Fr. Ron once offered a definition of humility that has stayed with me: “Humility is not thinking less of yourself; rather, it is thinking of yourself less.”
In today’s world, it is easy to become immersed in the rat race of achieving and constantly pushing forward. Most people I know are going full speed ahead, and I often feel the same way. When we maintain this singular focus, it becomes easy to forget to slow down and “smell the roses.” Yet it is in our shared love for humanity that the true beauty of living is found.
Over the summer, I was riding my bike and decided to take a break along the side of the road. I was pouring sweat and trying to catch my breath when an older man, perhaps in his eighties or nineties, pulled his truck over, rolled down his window, and simply asked, “Are you okay?” It may not have seemed like much, but I was uplifted all day by the thought of a complete stranger taking a moment to check on another human being. That is what thinking less about yourself looks like.
A second instance occurred the week after Thanksgiving. This story may sound familiar, as I shared it previously in an INSPO article during Advent, but it is worth repeating. I was driving through a heavy snowstorm, taking my daughter back to a friend’s house so she could return to college. The roads had not been plowed, and the snow continued to fall. My car, which is normally reliable in winter conditions, could not manage a snow-covered incline. As I sat there, stuck and unsure of what to do, I noticed a young man using a tow rope to pull another vehicle up the hill. He held up a finger, signaling that he would be right back, and sure enough, he returned a few minutes later to help me.
When he stepped out of his truck, I noticed that he was wearing a shirt and tie underneath his overalls and jacket. With a smile, he explained that his wife teases him for always keeping towing supplies in his truck and that he was dressed up because he was on his way to church. This young man spent nearly twenty minutes helping me get unstuck. His hands grew cold, his knuckles were scraped and bloodied, yet he stayed until the job was finished. When I tried to offer him money, he refused, saying his wife would “kill him” if he accepted it. I suggested he place it in the collection basket at church, but he declined again, simply wishing me a great day before heading off. This, too, is what thinking less about yourself looks like.
At the parish level, I am continually amazed by the many individuals who give their time each week to bring the Eucharist to the homebound. This is not a transaction; it is a willingness to set aside one’s own needs to serve those who cannot serve themselves. It is the willingness to bring the most sacred gift of our faith to another person, made possible by a profoundly humble and beautiful ministry.
If we want our lives to be defined by humility, we must think less of ourselves and more of others. When we do, we will find the time and the opportunity to make someone else’s day. So, the question becomes: Where will I make a humble choice today?
