Not to despise the favor of any of your neighbors is humility; it ought to be accepted with thanksgiving even if it is small and of little moment.

If you do not like humility you will not like Dorotheos of Gaza. Modern English – especially in developed Western cultures – tends to define humility as weak, passive, meek, essentially making oneself a doormat. But luckily Dorotheos never had to suffer the insipid and superficial definition in English. Instead, he wresteled with the Greek – ταπεινότητα (tap-ei-no-tee-tuh) – an aggressively active term of self-denial, sacrifice, servanthood, and honesty. To get the gist of its meaning, there are few passages as pertinent as Philippians 2:3-4: “³ Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. ⁴ Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.” (NRSVue) How does this definition create a lens through which we might view ourselves, our pastoral leaders, our politicians, our celebrities, our sports heroes?

We don’t spend much time in modern culture talking about selflessness. If the driving metaphor is hierarchical, who wants to find themself on the bottom rung of the ladder? Who wants others to benefit more than themselves? Good parents certainly strive for this, but once we transcend the direct blood ties? We may not wish ill on others, but we seldom pray that everyone else might receive more blessings than we ourselves do.

And the essential element in the Greek understanding of humility so often missing in our culture is a fundamental and complete commitment to honesty in thought, word, and deed. The root of humility is humus – earth. To be humble is to be as God made us – fashioned from the earth. And since we are all from the same earth, created in the image of God, there can be no such thing as a hierarchy in the kin*dom of God. We are all of us, each one of us, a beloved child of the earth. Being dumb as dirt is not such a bad thing. And it is absolutely ridiculous to believe that my mud is in any way superior to your mud. Humility is the great equalizer, and honesty means we see ourselves truly, we present and represent ourselves truly, and we acknowledge others truly. Dishonesty has no place in humility.

And if we think more highly of others than we think of ourselves? We would celebrate other’s successes and share the suffering in other’s losses. We would go out of our way to make sure to “first, do no harm,” and, secondly, “to do all the good we can” to everyone we meet. This is a radical and difficult commitment. Humility is possible only for the strongest, healthiest, most well-adjusted among us. It certainly is not a weakness.

In the years prior to the Advent of Jesus Christ, a common prayer begged to be “lifted from the dirt” of this world. But the miracle was not that we were lifted out of the dirt – denying our very essence and identity – but that God got down and dirty with us. God was made humus – human – humble, walked among us, faced what we face, enjoyed what we enjoy, suffered what we suffer, and showed us “the way, the truth, and the life” God intends for all God’s children then and now. Humility does not make us less. Humility makes us more. More like Jesus. More like God.

What are the challenges to true humility in your life? How does your faith community inspire, encourage, and equip you in a life and faith of humility? What can you do to inspire, encourage, and equip others?