#017 - Adventures in Humility - pt. 1

FEBRUARY 2017 - JULY 2019

My truck has broken down three times in less than a year. I try not to let it get to me. It’s what I get for buying an old toy. The thing is, I bought it at a time when money was pouring into my life. That’s not quite the case at the time of this writing. 

It’s not about me; it’s about God. 

Something I struggle with the most is taking credit for things. We all want to brag about our part in any success, but what in us causes the initial need in the first place? Where should I begin if it is something I need to rectify?

All personal interrogatories should begin with some backstory, but I’m trying not to make this all about me this time. So, let’s play a little word association.

Humility. Besides being an overly churched word, humility begins with self-examination. So, I guess, in a sense, it begins with you as much as it begins with me. It begins with an honest self-assessment of the situation that is you.

Some people have a natural predisposition for humility, much like a person’s proclivity for numbers. It has been said that the more money a person has, the less generous a person tends to become. It reminds me of the teachings from Jesus of the widow and the Pharisees. I will briefly summarize in my own words for those who watched cartoons on Sunday morning. You know, while the rest of us were in church.

During the Roman empire, when giving money to a charitable organization, in this case, the Jewish temple, you would visit the headquarters and loudly (and proudly) throw your donation into a giant metal collection bucket. Think like the Salvation Army Christmas time Santa Claus ringing a bell, but probably gold, big, and more likely to make a raucous sound. I need to mention that coins were pretty much the only form of currency.

The wealthy would come and drop their gold coins into this golden Salvation Army collection bucket and would try to make as much sound as possible. They wanted people to know how generous they were, but then came the widow woman. I’m sure the skilled theologian would go into detail here about what it meant to be a widow in those days. Without a husband, I assume she would find herself in unfortunate situations, like Fantine in Les Miserables mixed with the old bird lady from the film Mary Poppins.

If a tree falls and no one is around...

So this tired, broken, poor old woman walks over to this magnificent Salvation Army bucket guarded by a Santa, a bucket that perhaps makes her eyes water at its sheen and drops her offering in—an offering that does not even make a sound. Jesus then makes an impactful statement like he’s famously known for doing. 

43... “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. 44 For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”  (Mark 12:43-44 ESV)

The old widow’s offering was an obedient and humble act of generosity, one that Jesus felt like pointing out. 

I always tip graciously. If the need is greater, I will give my last five dollars to someone. One is an act of service, while the other is merely flippant generosity. Harsh as it may seem to be humble, you must also be generous. 

When I  pray, I  pray that God will provide me with awesome people in my life. I know if I follow Jesus’ lead, everything else will fall in line. This is one of the most important messages of his ministry. It is placed in the same chapter as the greatest commandment, something that I believe is no coincidence. I came to this conclusion only as I was writing this! 

To follow the greatest commandment, we must learn how to give to others in a humble and guilt-free way. I add guilt-free because to ask for in return a gift or something of a similar sacrifice defeats the point. That’s a fancy way of saying give without expectation of return. It all goes back to the attitude of humility. 

But now, there is a break from the philosophical teachings of Christianity's central character and a relevant story in its place.

The Southern gentleman’s unspoken agreement

My roommate and I have a long history of friendship. When I was in high school, I befriended his girlfriend, and the first time we met, we became instant friends. He has taught me a lot about life and also serves as a measuring stick of my personal humility. One of his better character traits is pointing out when I’m letting my ego get the best of me. I hate to think he finds joy in doing so. In actuality, it is annoying to him.

We sometimes fight over petty things, like good friends often do, admittedly when I feel angsty and instigating. Also, we have always taken care of one another for some reason. Some days, we have collectively piled our money together to get a couple of cheeseburgers from McDonald's. Money is loose between us. There have been times when I have been unemployed, and he has supported me, and the reverse. It is a basic Southern gentlemen’s agreement. You take care of those who care about you.    

This story is about a recent fight over money, for I felt he wasn’t actively paying me back. After a period of unemployment, he had recently obtained a steady job and was back to making money again. One morning, he called me out for something egotistical that I had said. For revenge, I compiled his recent unemployment expenses, which ended up being a rather large amount. 

The fight came about when, for the first time, I pointed out how expensive it can be to take care of another person. This made him feel guilty, for though he hadn’t expressed it, he had felt guilt for not paying me back as quickly as it seemed I demanded. 

I stopped the fight immediately after realizing I was not empathetic to his situation. Since then, he has bought almost all of my meals and groceries to begin paying me back. Though I felt guilty for feeling I coerced the result out of him, I cannot expect another person to act exactly as I do. This is the ultimate gentleman’s agreement, one immortalized by Harper Lee in To Kill a Mockingbird, one based on the biblical concept of the golden rule.

Mockingbirds, crokersacks, and other Southern-sounding words.

The protagonist in To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus, agrees to defend a poor southern farmer pro bono. In return, he receives anonymous presents over the course of a week or two. When Scout (his daughter) questions his father about the gifts, he gives her a lesson in humility. The conversation is a perfect example, so allow me to expand.

It is found in chapter two of the book, which begins with Scout talking to a new teacher in the town named Miss Caroline, who is confused about a boy in the class. This boy is named Walter, and as Scout youthfully states, 

“Walter’s one of the Cunninghams, Miss Caroline.” (Lee. 1988)

It shows the ability of children to telegraph parental notions. Scout knows what makes a Cunningham different from her own family, but she admittedly was ignorant of why until the previous winter. When Atticus defends one of the Cunninghams (Walter’s father), she discovers that Walter’s family is incredibly poor. When Mr. Cunningham questions if he will ever be able to pay Atticus back, Atticus responds, 

“Let that be the least of your worries, Walter” (Lee. 1988)

This is the Southern gentleman’s agreement. Harper Lee makes a couple of supporting statements in the following conversation between Atticus and his daughter Scout:

I asked Atticus if Mr. Cunningham would ever pay us. 

“Not in money,” Atticus said, “but before the year’s out I’ll have been paid. You watch.”

We watched. One morning Jem and I found a load of stovewood in the back yard. Later, a sack of hickory nuts appeared on the back steps. With Christmas came a crate of smilax and holly. That spring when we found a crokersack full of turnip greens, Atticus said Mr. Cunningham had more than paid him.  (Lee. 1988)

Putting it together.

Harper Lee explains the basic gentleman’s agreement, an unspoken rule in all my close personal relationships. The first time I read To Kill a Mockingbird, this passage always seemed to stick with me. The conversation that Atticus and Scout have afterward shaped her perspective on life and the lives of those around her.

“Why does he pay you like that?” I asked.

“Because that’s the only way he can pay me. He has no money.”

“Are we poor, Atticus?” 

Atticus nodded. “We are indeed.”

Jem’s nose wrinkled. “Are we as poor as the Cunninghams?”

“Not exactly. The Cunninghams are country folks, farmers, and the crash hit them hardest.” (Lee. 1988)

Even though the Cunninghams couldn’t pay in cash, an easy concept for a child to grasp, they paid out of their wealth of commodities. Like the old widow in Mark, the Cunninghams had truly given the most, all this in Atticus’ statement:

Atticus said Mr. Cunningham had more than paid him.  (Lee. 1988)

Two examples of abject generosity from an attitude of humility. Both characters gain this respect because sometimes it takes a life-shattering event to place their and our lives in the proper perspective. Both of these examples illustrate this. 

When everything's said and done, and my roommate and I are making money again, we will look back and see how childish fighting over it can be. In 2024, at the time of this publishing, I can confirm this is the case.