The picture today is a sculpture entitled “Angels Unaware.” Pope Francis commissioned it for the World Day of Refugees and Migrants in 2019. The original stands in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican. This second casting of 140 refugees and immigrants is on the campus of Catholic University in Washington, DC.
I saw this sculpture while on a trip to Washingon, DC this week. The sculpture, the conference about refugees I attended, and my own adventures wandering about the city inform this reflection on humility. The value of humility is the theme of today’s readings.
Luke 14:1, 7-14
I’m writing this on the train back to Kentucky. We were an hour and a half late leaving Union Station. The comments around me must have been of the same ilk as people’s comments when Jesus attended the dinner that prompted today’s parable and advice. They would fit under the umbrella caption of “Entitlement.” I heard no one around me on the train say they had some specific important thing to do. It was the inconvenience of waiting in a car without electricity, air-conditioning, or access to the bathroom or food—all inconveniences, but no more–that fostered great grumbling.
Entitlement must have been the theme at the dinner at the Pharisee’s house, too. In this case it was a matter of seating. People wanted the places of honor—next to the host? Next to Jesus? Jesus perhaps realized that only people with some sense of “honor” or privilege would be suffering from Entitlement. He turned to the host and offered a way to change the whole situation at the next banquet. He said, “When you hold a lunch or dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when your hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Vainglory and Humility
Both the host and his guests were suffering from “vainglory.” Vainglory can be defined as, “pride in one’s qualities or accomplishments.” Sr. Meg Funk, in her book, Thoughts Matter, describes it as “doing the right thing for the wrong reason.” She notes that the word “vain” means nothingness or illusion. Thinking of it that way, you could define the Gospel problem Jesus noted as hospitality given and received uselessly—wasted.
Sr. Meg goes on to put vainglory and humility in context: “Vainglory is the opposite of dejection. These two afflictions are the reverse sides of the same coin. In dejection, I put myself down; in vainglory, I place myself above. The practice of humility is to be neither too high nor too low. The practice of right thinking is to attribute to God’s goodness any glory I see in myself. To be grateful is fitting and proper. But if, under the influence of self-delusion, I become overconfident, I then become vain. Vainglory is called presumption [aka entitlement] when I act out on the assumption that I’m better than someone else.”
Humility is having an opinion of self that is satisfied to be without privilege, without honor, without entitlement. It is not necessarily deprecation of self—but it is not a glorying in self. It is more a forgetting of self sufficiently to be in solidarity with others who are also without honor, privilege, or entitlement—and giving God thanks to be with them.
Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29
Ben Sira, writing 175 to 200 years before Jesus, describes humility and its advantages well.
“My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts. Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God.”
That was what Jesus was trying to teach the Pharisees. Going to the lower place, inviting the lowly for dinner—it’s a way to enter into a different space, a space that actually is better, for it is where God likes to spend time. When we are humble, we are open to new experience, to solidarity with those who are multiple varieties of the beautiful face of God. We are dining with the Lord on his terms.
Psalm 68:4-5,6-7,10-11
Today’s Psalm reflects the theme of the value of humility as a way for the glory of God to show. The refrain makes me think of the sculpture of immigrants: “God, in your goodness, you have made a home for the poor.”
Years ago, I read a book by Mary Piper about her volunteer work with refugees in Lincoln, Nebraska. The name of the book was In the Middle of Everywhere. As I read it, I thought, “I know nothing of other people and cultures. I wish I could have experiences to know other peoples.”
God has graced me now for over twenty years with experiences of connection with the world of refugees and immigrants. I heard about the sculpture at the refugee conference. I sat with it a while and the Psalm sang in me as I carefully studied each person and wondered about them:
The father of orphans and the defender of widows
is God in his holy dwelling.
God gives a home to the forsaken;
he leads forth prisoners to prosperity.
A bountiful rain you showered down, O God, upon your inheritance;
you restored the land when it languished;
your flock settled in it;
in your goodness, O God, you provided it for the needy.
You can see the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in the background. All around the worship space in the basilica are little chapels with images of and devotions to Our Lady from many countries. It is a literal embodiment of these verses of Psalm. How rich is our nation spiritually and culturally because of the gifts of faith brought here by centuries of immigrants!
My work with immigrants and refugees has enhanced my desire for humility. Migration strips people of their security and often gives them gifts of humility. When I enter their world, their humility informs me and I want to learn from them.
Applications
God made an application in me this week—not so much from these deep thoughts as from wandering around the city. I’m familiar with Washington. I love and understand the Metro. I had in my mind a “higher place” at the table of adventure. I had two free days and intended to ride the Metro and walk wherever I wished–like I did twenty years ago.
God sent me to a lower place—the place appropriate for a 73 year old body which does not get a lot of aerobic exercise. I could go ONE PLACE each day. It took all my energy. I had to frequently stop and rest. It was in that “to a lower place” stopping that I learned to appreciate humility a bit more.
As I sat on low walls and benches, I stopped being about my business to let myself be fascinated by the world around me: a squirrel that did multiple gymnastics to reach what might have been the last berry on a bush; a toddler who learned to climb steps; tourists with definite opinions. I overheard many conversations–only a few in English–and watch the body language to get the gist of them. After I made a couple of mistakes in Metro direction or choice of stop, I began to not only ask for help frequently, I added a friendly comment each time. Faces brightened. There were shared smiles.
I entered into the adventure that God gave me. At one level I was just another tourist in the city. At another level, I was a fascinated woman who grew in appreciation of people all around me–and thus in awareness of the value of humility.
To God be the glory! He let the fun be mine.
Prayer
The Litany of Humility by Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val fits today:
O Jesus, meek and humble of heart,
Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being loved,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled, etc.
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,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase
and I may decrease, etc.
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
That others may be praised and I go 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.
