The force of humility
I really enjoy the challenge and intrigue of trying to consider the Advent stories anew each year. It feels endlessly interesting and exciting to consider that there’s always more going on within these stories than I can hold or see at one time. With each passing year, there’s a little more meaning and depth revealed. These stories have a remarkably enduring way of inviting us to see ourselves, God, and the world in fresh ways. With just a little wonder at play, we never seem to step into the same Advent story twice.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting upon the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I’ve been struck anew by the difficulty, inconvenience, and risk she was invited into in order to participate in the miracle. You see, long before Mary’s story was ever told, before she knew how things would turn out, before she was celebrated far and wide for saying a world changing ‘yes,’ before this visitation from the angel was seen as an honor by the world, Mary was a young, single, vulnerable girl who was invited into something difficult, inconvenient, and risky. Yes, this invitation contained unspeakable grace, beauty, and honor. But it also contained fearsome vulnerability. Mary had no idea how her fiancé Joseph would react. She had no idea what the social consequences might be. It is no doubt very difficult to be a young single mother in our day and age, but in Mary’s day, it was exponentially more difficult. Mary was not a girl with a bank account or safety net. Before she knew if it would be ok, she had faith and went with it. What kind of person says ‘yes’ to this kind of thing?
As the story develops, we get a glimpse into Mary’s inner world. She writes a song that illuminates the texture and terrain of her heart, soul, and desire. She expresses something that begins to make sense of what has happened and what is to come. Through her song, we begin to see the distinct character and particular longing of this young girl who has found favor with God. I imagine this song to be something those who knew Mary could identify her by. If this song was somehow jotted down on paper and found on the ground by someone who knew her, they would have seen her in the longing. Her song expresses her awareness and her lived experience that God makes things new and right again through humility. What kind of person says ‘yes’ to this kind of thing? Apparently, someone well rooted in the elusive and rare ways of humility.
In my experience, humility is hard to define. In some Christian circles, humility has taken on a meaning that seems so strangely out of sync with the people who represent its qualities in the biblical text. Sadly, the concept of humility has been confused with being unassertive. When this happens, people are encouraged to be passive, quiet or to have a low self-image. Historically, this has been particularly harmful to women and people of color. This has also been harmful when applied to victims. But this is not true humility. True humility is powerful, it enables people to act and speak up. It calls us beyond thoughts and prayers. Like the vision in Mary’s song, it defies the status quo with an audacious vision of things being made new and right again. Through humility, things are turned upside down, the empire is brought down. Rather than an accepting or laid-back response to injustice, it enables those on the underside of power to be bold, to take risks, to be active and determined. Humility has a force to it. How does it work? The key, I think, is that humility enables us to embrace reality, to operate in real time at the ground level. It leads us to be responsive to what is unfolding before us.
When we embrace and deal honestly with the reality or situation before us, something liberating occurs. We are freed from the burden of self promotion. We no longer have to put on a show for ourselves or others. We lose interest in pretending, maintaining an image, or chasing likes. When humility sinks in, we no longer want to be somewhere else doing something better. Delivered from constantly scanning for better options, we learn how to put down roots, how to push deeper into the one unique story being offered us. Through the eyes of humility, the lure of upward mobility and comfort, the desire for riches or fame are exposed for what they really are: attempts to be someone else. Humility is what enables us to say ‘yes’ to the local life we’ve been given, to the struggles and invitations right in front of us as ordinary or crazy as they may seem. When humility blossoms, we no longer want another life, we become at home with ourselves. We begin to recognize that our lives and locations are the very places we will receive gifts and opportunities from God. “In her humility,” Pope Francis writes, “Mary knows she receives everything from God. Therefore, free from herself, she is completely turned toward God and others. This is true humility: not looking on oneself, but looking toward God and others.”
This Advent, I want to remember that Mary was invited into something difficult, inconvenient and risky. What kind of person says ‘yes’ to this kind of thing? Apparently someone who is at home with themselves and God’s love enough to make a home for others. Thanks be to God for Mary. May we find ourselves at home because of her humility.
— Josh VonGunten
