The Pompous
and the Humble
There is something comical about pride. It makes a man look ridiculous.
Of course, it is primarily an offense against almighty God and a theological
absurdity: the claim that the gifts of God are your own accomplishment. But in
the Christian view, the absurdity of pride plays out as foolishness. The
ancient pagan stories present pride as tragic. But Christians know that pride
has been conquered. We can laugh at it and create stories to mock it. Thus such
literary figures as Shakespeare’s Falstaff, Dickens’s Mr. Bumble, and
Andersen’s nude emperor.
But before any of those authors
appeared on the scene, our Lord Himself painted an amusing portrait of the
pompous fool in the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. (Lk 18:9-14) He
tells us that the Pharisee, convinced of his own righteousness, took up his position to pray. Now, we can
easily imagine the position this kind of man would take: chest puffed out, nose
in the air, eyebrows raised. In short, the posture of the aloof, haughty man
who doesn’t know how absurd he looks.
More foolish still, the Pharisee then
prays, if you pay close attention, to himself. This is
inevitable for the proud man, because he regards no one as above himself. In
effect, he has no one else to pray to. For him God is not someone to speak with
but just an occasion to talk to himself about his favourite topic: himself. He
may make a pretence of speaking to God, but his prayer is ultimately
self-referential.
This self-centred prayer reveals an
inevitable effect of pride: it isolates us. It renders us so turned inward that
we become incapable of real dialogue or genuine relationships. We become so
focused on ourselves – out of vanity or insecurity – that we cannot see others.
The truly proud man might speak at people, but
he never speaks with them.
Now, if pride were simply a matter of
the pompous fool, then it would be amusing and little more. But pride also
tends to become cruel. To preserve his petty kingdom of self, the proud man
must beat back any perceived pretenders to the throne. As our Lord makes clear,
the proud are not only convinced of their own righteousness, they also despise
everyone else. Thus the Pharisee’s silly prayer is also spiteful: O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity – greedy,
dishonest, adulterous – or even like this tax collector.
For all its haughtiness, this prayer
actually reveals the all-encompassing slavery of pride. Notice that the
Pharisee’s good standing before God depends on his being better than others. He
gives thanks not for God’s goodness but for his own superiority to others. He
knows nothing of God’s simple love for him – not for
him as he compares to others, but for him as he is, made in God’s own image and
likeness.
So it always works. Pride traps us in an endless loop of comparison to
and competition with others in order to establish our worth before God. This
assessment inevitably produces either haughtiness, if we find ourselves
superior, or insecurity, if we find others superior. Either way, the soul knows
no peace.
The tax collector (or publican), on the other hand, reveals the simple
blessings of humility. Our culture, of course, would consider him not just
unusual but psychologically unhealthy. He seems too hard on himself: standing
off at a distance, keeping his eyes lowered, and beating his breast. Clearly a
case of “low self-esteem.”
But in fact he has esteemed himself
correctly: O God, be merciful to me a sinner.
Who is able to say otherwise before God? This humility frees him for dialogue
with God. He speaks directly to the Lord, and not just to himself. Such humble
words bring him out of the isolation of pride and sin and into a genuine
conversation with God. His simple prayer opens him to a relationship with God
and, by extension, with other people.
Our Lord summarizes the different
consequences of pride and humility: whoever exalts himself will be
humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted. Now, we
need not think that God is the one doing the humbling and exalting. Rather, the
results follow inexorably from the orientation of our souls. Pride – the
exalting of oneself — leads inevitably to being humbled precisely because it
imprisons us in the endless cycle of judgment and isolates us from God and His
grace.
Humility, on the other hand, leads to our exaltation – not because of a
capricious decision of God but because it opens us to the glorifying work of
God. May the Lord grant us an increase in this virtue, to free us from the
bondage of self and increase His life within us.
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