Some things are so obvious that you cannot see them. Their powers of invisibility do not lie so much within themselves as within those who cannot see them. We are hard-wired for danger, our eyes attuned to threats. We overlook the power of weakness and the vulnerability of humility – the queen and fount of all the virtues. And yet, we are surrounded by humility – it is the default position of creation itself.
The earth waits patiently for each season’s changes, even patient for the passage of eons, enduring storms, drought, ice ages, and the occasional crash of an asteroid. Christ says this:
“Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
It is an example given to us of a virtue. It is also a virtue that can easily be mistaken for passivity. In the same passage, Christ tells us to “take no thought for tomorrow.” Our mind quickly protests that tomorrow needs a bit of planning!
Our culture is built on an imaginary foundation of planning and action. We judge civilizations by what they have constructed and the tools and techniques that have been mastered. All the while, the world in which we live goes on as always. The same rain falls (or doesn’t), the same sun shines. The same stars assume their positions in the sky (though, at present, they are harder to see). The lilies still grow and tomorrow still comes whether we take thought or not. And the larger part of our lives operates in the same manner.
There is a beloved prayer attributed to the Elders of Optina:
O Lord, grant that I may meet all that this coming day brings to me with spiritual tranquility. Grant that I may fully surrender myself to Thy holy Will.
At every hour of this day, direct and support me in all things. Whatsoever news may reach me in the course of the day, teach me to accept it with a calm soul and the firm conviction that all is subject to Thy holy Will.
Direct my thoughts and feelings in all my words and actions. In all unexpected occurrences, do not let me forget that all is sent down from Thee.
Grant that I may deal straightforwardly and wisely with every member of my family, neither embarrassing nor saddening anyone.
O Lord, grant me the strength to endure the fatigue of the coming day and all the events that take place during it. Direct my will and teach me to pray, to believe, to hope, to be patient, to forgive, and to love. Amen.
I first encountered this prayer during a very tumultuous period in my life. There were various turmoils, and frightful decisions to be made. The potential consequences of so many things threatened to leave me paralyzed. It was hard just to remember to breathe.
The prayer became of fulcrum of faith, a point at which to meet the day. It was, first of all, a struggle to accept what the prayer itself was suggesting. My mind was stuck in cause-and-effect. “All is sent down from Thee,” seemed unreconcilable with a good God. And yet, something in my gut told me that it was true – gut and head can be very different things.
It would be rather tedious to describe the movements of my heart in that time of troubles. However, I took the prayer as a lodestone and allowed my heart to move in that direction. The strongest images within that process were the story of the Three Young Men in the Fiery Furnace and the story of Joseph in Egypt. In both, terrible things happen (if being sold as a slave or roasted alive in a furnace count). Joseph later says, “You meant it to me for evil, but the Lord meant it to me for good.” The Three Young Men sing perhaps the greatest hymn of praise found in the Scriptures – while the fire roars around them.
In both stories, humility is key.
The Lord who taught us to take no thought for the morrow is the same Lord who was arrested, tortured, and crucified unjustly. It is the same Lord who was vilified and slandered in response to His giving sight to the blind and making the lame to walk. Whatever we may say about the injustice and pain of our own lives, we cannot claim that Christ is a stranger to it. The Incarnation reveals His presence precisely in such places.
And, following His example, we can say, “Whatsoever news may reach me in the course of the day, teach me to accept it with a calm soul and the firm conviction that all is subject to Thy holy Will.”
Our existence and the existence of all things are a work of grace. But the stories that reveal this to us are frequently filled with suffering and sorrow. To confess that “all is subject to Thy holy Will” is also to acknowledge that the will of God takes the shape of Pascha. And in the story of Pascha (as it is relived in our lives) we are characters who take up the Cross.
The mystery of the Cross is expressed in Hebrews:
“…looking to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb. 12:2)
The prayer focuses on what seems mundane: the fatigue of the coming day, the news that may reach me, unexpected occurrences. In my experience, it is just such things that “try men’s souls.” Any of us who have struggled with such things also know the shameful failure involved in “embarrassing and saddening” family members.
The virtue of humility is best captured by our willingness to receive with thanksgiving those things (of whatever size) that come our way. It is the joy of a tree to receive water, sun, the ground beneath its roots. It is our joy to receive even the fatigue of the coming day. In a culture that is utterly fascinated with the abilities of our species to manage and control outcomes, humility is all too rare. In my experience, it is most commonly found among the poor, the sick – in short, all those who know that management and control are not their lot in life. Strangely, they are likely to have more joy than all of the managers in our midst.
Glory to God.
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