Humility and Truth

Anglican Theological Review, Spring 2006 by McCloskey, Deirdre

The virtue of humility asks that we listen to the witness of God in every person. Nowadays humility is often confused with the sin of self-abnegation, the abuse of God's gift of life. And it is contrasted unfavorably with the sin of pride, taken in Romantic theory to be a virtue. In science and scholarship-for example in the science of economics-humility is necessary for excellence. But it is rarely practiced, and stands out when it is. Oddly, a "conservative" species of economics, so-called "Austrian" economics, recommends that we see successful businesspeople as simultaneously humble and great-souled, in balance. Romantic Pride, as in Milton's Lucifer, persists in the idol-worshiping of modern atheists. As the self-fagellating nun is proud she is not proud, the modern secularist is proud that he is not humble before God. Both are mistaken.

I cannot conceive the necessity for God to love inc. . . . But I can easily imagine that he loves that perspective of creation which can only be seen from the point where I am. ... I must withdraw so that he may see it.

Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace1

According to one standard English translation of Aquinass Swnma Theologiac, the humble person "in respect of that which is his own ought to subject himself to every neighbor, in respect of that which the latter has of God's."2 The sentence is not any clearer in the Latin, but seems in context to mean merely this: we should respect in other people what God, after all, has created. To scorn listening to others is to commit the chief theological sin against the Holy Spirit, pride. The sparks of perfection in people should be esteemed, "that we may know the things that are given to us by God," as Paul put it.3 Or, as Augustine wrote, also quoted approvingly by Aquinas, "We must not esteem by pretending to esteem, but should really think it possible for another person to have something that is hidden to us and whereby he is better than we are." And so too the founding Quaker, George Fox, who urged us to listen quietly and "answer the witness of God in every man, whether they are the heathen ... or ... do profess Christ."4 Or Father Peter Maurin, described by Dorothy Day after his death in 1949 as "truly humble of heart, and loving. . . . He . . . saw all others around him as God saw them. In other words, he saw Christ in them."5 Or Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in 2002, since the point is not merely Christian: "Truth on the ground is multiple, partial. . . . Each person, culture and language has part of it. ... The [Jewish] sages said, 'Who is wise? One who learns from all men.'"6

Humility enjoins listening for the sake of God's message within others. Shut up and learn something. The Wisdom books of the Hebrew Bible are full of such advice, as in the proverbs of Solomon: "Wise men lay up knowledge, but the babbling of a fool brings ruin near" (Prov. 10:14, RSV); "He who belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent" (11:12); "If one gives answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame" (18:13). Or Jesus son of Sirach: "The tongue of man is his fall. . . . But if thou love to hear, thou shalt receive understanding" (Eccles. 5:13, 6:33, KJV). "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking," says the Scarecrow in the movie of The Wizard of Oz. Harry Truman defined an expert as "someone who doesn't want to learn anything new, because then he wouldn't be an expert." Such pride is the opposite of humility, the humility to listen and learn. The philosopher Amélie Oksenberg Rorty once described this habit of intellectual humility, rare among academics and politicians eager to speak and reluctant to listen. What is crucial is:

our ability to engage in continuous conversation, testing one another, discovering our hidden presumptions, changing our minds because we have listened to the voices of our fellows. Lunatics also change their minds, but their minds change with the tides of the moon and not because they have listened, really listened, to their friends' questions and objections.7

Humility is part of the cardinal virtue of temperance, which in turn is the internal balance essential for a good life. Humility, said Aquinas, answers among the Christian virtues to the pagan virtue of great-souledness, which Aristotle the pagan teacher of aristocrats admired so much. To be bumble is to temper one's passions in pursuing (as Aquinas put it) boni arclui, goods difficult of achievement. To be great-souled, which in turn is part of the cardinal virtue of courage, is to keep working towards such goods nonetheless.8

We evidently need both humility and great-souledness. Think of the balance of hope and temperance, and in particular the balance or great-souledness and humility, necessary to sustain good work in science and scholarship: in the church or in the marketplace; in sports or crafts; or in any difficult good. On the one side we need to follow the motto I learned from my high school driving instructor: intendete alte in gubernatione, "aim high in steering." That's the great-souledness, resisting the sin of despair, acedia. But on the other side we need too the skepticism of humility, reading the traffic signs, listening to the hints of the highway, resisting the sin of presumption, superbia. We need to listen, really listen, if we are not to end in foolishness or in the ditch. We need both, I said. Of course.