the dignity of humanity is so often assaulted (at the same time that the vanities of humankind are lauded), many people need first to be told their worth. But at some point in the Christian journey, everyone must learn this lesson that the above litany teaches, and at some point along the road of sanctity, everyone must learn to say it. Written by Okie I do find it interesting that we as modern day Catholics can forgive every sin and turn the repentant sinner into a hero - whether it is Bernard Nathanson the abortionist, Paul the murderer of Christians, Augustine the wild pagan, countless numbers of addicts, thieves, murderers, Satanists, etc. Every sin but one. The one society associates with our priests and mentioned in this article - child molestation. No matter how repentant the child molester is, he is not to be honored for his repentance, looked on as a model of conversion, or allowed to become or retain his priesthood. Instead, he is to be drummed to the fringe of society and viewed as unrepentant and unable to repent for all his years. What does this say about us as Catholics that we would sooner forgive someone who has blasphemed the Holy Spirit than a repentant child molester? Written by Mike Jackson Thank you very much for this article. I never liked this litany until now because when I first read it, I was not sure exactly from whom was I praying to be delivered...(maybe because I am not a native-born English speaker?) You just articulated how I felt about this prayer. Again, thank you! "Deliver me, Jesus. From the desire of being loved . . ." I had taken this as prayer to be delivered from the desire of being loved by Jesus Himself. Now, why would I want Him not to love me? "From the fear of being forgotten . " Why would I not to be afraid of being forgotten by Him? I'm the dying thief on the cross! Therefore my prayer will always be, "Jesus, remember me." "That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease . ." If I were a missionary, I wouldn't want my message of the Gospel to decrease as I (my reputation) decrease. So that others may increase? Who are these "others?" and what is their message? The true test of humility is Truth. If others find you worthy of some praise, by all means say, "Thank you. (It's all God's doing,)" Desiring to be decreased so that others may increase sounds to me like false modesty. Personally, I find this psalm to be a better prayer of humility: Psalm 103 Bless the LORD, O my soul. and all within me bless His holiness, Bless the Lord, O my soul, And forget not His benefits: Who pardons all your iniquities, and Who heals all your ills, Who redeems you from utter ruin, And crowns your life with His love. (...) From everlasting to everlasting He is God And His love for those who FEAR Him Praise the Lord all you His angels Praise the Lord all His works! (...) Who fills your days with good things you DESIRE your youth renewed like the eagle's The LORD does righteous deeds, brings justice to all the oppressed. Written by Marie I have to disagree alittle with the author of this article. I don't think this prayer is for everyone at the same time, but somewhere on our journey towards Christ, this prayer is essential. I started saying this prayer on a daily basis about a year ago. I absolutely hated this prayer at first, I thought because of my passion and some of my other talents that God has given each of us, I assumed I would do God's work in a particular way that best exemplified my characteristics. Since saying this prayer, I have found that my need to pray is so much more important than my need to persuade. I have humbly stepped back from the limelight of thinking I can help this person or this situation by trying to convince them with words. I now know my simple daily actions and my passion for praying is the most important thing I can do. I have found Christ in humility. Written by Laurie Idk. I gave this prayer to my husband, and I think that some weeks, it is the only thing that keeps him from being completely discouraged at work. During certain times in your life, I believe this prayer can really be a source of inspiration and faith. Written by Lindsay This article has really struck a nerve with me, Mr. Zmirak. The more I reread it and think about it, I think you really have neglected how important this prayer is for so many. What about our priests and other religious orders? Would the Vatican have to be looking into certain convents about some of their very proud behaviour if they were just alittle more humble? Some of these nuns and priests are all about changing the Catholic Church to enable bad behaviour and sin. (homosexuality, women priests, married priests, the list goes on and on). This is all under the guise of making people feel better about themselves and their actions instead of glorifying God and humbly serving. They have put their own feelings and needs in front of their committment to serve the church. What about the Catholic colleges? The arrogance of the priests at Notre Dame were on display for all of us to see. No humility was present there. The world is filled with messages about "it's all about me". How many people neglected their Catholic teachings in this last election? Imagine if the world was alittle more humble like Jesus was, maybe we wouldn't need a healthcare bill or other social bills because we would actually care more about others than ourselves and would want to serve them. If humility was not one of the most important teachings of Jesus, than why did he live his life in such a humble way, from being born in a stable to dying a very undignified death on a wooden cross? I think this prayer tries to convey a sense of becoming totally committed to and becoming like Jesus. Isn't that what we are suppose to strive for? Written by Laurie I completely agree with Laurie. What this country needs is a Gay Humility parade. Written by suzyq John, I have enjoyed a number of your columns but this is a swing and a miss as far as I am concerned. The litany is beautiful and powerful and yes, scary in some ways, but it is dead on spiritually as we must die to our own inclinations and allow God to do with as He pleases. This litany is in complete harmony with St. Paul's admonition for us to think everyone better than us. It is complete harmony with St. Therese of Liseux being content for the Lord to ignore her and not use her. It conforms perfectly with St. Benedict's 12 degrees of humility the twelth of which is the following: "The twelfth degree of humility is, when a monk is not only humble of heart, but always letteth it appear also in his whole exterior to all that see him; namely, at the Work of God, in the garden, on a journey, in the field, or wherever he may be, sitting, walking, or standing, let him always have his head bowed down, his eyes fixed on the ground, ever holding himself guilty of his sins, thinking that he is already standing before the dread judgment seat of God, and always saying to himself in his heart what the publican in the Gospel said, with his eyes fixed on the ground: 'Lord, I am a sinner and not worthy to lift up mine eyes to heaven'; and again with the Prophet: 'I am bowed down and humbled exceedingly.' Yes it is a difficult litany but it is difficult because the cure for sin is difficult-it is the Cross! Written by Chris http://tinyurl.com/n95egg I think this post about the Litany of Humility and instilling humility in our kids sort of deflates your analogy of putting your child in the liturgy in your place. If my child's soul is my first priority, should I not expect to have my soul pierced with sorrow as Mary's was. Not *desire* it, but expect it? Written by Lindsay It is complete harmony with St. Therese of Liseux being content for the Lord to ignore her and not use her. St. Therese also knew she could not, in all honesty, see herself in the prodigal son. Instead, she identified herself with the older son. No, she did not share his jealous attitude, but simply the fact that "everything the Father has is hers." Written by Marie I would not pray the prayer as you suggested about my children simply because that would change the prayer entirely to something it is not. On the other hand I would hope that my children would be able to pray this incomparable prayer themselves with true humility. Written by John Litany for Humility does it for me. YMMV. Never raped or killed anyone purposefully, but I'm one proud son-of-a-bitch. The pray is TO Jesus, so we are not asking to not be loved by Him. It is the honor and praise or fear of the worldly that we must not seek. We are all taught but it hard to keep in mind sometimes that he world despises Jesus---if we need to be told that today in America we may be in denial. I agree this prayer may not be appropriate for those faint of heart and with emotional problems but for the rest of us who tend to leave our humility to a great extent at the Church door on the way out--yeah its extreme, but a good one. Jesus sweated drops of blood on Holy Thursday and sought to have this cup pass, but he was human in all ways---he also was born as lowly as can be imagined and did the will of The Father sacrificing his humanity on the cross to save us. The God of the universe humbled Himself---that fact alone is awesome and should be dwelled upon by us day and night. Written by Dan I don't know John. You are one of my most favoite writers, but I'm 50/50 on this one. When I first had my "conversion" (still ongoing of course, but by conversion I mean the ah ha moment when I began to honestly try to live in obedience). Here's the thing. In my "lost sheep so ever happy to have been found" state, I prayed this prayer for over a year daily in front of the Blessed Sacarament, so far from any real sense of humality it was hard to even pray the words. Well at the start, I had a great life (by earthly standards of course). Two years later, the bottom pretty much fell out of everything, taking me to a place I never thought possible. However, it was only IN those "never thought possible places and situations", I think I finally started to see the world and others the way Christ wants us to see it. It's much better now, and I seem to have "bounced back" as fast as I fell, but it was one heck of a ride all the way to the bottom. Even though I beleive it was "hell on earth" for almost 2 years, I'm forever gratful for having been there. I no longer pray that prayer after a very holy priest told me we should never pray for humility, as it comes with our own holiness. He told me the most important thing to pray for was courage and the Holy Spirit, to live out to that which we are called. And if we do that, even a baby step always seems to ends up in a lesson in humility. I'm still glad I prayed it, glad that God took me at my "prayer", but have learned that indeed, as we live out the faith with courage, it can do nothing but chip away at our pride. I've got plenty more chipping to go, and trust God will give me the humilty for that which awaits me, but I do think that no prayer can substitute for living faith with courage. Written by Klaire I tend to side with John on this one. In fact some of those who ostensibly disagree with the perceived slight of the Litany in fact agree the Litany isn't for everyone--John's main point. I came across this prayer some years ago and, out of admiration for Cardinal del Val, thought it would be edifying to pray it daily. Unfortunately after some months I realized it simply exacerbated my self-denigrating demeanor and made me more self-concerned, not less, and less able to serve others. John's article is in fact aimed at faithful Catholics, not at the world or (pretty much the same thing) liberal Catholics, both of whom manifestly need more humility. There are two possible errors: that of the world that seeks total self-aggrandizement, and that of what I'll call the hyper-religious that seeks total self-abasement. The latter is in fact the ontological stance of the gnostics to which we faithful Catholics are all too prone. The "first grace" is in fact nature, and our natural desire for natural goods is what primarily moves us to be and do good. The religious state is for a select few, and while we lay people should imitate some of their virtues (to refine our natural impulses), others are clearly out of place. For example, should one not seek to be loved by (and be lovable to) one's spouse and children? We Catholics believe that grace builds on nature and that grace in fact perfects nature, not destroys it. Humility has its proper place. As St. Gregory the great writes, echoing our Lord, the proud must be humbled and the humble exalted. I think John was merely making the point that there are humble people around us for whom the Litany is poison. The Litany is no panacea. LG Much like death, the Litany for Humility is for every Christian... just not for every Christian right now. Before we enter into heaven, we will all accept and embrace this Litany. It can be no other way. Our Lord did not experience the Crucifixion in order to spend eternity with our huge egos and ridiculous insecurities. Written by Mark "You can diagnose the sentimental cancer that is liberal Christianity as the impulse to accede to such demands, metastasized, replicating itself unhindered by natural law or revelation." Wonderfully done. This sentence is my favorite. Written by Amy Smith In this age of Twitter, Facebook, Hot or Not, etc., I don't think there is a better prayer for society. Unless we are free of these desires, we cannot be Christian. Christ told us we must be willing to abandon our very parents (which when he told that to the Jews must've been shocking) in order to be worthy. It is a vaccination against peer pressure. My biggest difficulty with this prayer is that it seems to ask humility for the one praying it, but not for anyone else. If being decreased in the opinion of the world is a GOOD thing, then why would you pray that "others increase" in the opinion of the world? Isn't that a little like saying, "Lord, make my neighbor proud and make me humble," or, "Lord, let my neighbor struggle with the temptations of popularity while I remain invisible to others"? Perhaps it's just the wording, but it bothers me to ask such a thing for my neighbor--and it's really difficult for me to preach the Gospels and be a good example to others if no one (except God) knows I exist! So I'm with John on this. It's not a prayer for those who tend toward scrupulosity, or who already are humble without trying too hard to be. If you are a person who fears suffering for Christ, and/or desires praise from the world, then it certainly can be a helpful prayer. But too much focus on the self--even on those traits and habits that need improvement--can really be distracting from what we should be doing: loving and serving God and others. Written by Amy (aka CatholicRose) |








