To my soul’s delight, I finished re-reading Thomas A’Kempis The Imitation of Christ last week. It
has been seven years since I last read it, and although I can remember how my
soul thoroughly enjoyed it, even keeping a journal with my reflections on each
chapter, I confess that my un-Sheldonian brain did not retain much of its
content. As I was reading A’Kempis again, I could not but think that the book
is really for me. It has a way of piercing my soul, of hurting my spirit, and
of breaking my heart. I wish all theology books are like this. It is true that
many of the books I read elicit great brain synaptic activity, but so few can
really give me sweet spiritual flogging.
One of the major emphases of the book is humility. A’Kempis keeps on going back
to this over-used term, and his incessant recrudescence to the theme actually
makes the book quite repetitive. But this continuous recoiling is neither an
accident, nor an evidence of A’Kempis’ unorganized thinking. Rather, that
the theme pops out here and there demonstrates A’Kempis’ emphatic argument that
humility is inseparably intertwined with every important Christian virtue.
This is quite profound, because it means that humility is a
virtue that can neither stand on its own nor can be lived out in isolation from
other Christian virtues. For instance, one, therefore, cannot attempt to live
in humility without love, or without patience. In a sense, there is a circular
relationship between humility and other virtues. Again, using love as
illustration, firstly, one cannot love without humility (humility is a
necessary requirement to be able to love); and secondly, one cannot live out
humility without love (love is the necessary requirement to be able to live in
humility). Hence, the seemingly simple admonition to be humble has several silent
admonitions to be loving, patient, joyful in affliction, peaceful,
understanding, kind, long-suffering, etc. No wonder humility is such a
difficult thing to live out and achieve. It requires a web of
several-other-also-difficult-virtues.
I can go on and on relating humility with other virtues or
themes, but I am particularly interested in relating it with another emphasis
by A’Kempis: selflessness. To be
selfless is to be self-effacing, to live ek-sistence
(living with the focus on the “other” – the “other” is everyone who is not
“me”), or to exist as a centrifugal creature. It is here, when we relate
humility with selflessness, that we see the utter difficulty of living a life
of humility. Let’s face it: humanity by nature is selfish and self-centered. We
are an I-man, an I-centred people, and I have yet to meet someone whose life
can disprove me. (And the guy I see in the mirror is definitely the worst of
all who are proud and self-centred.) But how do we know that we still fall
short? Here are some questions we can ask:
1. Do
I always have the urge to tell others about me, my achievements, or my opinion?
2. Do
I notice how conversations I am a part of become a talk about me?
3. Do
I have a superiority complex, which can be grounded in my past and present
achievements or positions (both real and imaginary)?
4. Can
I take rebukes, corrections or a stern advice?
5. Do
I aspire for recognition – great or small – for the things I do in the
ministry?
The number of questions above is by no means exhaustive. The
questions only represent a few of the many introspecting questions we can ask
the Holy Spirit to tell us about ourselves. Actually, my personal responses to
the questions are embarrassing.
For sure, it is insufficient for us to ask these questions
and then move on without at least attempting to find the antidote to such a disease
(or more like an epidemic, because the whole world in inflicted with it). The
Spirit has planted in my heart, for a long time now, the conviction that I
first look to Christ for answers. Thus, I could not but come to the biblical
Jesus, who is portrayed by Paul as both the embodiment and exemplar of
humility. In particular, the kenosis passage
in Philippians 2 is very important, for it is here also that the
interrelationship between self-emptying and humility is underscored. But here
is a problem: is it possible for humanity to empty itself at the ontological
level? Jesus’ self-emptying was not only a kenosis
of function, capability or attributes. He became man (the male gender is intentional, because it is that
which is historical – a fact that
feminist and liberal theologians should get over with) in the most literal
sense. He was neither a hologram of a male Jew, as Docetics believed, nor a
poor copy of what is real, as Plato thought. Here we see the intensification of
what self-emptying means. He poured
out himself – not just what he has, but himself – and he lived his entire
earthly life pro nobis, and thus for the
“other.”
In one sense, the question “How can human beings abandon
themselves at the ontological level?” is an abstract question that anticipates
no response. The real, practical and important question is this: how can we be selfless at the
ontological level when emptying ourselves at the economic, political, and
functional levels of our existence is already exceedingly difficult? The fact
is that it is easy to take pride in what we have or achieve – whether it be
economic standing, political position (including ecclesiastical roles), or occupational
station. We become too attached with these roles that we forget that they do
not constitute who we really are. We deceive ourselves if we think and act as
if these external loci of our identity constitute who we are. For instance, I
can be called Dr. Dick Eugenio, but I cannot be too attached to the Dr. in front of my name, for at the end
of the day, I am only Dick Eugenio. Similarly, I can be called Pastor Dick
Eugenio, but the Pastor in front of
my name is just an adjective describing the real person called Dick Eugenio. Here
is my point: If I become too conceited that I am unwilling to drop these titles
and masks, which are only external to who I really am, how much more will it be
difficult for me to empty myself? If
I am unwilling to be wealth-less, or to be superior-less, or to be bossy-less, how
can I even begin to experience the process of being self-less? If I am unwilling to rid myself of things that are
external to who I am, how can I begin to empty my own self?
Thus, the beginning of selflessness and humility is to uncover
our true selves, the self who is buried underneath the pile of masks, gowns and
hats we wear. First, we must strip ourselves – or begin to strip ourselves – of
these external garments, then we can say that humility is making its way into ourselves.
1 comment:
Thank you! Now you reminded me of The Imitation of Christ and Might as well read that again :)- Janary
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