EASY TO SAY -- HARD TO EXPRESS -- HARD TO LIVE -- HARD TO WRITE

humility

All my life God has been trying to tell me something.  First He used my parents.  Then He used my grandparents.  Then my siblings ganged up on me.  Then my colleagues.  Then my superiors.  When I started to get it every day from the "Voice from my Kitchen", I figured that I could live with it for a few decades if I had to.  I could cut the time in half by only tuning in with one ear.  But even that strategy backfired.  I was blessed [blessed?] with two charming [charming?] boys [yeah, they're all boy!].  

So now, no matter whether I use only one ear or two, there is absolutely no way that I can cut the time down when I hear what they have to say to make my life more fraternal, more loving, more spiritual.  It is quite a challenge, living out the complex reality pictured on your left in the classical kanji.

I was not going to ponder this thought today.  As a matter of fact, pondering this thought is not, NOT, my favorite exercise.  It is too challenging.  I know that we all struggle with the concept in our own way.  Some of us spend inordinately large amounts of our time every day in front of our favorite mirror.  For some of us, how we look is of absolutely no consequence in our lives.  So that's not our problem.  Others of us are nerds of one stripe or another.  I'm a language guy; my brother Denis is an artist, type guy; my grandfather was a walking encyclopedia of Catholic doctrine and pious practices.  So, you say, "That's a good thing.  Others can tap into the source and fill themselves out."  True.  But don't forget that we "experts" have long noses down which we squint when fulfilling the wishes of those who "need" us.  My maternal grandmother knew that.  She never would tell any of us that we looked good or that we spoke well, or whatever.  She would say, "They don't have to know that.  Their heads will only swell."  I used to love her.  She was the world's best cook.  To me, anyway.  She had the warmest, softest hug of anybody.  She had the softest voice and the sweetest smile.  I loved her a lot.  But, and this is a big BUT, she was too humble for me.  I liked my grandfather, rough, tumble, sure of himself and assertive, no, make that ASSERTIVE.  That, I can handle.

We are told to be humble like Jesus.  Like who?  This is not a Bible class, but try this one on for size: "If you were blind, you would have no sin.  But because you say, 'We see', your sin remains." (John 9)  I got a ton more.  I'll spare you.

So why am I on the humility thought today.  Because two people, no three, communicated to me today about how they were striving to be humble.  They wanted to place themselves in the background so that God would shine forth rather than they.  One even said that he was going to have to be careful about saying nice things about me lest my head should swell beyond common sense proportions.  Actually, he's right.  He makes me think about the thought that Jesus (Him again) threw out about rich people, and it fits for us proud people, "...I assure you that they already have their reward."  

That, my friends, is the scary part.  It's also the time for me to say, "See, that's another reason why you should not cry at my funeral."