Humbled

Friday, Sep. 18, 2015

God has a way of regularly reminding me that I’m not as good as I’d like to think I am. Most recently, I had three such humbling experiences in the same week. I did thank him for pointing out the error of my ways, but I was only able to summon that gratitude after the sting of the rebuke faded, so I can’t really brag on that point.

I honestly do try to be the person Christ calls me to be, but I fail, and fail often. Case in point was at the gym the other night, when a very heavy-set woman took the cardio machine next to me, and my immediate reaction was “I don’t ever want to look like her.” 

The comeuppance for that terribly uncharitable thought arrived immediately. A personal trainer complimented the other woman for exceeding her goal, and the woman replied with justifiable pride, “I haven’t cheated even once!”

I wanted to slink away to the shower because, despite my initial feeling of superiority for being more slender, she had the discipline to stick with her diet and exercise regime, whereas I’d been cheating like crazy but still had the gall to complain that I wasn’t losing weight.    

During the same week, I made a mistake at work that got into print. This always frustrates me, because I read everything at least two times before it goes to press, so when I miss something I feel as though I’ve committed the same error twice, and now once again I had to admit I’m not infallible when it comes to proofing, even though I try to be. 

While all that was going on, I was fighting a long battle with myself to avoid exacting petty revenge in a situation where I felt slighted. It required plenty of prayer as well as the encouragement of some trusted friends to act like a Christian in this instance, even though I knew it was the right thing to do and that, if I didn’t, the shame would long outlast the satisfaction. 

These three incidents were fresh in my mind when I heard the Sept. 11 Gospel reading about removing the beam from my own eye before concerning myself with the splinter in someone else’s.

Before I could feel too bad about myself, I read Pope Francis’ homily on that day, in which he admitted that he, too, is at risk of being a hypocrite. (I do realize he said that he RISKS being a hypocrite, not that he IS one, but somehow it reassures me that if even the Holy Father is in danger of this, I’m not as unredeemable as I sometimes believe.)

To avoid becoming a hypocrite, Pope Francis advised, people must have the courage to acknowledge their own faults before accusing other people. (See the story on p. 4.)

When I read that, I thought, “Wow! I’m courageous!” but then the little voice in my head said, “Keep reading,” which I did. Pope Francis ended his homily by suggesting that people ask the Lord for the grace to follow Jesus’ advice to be generous with forgiveness and mercy.

All my pride at being courageous went out the window, because I realized that in the above-mentioned incident, I want that person to beg my pardon before I even think about granting mercy.  

It is ugly to look in the mirror and see a hypocrite looking back. St. Paul had a warning for people like me: “By your stubbornness and impenitent heart, you are storing up wrath for yourself for the day of wrath …”

I really don’t want to face that wrath, so I’m going to try Pope Francis’ recommendation, and pray for the grace to forgive.