“One day Abba Arsenius consulted an old Egyptian monk about his prayers. Someone noticed this and said to him, ‘Abba Arsenius, how is it that you, with such a good Latin and Greek education, seek instruction from this peasant?' He replied, ‘I have indeed been taught Latin and Greek, but I do not know even the alphabet this man has to teach.' ”
For the past few days, we’ve considered humility—not as an inoffensive virtue but the very foundation upon which Christian growth depends. Without the firm under-girding of humility, all faith, hope and charity are built on sand.
In the story above, Abba Arsenius, who was reputedly one of the best-educated of all the Fathers of the Desert, puts himself to school under a peasant to learn the basics of prayer. He does this, not in some show of how humble he is, but because he wants to pray better and as a good pupil, he seeks out the one who can best teach him.
Here is the embodiment of humility. Abba doesn’t coyly reply to his questioner, “Well, my education isn’t really all that good.” He replies truthfully. “I’m well-educated in the arts of rhetoric and grammar, of mathematics and philosophy” (that’s what a “Greek and Latin” education in his day meant) “but in the school of prayer, this peasant knows far more than I.” Humility is the disposition of heart which frees us from the illusions of sin. It enables us to see more clearly.
Sin is a lie.
When I sin, I convince myself that something which isn’t true is true. I convince myself that something which belongs to you should rightfully be mine. That the pleasures of the flesh—whether of the table, the bedroom or the inviting couch—will answer the needs of the spirit; that you exist to serve me; that if God would only take my advice, everything would be better; and finally, the first, most basic sin, the sin for which humility is the genuine antidote and only real medicine—my pride: I want to be like God.
Before I can sin, I have to agree to sin, in theological language, I “assent” to sin. For any of my actions to be sinful, they have to be mine. I have to agree to them. If a bandit holds your spouse hostage and demands you lie to the police about whether you’ve seen him or not, your complying words are not sinful, because they’re not really yours. Your words are deceitful and untrue, but your will has been usurped, co-opted by the bandits threat (now if you’re holding your spouse hostage and lie to the police, your words are sinful, but in such a situation that’s probably far down the list of the sins you’re in the process of committing!).
When I sin, I’ve convinced myself that this action, which might be technically sinful, is okay for me. Or that I don’t care whether it’s sinful or not, my desire is more important. I sin because I convince myself that the result of my act will be good for me. It puts me and my wants above anything else. That’s the sin of Pride.
Pride isn’t being pleased I’m from the Great Lone Star State, or thinking the Dallas Cowboys are the Greatest Football Team in the history of all human athletics. When I say I’m proud to be an citizen of the United States, there’s little sin in such a patriotic notion. We use the word “pride” about such things, but this pride isn’t the Pride of the Seven Deadly Sins. That first sin, the sin Satan whispered into the ears and went straight into the hearts of Adam and Eve, was “You can be like God.”
It’s the root of every sin you and I commit. I set my wants above everything; “Me” above everything, God included. It’s the ultimate idolatry.
You and I do it every day, multiple times.
To be humble is to have open eyes. Humility enables us to see that the way we think things are—or ought to be—that life is “all about me,” is a lie. When I believe the lie, I sin with easy abandon, all the time thinking I’m making myself happy.
Humility, the quiet teacher of the soul, the warrior of the desert armed with a sword of fire, tells me this false happiness is buying me an eternity of grief. Sin is a lie and its ultimate payoff is unutterable sorrow. Humility says, there is another way: choose me and choose life.
Humility is seeing things as they are.
No comments:
Post a Comment