Humility 1: False Humility

I recently heard a gentleman talking about humility. He mentioned asking people at a retreat whether they were humble. Some sucker bit and raised her hand--Ha! She isn't humble, or she wouldn't raise her hand!

How droll!

How totally, almost damnably false.

This peculiar view of humility is common, unfortunately: it is the Virtue That Dare Not Speak Its Name. The first (and perhaps still the only) writer I've seen get this right is C. S. Lewis. Unfortunately, many of his "fans" have never read his writings. Pity, that.

Anyway--it doesn't take much examination to locate the problem. Suppose there is a truly humble person. You ask him, "Are you humble?" What does he--can he--answer?

1. If he says "Yes," we automatically dismiss his claim: it's a trick question for which an affirmative answer is impossible even though we have already stipulated that it would be true. That is, we have excluded truth as a possibility.

2. If he says, "No," then he is at best mistaken or deluded and at worst lying. So the only answer we will accept is a mistake, a delusion, or an outright lie. And this is a virtue?

Note that real virtues do not cost us self-knowledge: it's the vices that numb us to reality. That's why we like them. We drink to forget, in other words, though we get drunk on Pride, Wrath, Lust, and so forth. If we concentrate on vices, they will blind us to the guy on the cross and to the same guy not in the tomb but enthroned at his Father's right hand. If you fight vices and exercise virtue, you'll know as much about yourself as your friends and enemies do.

So the fact that this so-called humility at best calls for loss of self-knowledge tells us that it's really a vice. Its patron sinner is of course Uriah Heep.

Someone will probably claim that my thought experiment assumes an impossibility: no one is truly humble. Untrue: at least One was truly humble--and he said so in Matt 11:29! So by the usual reasoning, Jesus himself was guilty of the sin of pride, which would interfere with his being our Savior. Drat.

Next time, I'll explain what real humility is, and why it's as plain as the nose on your face.

No Neutrality Allowed?

I once thought I was going to be tossed out of a church for heresy. It didn't actually go beyond odd looks, but it was uncomfortable.

Some friends were teaching a Sunday school class, and they had a spare session because they finished the book early. (Actually, they thought they had two.) Since there was a lot of talk about eschatology, they asked me to explain the different views. I decided to start small and build: the first session was about different premill views, and the second was supposed to be on different views of the Millennium. The second was pre-empted by an all-church function, which was just as well: it might've caused brain hemorrhages.

So what shocking thing did I do for the premills? I simply took the first part of 1 Thess 2 and explained how different groups interpreted it: pretribs, midtribs, pre-wraths, and posttribs, in that order. I wasn't playing favorites; I gave strengths and weaknesses for each view. But that was seen as proselyting for some view or other. I'm still not sure which one I was supposedly promoting.

Part of the problem was that the assistant pastor's wife was there for some reason. (Yes, I know: I always wondered why the pastor needed an assistant wife too.) She was Not Pleased, and it spread. The worst problem came when she flat-out denied that pretribs have anxiety about finding themselves alone unexpectedly. (This is the "Left Behind" syndrome, where you think everyone else has gone in the Rapture and you didn't get called out.) I know for a fact that this anxiety exists, having experienced it myself and having heard other pretribs allude to it.

I decided not to defend the point. It turned out I didn't have to: an elderly lady laughed and said that she had been there personally and knew many others who did too. Oops!

Could I be blamed for that? Could be and was.

So what's the lesson here? In some areas neutrality is impossible. You're either One of Us or One of Them, and One of Us wouldn't go talking about Them as if they were anything but wrong-headed idiots. The real downside is that by being neutral you wind up being One of Them to everyone, which is a lonely position.

It's still worth it.

The Sacred Cliché

The Sacred Cliché is the only one still applauded by critics, even though it’s as old as a seventies newscast. It involves someone with a disadvantage, whether physical (blindness, paralysis, etc.) or social (ethnic minority, female, etc.), who is put down based on the disadvantage. But it turns out that the disadvantaged person is amazingly (even impossibly) good at something, and the skeptic is completely blown away as a result. So the guy in the wheelchair can still beat him at basketball, the girl can still beat up a guy twice her size who probably has a lot more practical combat experience than she does, and so on.

I deplore this on two grounds. First, it’s patronizing to the disadvantaged person. If he has any sense, he likely knows that his disadvantage (even a social one, such as race) does not confer any super powers. He’s still average, like as not, and from my own experience I can tell you that the only super power a guy in a wheelchair has is that he can’t walk. The better approach would be to note that if the person has been told (especially if the disadvantage is social) that he’s stupid, incompetent, or something like that, again, he’s probably average, and thus superior to what the other person thinks. That can give the element of surprise. Will it be enough to take the villain? If the villain is above average, probably not. But the villain is also likely to be average, so even a slight and temporary edge can be enough.

The second problem is that it can lead to unrealistic thinking. Remember a few years ago when a guy escaped on the way to trial? (This was in Atlanta, I think.) He was a black belt in a couple martial arts, and he was built like a linebacker. His sole guard was a grandmother who was about a foot shorter than he was. When asked why they had such a guard for such a prisoner, the authorities replied that the guard had “so much spirit” that they figured she could handle him. In fiction, yes. But even fiction shouldn’t seem like fiction.