The Monk’s 12 Step Program

Humility is one of those very difficult virtues to develop. What do we do to become more humble? What actions can we take? We hear more about being humbled–or even humiliated–than about humbling ourselves.

My good friend Megan is quite humble (but not anymore, now that I’ve written that–see how fleeting humility can be!). As we began talking about how to develop leaders, she expressed a desire to teach them humility. “YBH?” I said. She looked puzzled. “Yes, but how? Yes, but how?”

I didn’t have an answer, but I wanted one. Becoming more humble and leading others toward greater humility would be beautiful. She suggested putting leaders deliberately into situations in which they would be stretched, and even allowing them to fail strategically so they could learn their own limitations and the necessity of interdependence. It’s a good answer, and certainly works well to build humility passively. Later, I noticed that Richard Foster suggests serving secretly, without anyone knowing and without any reward, as a way to actively build humility.

I have been craving humility lately. Wouldn’t it be freeing to be done with posturing, maintaining an image, worrying about reputation, trying to gauge popularity, etc.? In short, it would be a relief to renounce any responsibility for another person’s judgments about me. I concern myself with who I am, and not who I seem to be. I rest upon the truth of who I actually am, no better and no worse, and wish that others hold the same view, without insisting that they have any view of me at all.

There is a freedom in true humility. That is what I am attracted to. Unburdened by the need to be seen as a good parent, and unafraid of the conclusion that I might in fact be a bad parent, I can more clearly engage in the task in front of me: responding to a toddler apparently reenacting a scene from The Exorcist in public.

On a deeper level, I recoil at the thought of my utter uselessness to God. It is too dangerous to even consider for a moment. It might mean the utter destruction of every reason I have for acting. It might destroy everything. There is courage in true humility, too.

Freely and courageously facing the dread of my own nothingness, the act of humility, is one of the purest pursuits of a monk. In The Rule of St. Benedict we find twelve steps on the ladder by which we may [paradoxically] ascend toward humility. They seem antiquated, even harsh. But in a culture that has very little idea of how to actively develop humility (and very little desire to do so), these may prove instructive.

Here they are in summary:
1. Never forget the fear of the Lord, and guard against my own wickedness.
2. Do not love my own will or my own desires, but God’s.
3. Submit to my superior in true obedience for the love of God.
4. Quietly obey under difficult or even unjust circumstances without trying to escape.
5. Do not conceal any sin from my abbot, but confess them all humbly.
6. Be content with the lowest and most menial lot, for I am not above it but below it.
7. Believe and admit that I am of less value than all others.
8. Do only what is endorsed by the common rule of the monastery.
9. Control my tongue and only speak when asked a question.
10. Do not be given to ready laughter.
11. Speak gently, seriously, modestly, briefly, reasonably, and quietly.
12. Always take the posture of the tax collector who prayed for mercy without being able even to lift his eyes to heaven–always walk with head bowed.

And here is Benedict’s promise: “Now, therefore, after ascending all these steps of humility, the monk will quickly arrive at that perfect love of God which casts out fear. Through this love, all that he once performed with dread, he will now begin to observe without effort, as though naturally, from habit, no longer out of fear of hell, but out of love for Christ, good habit and delight in virtue. All this the Lord will by the Holy Spirit graciously manifest in his workman now cleansed of vices and sins.”

Anyone want to sign up for this ancient 12 Step Program?