by Robert F. Tredray

Repeatedly, the Scriptures assure us that God will exalt the humble. St. James says, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and God will lift you up.” St. Peter says, “humble yourselves, therefore ... that God may lift you up in due time.” But if we “humble ourselves” in order to be lifted up, is that really humility at all? Is it not rather a subtle form of arrogance?

Perhaps I am imagining a difficulty where none exists, but I think this is a real danger. I doubt that we can be humble if our attention is fixed on the expectation of future exaltation. I would ask, “What does it mean to 'humble oneself'?” Is that something we can do, an action we can take? I think not. Isaiah says that the Lord “looks with favor” on “those who are humble and contrite in spirit.” And Jesus says, “I am gentle and humble in heart” [emphases added].

So I think that humility is an attitude, not a behavior; it is not an action, but a state of being. If so, then following a set of rules—St. Benedict's or anyone else's—is not in itself humility. What matters is where we focus our attention; it must not be focused on ourselves. Following the rule (or any other behavior) may be conducive to the development of a humble state of mind—or, better, of heart. In the same way, Centering Prayer is not in itself Contemplation, but may be conducive to the contemplative state. The author of The Cloud of Unknowing tells us that Contemplation can only be had by means of Grace. Can we say the same of humility? And can we not go further, and say that neither humility nor contemplation is Salvation, but both may be conducive to our receiving Salvation by Grace?

by Jody Johnson

"God comes to us disguised as our lives." –Richard Rohr

Just as thoughts must be released not once, but over and over again during contemplative prayer, so our human weaknesses and flaws must be recognized, acknowledged, and surrendered again and again in our daily lives. Perhaps this is why Jesus does not say, "Lay down your cross and follow me," but "Take up your cross and follow me." The Christian path of self-renunciation and deepening interdependence with God and others is a lifelong journey. Francis de Sales knew this and counseled Jane de Chantal, against her will, to return to and embrace the circumstances of her own life. Seeking visions and "ecstasies," Jane wanted to disappear into God, but Francis proposed instead an "ecstasy of love" lived out in humble service to others. Otherwise, her faith would remain a mere abstraction or sentiment.

"In our vulnerability we break open the compassionate heart of God in others and for others." –Jody Johnson

I encounter the limits of my solitude in an unexpected way in my own particular circumstances. I've moved to an urban monastery in Phoenix, much like our own Visitation Monastery, to continue my retreat. The vibrant community life hums all around, complete with its shadow economy: an impromptu barbershop is set up on the patio of my retreat house; a neighborhood 'restaurant' springs up in someone's garage on weekends and vanishes by Monday.

My retreat house sits at a distance from the main house. I am alone, by design, and during the day the solitude is nourishing. But as darkness sets in on my first night, I feel afraid. I try to recall the day’s scenes that bespeak a tight-knit and safe community, but it is not enough. I pick up the phone and call the main house. Sister Lydia answers. I explain what is happening and ask if I can spend the night there. "Sure, come right over," she says. Still, I feel weak and stupid, lacking in faith. If Jane’s spiritual challenge was her strong will, mine is pride, a close cousin. I gather my things, walk to the house, and sheepishly ring the doorbell. I’m greeted with a warm "Come right in; I'll show you to your room." No questions asked. This simple act of hospitality is laden with compassion and mercy, and I see clearly in this moment that I am called to do the same for others.

In our vulnerability we break open the compassionate heart of God in others and for others. Giving and receiving become one as part of God’s lived life in the world. Echoing Francis de Sales’ thoughts almost four centuries later, Thomas Keating says, "A new asceticism for people of good will might be the practice of goodness; that is, just being good to everybody." I am ready to return home, to my life.

Live Jesus. Love now.

Jody Johnson is an oblate and formation director at Visitation Monastery in Minneapolis. She wrote her "In The Desert" series while on a two week study and prayer sabbatical. Jody also teaches contemplative practice and spiritual formation at United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities. This article is cross-posted from Jody's blog, with her permission.

One gift Sister Mary gave to us at the fall retreat at Villa Maria was a simple practice to help us be grounded in the present. This practice is so simple and enjoyable that I find myself doing it just for fun. I refer to it as "Be Present: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."  Here's how it goes:

Take a deep breath and let it out.
Then notice 5 things you can SEE.
Next notice 4 things you can FEEL
Now notice 3 things you can HEAR.
Next notice 2 things you can SMELL.
Finally notice 1 thing you can TASTE.

That’s all there is to it—but doing it grounds me in the present, and allows me to be ready and open for what this moment brings. Try it and have FUN!