Confession on the Breath...

I was reading this blog post from Logismoi (It seems that piggy backing is becoming a habit, my apologies). I must admit that I'm not terribly familiar with Papadiamandis, but I find Logismoi's argument to be intriguing in asserting that Papadiamandis is still "saintly" regardless of his bad habits. I think perhaps I can use this to shed some light on my 'angry man'.

I mentioned before that I had a way of focusing the 'angry man' into a display of righteous indignation. Much of this, I believe, is for the benefit of my 'character'. We all love a protagonist with a just cause. The problem is that my motives aren't always so noble. I have said "Thou fool' (Matthew 5:22) in many ways over the years. I have brow-beaten and bullied many an adversary, and made many an enemy in debate.

Just as the alcoholic might hide his addiction under pretense of fun, I hide my anger under pretense of moral authority. The difference is that I could theoretically maintain the "show" for my entire life. Addiction has a way of forcing itself to the surface. The alcoholic will most often have to come to grips at some point with his or her need. Friends and family will likewise become aware. My "normal human behavior" is deadly to me but easily accepted (even applauded) in the world in which we live, alcoholism is not so easily accepted. Therefore, I might concede that the alcoholic has a better 'shot' at Salvation than I do. My 'angry man' leads to the 'prideful man' (another target). The alcoholic leads to the 'broken man' which is much closer to where I should be starting. I had to have my greatest enemy revealed to me in Confession. The fallen alcoholic carries his confession on his breath.

Of course, I am not an alcoholic and I cannot venture much further into what such a struggle might entail. Let it suffice for now to know that my being such a 'normal person' has its dangers. The world in which we operate places value in some of the very things which I must reject about myself. Modern society sees long-suffering as a sign of weakness, when recent experience tells me quite the opposite. It is extremely difficult NOT to defend oneself against the odd 'unfairness' in the world. Beyond, that, it takes nothing short of Grace to actually allow for the idea that we are not entitled to get our way. Am I advocating being the world's doormat? No. My goal in destroying the 'angry man' is to grow beyond knee jerk reactions to the odd inconvenience, to see past my own desires and passions. The 'angry man' makes me hang on when I should be letting go.

Humble: Verb or Adjective?

The other day, a co-worker and I were discussing something. He, being Pentecostal, and I, ascribing to Eastern Orthodoxy, certainly have our differences. I’m not sure what the original subject was, but we landed on the topic of humility. Both of us had a lot of trouble defining the word “humble”.

According to Oxford, “humble” is an adjective which means:

     Having or showing a modest or low estimate of one's own importance.

This would is probably a sufficient definition for the use of the word in common, everyday language. In all outward appearances, the person whom we describe as “humble” expresses his or her humility in the form of actions. Thus, it is often difficult to define “humble” without using an example. The definition is more in line with a “verb” or action rather than the adjective that it should be. Humility should be described as an attribute or, in the Christian sense, a spiritual condition.

The question at hand is, how should one define the actual “condition” of being “humble”? If one is working toward possessing such a condition, what is it they are actually working for? Alexander Schmemann, in chapter 1 of his popular Great Lent: Journey to Pascha, insisted that God was also humble. He explained this opinion by defining “humility” as essentially being synonymous with “completeness”. God is humble because praise adds nothing to His Glory. In the same way, a humble Christian should never allow worldly praise to build his or her pride. Alexander Schmemann wrote more than once on “humility”, and he better defines and explains this position in chapter 2 of the same work, as excerpted in an article posted here.

As it stands, perhaps the simplest definition for “humility” would be:

     Possessing accurate knowledge of one’s self.

This definition, while encompassing Alexander Schmemann’s, probably better conveys the Christian sense of the word. God is indeed humble in that He has an accurate knowledge of Himself. No human being is nearly as humble as God. In humanity, however, humility would involve knowledge of the depth of one’s own sinfulness.

A relative and I were messaging one another concerning her recent visit to a 7^th Day Adventist church in our hometown. Her experience was generally positive and she was very excited about the fact that they did “feet washing”. My Great Grandmother, who goes to a Primitive Baptist church, does feet washing as well. She went on to explain to me that it was to show humility just as Jesus did.

This is certainly a noble idea. But it lead me to wonder about whether it was effectively displaying real humility or was it an exercise to develop humility. In the parable, The Publican and the Pharisee, we get the sense that the Pharisee probably performed all of the tasks that are designed to display humility toward God. The Publican, as we know, actually possessed humility before God.

Prefacing the following with the statement that my Great Grandmother is an exceptionally humble woman, she takes a great deal of pride in the fact that her church does these practices as an act of humility. Perhaps the take home lesson is to recognize the many acts of piety within the Orthodox Church should be used as tools to gain humility, rather than performing them as displays of humility. If the lesson is taken to heart and we actually begin to possess humility, we will display it as a natural expression of ourselves.