On Humility (A Conversation Between an Elder and His Disciple) (Part 1)

Disciple. What is humility?

Elder. It is a Gospel virtue that unites the powers of man into one by the peace of Christ—a virtue surpassing all human comprehension.

Disciple. If it surpasses comprehension, how do we know of its existence? And still more, how can we acquire a virtue we cannot even comprehend?

Elder. We learn of its existence through faith, by means of the Gospel; and the virtue itself we come to know experientially, to the degree that we acquire it. But even after acquiring it, it remains beyond comprehension.

Disciple. Why is that?

Elder. Because it is Divine. Humility is the teaching of Christ, the property of Christ, the action of Christ. The words of the Saviour, “Learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart” (Mt 11:29), the holy John of the Ladder explains thus: “Learn not from an Angel, not from a man, not from a book, but from ‘Me’—that is, from My assimilation to you, My illumination and operation within you—‘for I am gentle and humble in heart’, and in thought and in manner of thinking.” How then can we comprehend the properties and operations of Christ? They are incomprehensible even when they are felt, just as the Apostle said:[1] “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil 4:7). The peace of God is both the beginning and the direct consequence of humility; it is the action of humility and the cause of that action. It acts upon the mind and heart with almighty Divine power. Both the power and its action are by nature incomprehensible.

Disciple. By what means can one attain to humility?

Elder. By fulfilling the Gospel commandments, and above all through prayer. The gracious action of humility is very similar to the gracious action of prayer; or more precisely: it is one and the same action.

Disciple. Do not refuse to expound both means of acquiring humility in greater detail.

Elder. Both are set forth in the teaching of the holy Fathers. The holy John of the Ladder says that only those led by the Spirit of God can speak satisfactorily about humility, and the holy Isaac the Syrian says that the Holy Spirit teaches humility mystically to the man who has prepared himself for such teaching.[2][3] We, gathering the crumbs that fall from the spiritual table of our masters—the holy Fathers—have received a most meager notion of humility;[4] we ourselves endeavor to hold to it, and to pass it on to those who ask, as the precious tradition of the Fathers. One may with full justice call the notions about humility that we have received mere crumbs: the treasure itself, in its inexhaustible fullness, belongs to him who has acquired Christ within himself.

The Venerable Abba Dorotheus says that “humility is naturally formed in the soul through activity according to the Gospel commandments… What happens here is the same as with learning sciences and the art of medicine. When a man has learned them well and practices them, then, little by little, through practice, the scholar or physician acquires a habit; yet he cannot say or explain how he arrived at it, for the soul received it little by little through practice. The same thing is accomplished in the acquisition of humility:[5] from the doing of the commandments a certain humble habit is formed, which cannot be explained in words.” From this teaching of the Venerable Abba Dorotheus it is evident that he who wishes to acquire humility must study the Gospel with diligence, and with the same diligence fulfill all the commandments of our Lord Jesus Christ. The practitioner of the Gospel commandments may come to a knowledge of his own sinfulness and the sinfulness of all mankind, and finally to an awareness and conviction that he is the most sinful and the worst of all men.

Disciple. It seems incongruous to me that one who fulfills the Gospel commandments with all diligence should arrive at the recognition that he is the greatest of sinners. One would expect the contrary. Whoever unceasingly performs virtues, and performs them with special zeal, cannot fail to see himself as virtuous.

Elder. The latter refers to those who do a supposed good “out of themselves”, out of their own fallen nature.[6] He who does such good according to his own understanding, following the inclinations and promptings of his own heart, cannot fail to see this good, cannot help but be satisfied and delighted with it; he takes personal pride in it and is gratified by human praise; he seeks and demands it; he grows angry and hostile toward those who withhold praise. He counts his good deeds, and from their number forms an opinion of himself, and from his opinion of himself forms an opinion of his neighbors—as the Pharisee mentioned in the Gospel did.[7] This kind of activity leads to an opinion of one’s own righteousness, forming righteous men who are rejected by the Lord and who reject the Lord, or who confess Him only superficially and coldly with a dead confession (Mt 9:13). Opposite consequences follow from the fulfillment of the Gospel commandments. The ascetic, as soon as he begins to fulfill them, sees that he fulfills them very inadequately and impurely, that he is swept along hourly by his own passions—that is, by a corrupted will—toward activities forbidden by the commandments. Then he clearly discerns that his fallen nature is hostile to the Gospel. Intensified activity according to the Gospel reveals to him ever more plainly the insufficiency of his good deeds, the multitude of his deviations and failures, the wretched state of the fallen nature estranged from God, which has acquired a disposition of hostility toward God. Looking back on his past life, he sees it as an unbroken chain of sins, falls, and actions that provoke God, and from the sincerity of his heart acknowledges himself to be the greatest sinner, deserving both temporal and eternal punishment, wholly in need of a Redeemer, in whom alone he places his hope of salvation. Such an opinion of himself forms in him imperceptibly through the doing of the commandments. It can be affirmed with certainty that whoever is guided in his life by the Gospel will not hesitate to bear full witness that he knows of not a single good deed in himself.[8] His fulfillment of the commandments he regards as their distortion and defilement, as the holy Peter of Damascus says.[9] “Teach me to do Your will” (Ps 142:10), he cries with weeping to God—that will which You have commanded me to do, which I strive to do, but cannot, because my fallen nature does not understand it and does not submit to it. All my efforts have been and will be in vain, unless You stretch out Your hand to help me. “Your good Spirit”, He alone, “will lead me onto level ground.”[10] “Nothing good can be either believed or done except in Christ Jesus and in the Holy Spirit”—so said the Venerable Mark the Ascetic.[11]

Disciple. Will not such a view of oneself lead to despondency or despair?

Elder. It will lead to Christianity. It was for sinners such as these that the Lord descended to earth, as He Himself declared: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Mt 9:13). Such sinners are those who can receive and confess the Redeemer from the whole soul.

Disciple. Let us grant that activity according to the Gospel commandments leads to the knowledge and acknowledgment of one’s sinfulness; but how is one to reach the point of regarding oneself as more sinful than all other men, among whom there are terrible criminals and evildoers?

Elder. This too is a natural consequence of the ascetic struggle. If two objects are before our eyes, and we examine one of them with all possible attention and without ceasing, while paying no attention to the other, we acquire a clear, detailed, and precise understanding of the first, while remaining with only the most superficial notion of the second. The eyes of the practitioner of the Gospel commandments are constantly fixed on his own sinfulness; with confession of it to God and with weeping, he labors to uncover new wounds and blemishes in himself. Discovering them with God’s help, he strives for yet further discoveries, drawn by the desire for a purity pleasing to God. He does not look upon the sins of his neighbors. If some occasion arises for him to glance at a neighbor’s transgression, that glance is of the most cursory and passing sort, as is usual with people occupied by something important. From his very manner of life there follows naturally and logically the recognition of himself as a sinner among sinners. This is the disposition the holy Fathers require of us.[12] Without such self-regard, the holy Fathers consider the very ascetic struggle of prayer to be wrongly ordered. A brother said to the Venerable Sisoes the Great: “I see that the remembrance of God abides in me unceasingly.” The Venerable replied: “It is no great thing that your thought is with God; the great thing is to see yourself as lower than all creation.” The foundation of prayer is the most profound humility. Prayer is the cry and weeping of humility.[13] When humility is lacking, the ascetic struggle of prayer becomes inclined toward self-deception and the demonic spiritual delusion.

Disciple. By raising the question of how one may advance in humility while advancing in the virtues, I have drawn you away from the orderly sequence of your discourse.

Elder. I return to it. In the aforementioned instruction of the Venerable Abba Dorotheus, a saying is cited from one of the holy elders: that “the path of humility is bodily labors done in understanding.” This counsel is very important for the brethren engaged in various monastic obediences, some of which are burdensome to the body and others involving an interior spiritual struggle. What does it mean “to labor in understanding”? It means to bear monastic labor as a punishment for one’s sinfulness, in the hope of receiving forgiveness from God. What does it mean “to labor thoughtlessly”? — To labor with carnal fervor, with vainglory, with boastfulness, with contempt for other brethren who cannot bear such labor because of weakness or incapacity, or even from sloth. In the latter case, labor, however intense, prolonged, and materially beneficial to the monastery, is not only useless to the soul but actually harmful, since it fills the soul with self-conceit, in the presence of which no virtue can find a place there. An example of “labor in understanding” that raised its practitioner to the height of Christian perfection by lowering him into the depths of humility is seen in the exploit of the blessed Isidore of Alexandria. He was one of the dignitaries of Alexandria. Called by God’s mercy to the monastic life, Isidore entered a monastic community not far from Alexandria and surrendered himself in unconditional obedience to the abbot of the community, a man filled with the Holy Spirit. The abbot, perceiving that from the height of rank there had formed in Isidore a haughty and harsh disposition, resolved to act against this spiritual malady by imposing an obedience burdensome not so much to the body as to the sick heart. When entering the community, Isidore had declared to the abbot that he surrendered himself to him as iron is given into the hands of a smith. The abbot commanded him to stand and remain constantly at the gates of the monastery, bowing to the feet of every person entering or leaving and saying: “Pray for me, for I am possessed by a demon.” Isidore rendered obedience to the abbot as if to an angel of God. Having spent seven years in this obedience, and foreknowing his end through Divine revelation, Isidore departed this life joyfully. Concerning the state of his soul during the struggle, he confessed to the holy John of the Ladder thus: “At first I thought that I had sold myself for the redemption of my sins, and therefore with the greatest anguish, forcing myself, as if shedding blood, I prostrated myself. After a year had passed, my heart ceased to feel sorrow, awaiting the reward for patience from God Himself. After yet another year had passed, from the awareness of my heart I accounted myself unworthy even of abiding in the monastery, of beholding the Fathers, of conversing with them, of meeting with them, and of receiving the Holy Mysteries; but, having cast my eyes down and my manner of thought still lower, I already sincerely besought the prayer of those entering and departing.” This is bodily labor and obedience pursued in understanding! This is their fruit![14] One humble thought handed the blessed practitioner over to another, yet deeper, as if nurturing him, until he entered into the richest and most mysterious perception of humility. By this holy perception heaven was opened to the holy Isidore, as to a living temple of God. “Humility makes man a dwelling-place of God,” said the Great Barsanuphius.[15]

The Venerable Abba Dorotheus, at the beginning of his instruction on humility, lays down as a cornerstone in the foundation of the edifice the following saying of one of the holy elders: “Above all things we need humble-mindedness, and we must be ready to say ‘forgive me’ in answer to every word we hear; for humble-mindedness shatters all the arrows of the enemy and adversary.” In the renunciation of self-justification, in self-accusation and in asking forgiveness on all those occasions on which ordinary worldly life employs justifications and multiplies them, there lies a great and mysterious acquisition of holy humility.[16] All the holy Fathers adhered to it and bequeathed it. This practice may appear strange at a superficial glance; but experience itself will not delay in proving that it is full of benefit for the soul and flows from the Self-Truth, Christ. Our Lord rejected self-justification, not employing it before men, though He could have manifested His Divine righteousness before them in all its grandeur; and He said to the Pharisees: “You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts; for what is exalted among men is an abomination before God” (Lk 16:15). “Behold My servant”, the prophet of the Old Testament proclaims concerning the Lord, “whom I have chosen; My beloved, in whom My soul is well pleased. I will put My Spirit upon Him, and He will proclaim justice to the nations; He will not quarrel or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets” (Mt 12:18–19; Is 42:1–2). “Christ suffered for us”, the Apostle of the New Testament witnesses to the exact fulfillment of the prophecy, “leaving us an example, that we should follow in His steps; when He was reviled, He did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but continued entrusting Himself to the One who judges justly” (1 Pet 2:21, 23). Therefore, if we, guilty of countless sins, have come to the monastery to endure crucifixion for our sins at the right hand of our Saviour, let us acknowledge betimes every affliction that befalls us as a just recompense and rightful punishment for our sins. With such a disposition, asking forgiveness on every occasion that presents itself will be a correct and logical action.[17] “Self-justification does not belong to the Christian life,” said the holy Isaac the Syrian. The Venerable Pimen the Great used to say: “We fall into many temptations because we do not maintain the order befitting our name. Do we not see that the Canaanite woman accepted the name given her and the Saviour consoled her (Mt 15:27 and following)? Likewise Abigail said to David: ‘Upon me be my sin’ (1 Sam 25:24), and David, hearing this, loved her. Abigail is an image of the soul, and David is an image of God: if the soul accuses herself before the Lord, the Lord will love her.” They asked the Great man what “what is exalted” (Lk 16:15) means. He answered: “Self-justifications. Do not justify yourself, and you will find rest.” He who does not justify himself is guided by humble-mindedness; he who does justify himself is guided by proud-mindedness.[13] Theophilus, Patriarch of Alexandria, once visited the Nitrian mountain. That mountain was the dwelling-place of a numerous monastic community living the life of those given to stillness. The abbot of the mountain was a man of great holiness. The Archbishop asked him: “What, Father, in your opinion, is of greatest importance on the monastic path?” The abbot replied: “Constant self-accusation and self-condemnation.” The Archbishop responded: “Indeed! There is no other path besides this.”[18]

I will conclude my poor teaching on humility with the beautiful teaching of the Venerable John the Prophet on this virtue. “Humility consists in not reckoning oneself as anything in any circumstances, in cutting off one’s will in all things, in submitting to all, and in bearing without agitation whatever befalls us from without. This is true humility, in which vainglory finds no place. The humble-minded person must not display his humility through ‘humble-talk,’ but it suffices for him to say ‘forgive me’ or ‘pray for me.’ Neither should he of his own accord volunteer for the performance of lowly tasks: this, like the first (that is, humble-talk), leads to vainglory, hinders progress, and does more harm than good; but when commanded to do something, not to contradict but to fulfill it in obedience—this leads to progress.”[19]

Disciple. Can the use of humble words—called humble-talk—really be harmful to the soul? It seems very fitting for a monk, and very edifying to worldly people, who are moved to compunction on hearing a monk’s humble-talk.

Elder. The Lord said: “What does it profit a man, if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” (Mt 16:26). Evil can in no way be the cause of good. Hypocrisy and people-pleasing cannot be the cause of edification: they may please the world, for they have always pleased it; they may provoke the world’s praise, for they have always provoked it; they may attract the world’s love and trust, for they have always attracted them. The world loves what is its own; it praises those in whom it hears its own spirit (Jn 15:18–20). The world’s approval of humble-talk is already its condemnation. The Lord commanded that all virtues be performed in secret (Mt 6), whereas humble-talk is the outward display of humility for men to see. It is pretense, deception—first of oneself, then of others—because the concealment of one’s virtues is one of the properties of humility, and humble-talk and the outward show of humility destroy precisely this concealment. “While living among your brethren,” says the holy John of the Ladder, “take heed that you do not in any way appear more righteous than they in anything. Otherwise you will do a double wrong: you will wound the brethren by your hypocrisy and pretense, and you will inevitably produce proud-mindedness in yourself. Be diligent in soul, without displaying this at all outwardly—not by appearance, nor by word, nor by hint.” As much as it is beneficial to reproach and accuse oneself of sinfulness before God, in the secret of the inner chamber of the soul, so much is it harmful to do this before men. In the contrary case we shall be arousing in ourselves a deceptive opinion that we are humble, and conveying such a notion of ourselves to the spiritually blind laity. A certain monk told me that in his early monastic days he endeavored to practice humble-talk, supposing—out of ignorance—that there was something especially important in it.[20] Once he was speaking in humble-talk, and so successfully that those hearing him, instead of declaring his words to be lies and himself to be humble—which is always the aim of humble-talk—agreed that he was speaking the truth; at which he was grieved and fell into displeasure. Before men one must conduct oneself carefully and reverently, but simply—responding to praise with silence, likewise to reproach, except in those cases where asking forgiveness and, if needed, a moderate explanation may calm and reconcile the person offering criticism. Those advanced in monastic life acquire a particular freedom and simplicity of heart, which cannot but manifest itself in their dealings with their neighbors. These qualities do not please the world! It considers them proud, as the holy Symeon the New Theologian very rightly observes. The world seeks flattery, yet in them it sees sincerity, which is of no use to the world, and meets with reproof, which is hateful to it. During my sojourn in a large city, an elder who was greatly advanced in the spiritual life came there on monastery business with his novice disciple. Certain devout laypeople wished to see the elder.[21] He did not please them. They were very pleased with the disciple, who, on entering wealthy and distinguished homes, was struck by worldly grandeur and bowed low to everyone. “How humble he is!” the laypeople said with particular pleasure, a pleasure born in them by the bows. The elder had spent his life in weeping over his sinfulness; he considered the greatest happiness of man to be the discovery in himself of sinfulness, and with sincere love and compassion for poor humanity—equally poor both in palace and in hut—with simplicity of heart, with a remarkable perspicacity born of equal purity of mind, he desired to share spiritual treasures with those who asked him about salvation: and by this he aroused their displeasure.

Disciple. What is the difference between humble-mindedness and humility?

Elder. “Humble-mindedness” is a manner of thought drawn wholly from the Gospel, from Christ. “Humility” is a feeling of the heart, a gift of the heart, corresponding to humble-mindedness. One must first accustom oneself to humble-mindedness; to the degree that one exercises oneself in humble-mindedness, the soul acquires humility, for the state of the heart always depends on the thoughts that have been appropriated by the mind. But when a person’s work is overshadowed by Divine grace, then humble-mindedness and humility will begin abundantly to beget and to multiply each other, with the help of their co-worker in prayer—weeping.

Disciple. Explain by examples how humility is born of humble-mindedness and vice versa.

Elder. I had a monk with whom I was on close terms, who was subject unceasingly to various afflictions by which, as he said, it pleased God to replace a spiritual elder for him. Despite constant afflictions, I saw the monk almost always calm, and often joyful. He occupied himself with the Word of God and with mental prayer. I asked him to reveal to me, for the benefit of my soul, where he drew his consolation. He replied: I owe my consolation to God’s mercy and to the writings of the holy Fathers, toward which I have been given a love from childhood. When afflictions descend upon me, I sometimes repeat the words of the thief who confessed from his cross the righteousness of the divine judgment in the human sentence, and by that confession entered into the knowledge of the Saviour. I say: “I am receiving what my deeds deserve;… remember me, Lord, in Your kingdom” (Lk 23:41–42). With these words, peace and calm pour into the heart. At other times I set against thoughts of grief and agitation the words of the Saviour: “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after Me is not worthy of Me” (Mt 10:38); then agitation and grief are replaced by peace and joy. Other similar sayings of Holy Scripture and of the holy Fathers produce the same effect. The words repeated: “Glory to God for all things” or “may the will of God be done” act with complete sufficiency against even very complex afflictions. A strange thing! Sometimes, under the powerful action of affliction, all the soul’s strength is lost; the soul grows as it were deaf, losing the capacity to feel anything; then I begin to pronounce aloud, forcibly and mechanically, with the tongue alone, “Glory to God,” and the soul, hearing the glorifying of God, begins as it were to revive little by little at that glorifying, then takes courage, grows calm, and is consoled. Those upon whom afflictions are permitted would not be able to stand firm in them, were they not secretly sustained by God’s help and grace. Again: without affliction a man is not capable of that mysterious yet at the same time substantial consolation which is given him in proportion to his affliction, as the Psalmist also said: “According to the multitude of my sorrows within my heart, Your consolations have gladdened my soul” (Ps 93:19). Once a dangerous snare was laid against me. Learning of it, and having no means of averting it, I felt grief to the point of exhaustion. I went to my cell, and as soon as I pronounced the words of the Saviour that came to mind—“Let not your heart be troubled: believe in God, and believe also in Me” (Jn 14:1)—the grief vanished; in its place an inexpressible joy encompassed me, and I had to lie down on my bed, and all day long I was as if intoxicated, while in my mind the words kept repeating, pouring consolation into my soul: “believe in God, and believe also in Me.” The cause of the heart’s agitation is unbelief; the cause of the heart’s calm, of the heart’s gracious peace, is faith. When faith acts abundantly, the whole being of man is plunged into a spiritually most consoling enjoyment of the sacred peace of Christ, as if permeated and filled to overflowing with this feeling. Intoxicated by it, the being becomes insensible to the arrows of agitation. The Fathers rightly said that “faith is humility”, that “to believe means to abide in humility and goodness.” Such a conception of faith and humility is granted by the holy experiences of a rightly ordered monastic life.[22][23]