The laden branch

If meekness is the dawn, humility is the sun. John Climacus admits that it is hard to speak about, as hard as explaining in words the taste of honey to someone who has never tried it. So he recounts a council of fathers, each giving his own definition. For one, humility is forgetting your own virtues. For another, knowing your own weakness. For a third, it is to forestall your neighbour when he grows angry and be the first to end the quarrel. John himself concludes that humility is a nameless grace, known only to the one who has experienced it.

He also gives a measure to apply to yourself. The first man exalts himself and spends the whole day judging others. The second does not exalt himself and does not judge others, but does not judge himself either. The third, though innocent, always blames himself. Everyone knows where he stands.

Today a lack of humility shows itself when you say you are a sinner, but cannot bear it when someone else says so. You enjoy praise and wait for it. You like comparing yourself with others, and usually come out better. And you find it hard to learn from the young and from those you consider lesser.

Of all the definitions, John’s most practical is the one about quarrels. When you see someone growing angry with you, be the first to say “sorry” or to offer peace, whoever is at fault. When someone humiliates you, do not defend yourself, but tell yourself: I need this. Every day find, for one person, in what way he is better than you. Thank those who have pointed out your faults, because, John says, no one sees his own wounds as clearly as his neighbour does. John also tells of an ascetic who wrote the names of the highest virtues on his wall, perfect love, pure prayer, complete humility, and when his thoughts praised him he would go to the wall and say to himself: when you have gained all this, know that you are still far away.

Humility is also learned with the hands. Christ, John says, knowing that the soul is shaped by outward conduct, took a towel and washed the disciples’ feet. Service is not an ornament of humility, but its school.

Branches reach upwards when they bear no fruit, and bend down when they carry it.

There are three traps. Humility in words: speaking badly of yourself is not humility; the humble man is the one who bears an insult from another. Pleasure at praise: whoever claims to have humility, yet feels even the slightest joy when praised, is deluded. And authority. John recalls that authority was the occasion of pride even for an angel. Whoever has authority, as a parent or a superior, needs humility most of all right there.

The sign that you have climbed: you no longer sin deliberately, your heart does not judge the sins of others, and prayer is not a burden to you.

The question remains: how does a humble man know what is right, when he no longer trusts only himself?

N. Ž.