4 The Moon When the Ducks Come Back
The Moon When the Ducks Come Back
MARCH 26–APRIL 22
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time.
The truly gospel-humble person is not a self-hating person or a self-loving person, but a self-forgetful person.
RESPECT TOWARD ALL BEINGS
The third Lakota virtue is Wawoohola, “respect.” I especially appreciate the teaching about this virtue: “A basic teaching among all tribes was that of respect towards all beings (sentient and insentient) which includes plants, animals, stones, wind, little people, and all of creation. . . . Our Lakota ancestors would ceremonially hunt their bison which would provide clothing, shelter and food for the people. Every part was used and their spirit was honored by placing their skull facing east to meet the rising sun in unison with the rhythm of life.”
How important this virtue is in our day of rampant intolerance. Respect for all who are marginalized, “the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.” Respect even for insentient or inanimate creation. This calls us to a deeply sensitive creation care. This description says it beautifully: “plants, animals, stones, wind, little people, and all of creation.”
I TOO REJOICE
The title for this month draws me in, “The Moon When the Ducks Come Back.” I am intrigued by this focus on ducks. My experience is with the mallard duck though I know there are many other varieties. The mallard male with its iridescent green head, bright yellow bill, and black tail curl is both distinctive and quite beautiful. I enjoy the female too though her mottled brown features keep her more in the background. It makes me smile to observe a mother mallard leading her young of seven or eight through a reedy pond. So, I too rejoice when the ducks come back.
THE CONTRAST IS HUMBLING
Today I walk through a Veterans Memorial Cemetery, which I have passed by numerous times before without ever setting foot inside. It seems like an odd decision for me to turn into a cemetery dedicated to military veterans. I know no one buried here and, besides, my theological convictions incline me toward pacifism.
The decision to turn into the cemetery is simple really. I do not feel up for a hike in the canyon today and I am looking for an alternative that would give me a good walk in the sun before the snowstorm that is predicted for tomorrow arrives.
It is a moving, even humbling, experience to walk among the graves of so many who have served throughout our history, from the Civil War to the present. Yes, I discovered nine graves of Civil War veterans. This surprised me somewhat. Here in Colorado we are far removed from the great sites of the Civil War: Bull Run and Shiloh and Antietam and Vicksburg and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg and more. Plus, judging by eastern standards this is a comparatively new cemetery, being established in 1883 as I remember.
These Civil War graves particularly piqued my interest as I am right now watching the majestic Ken Burns nine-part documentary on the Civil War. Viewing these films for the past month or so I have been repeatedly struck by the contrast between this massive conflagration and my simple task, alone in my study writing on humility. One might say that the contrast is humbling.
MY DESIRES ARE BENT
The church liturgy confesses our “disordered affections.” But this way of expressing it is far too mild, far too respectable for my condition. My affections, my desires are bent . . . warped . . . twisted . . . turned in on myself.
O Lord, please, I ask, straighten out my affections. Turn my desires in a life-giving, Godward direction. Please. Thank you. Amen.
LEAPING FOR JOY
Well, I was wrong when I said the other week that I was having the final fire of the season. Today we have a “cyclone blizzard” upon us . . . so says the meteorologist. Not because of the amount of snow . . . we’ll only get a foot or so. No, it’s the snow combined with the high winds that are blowing the snow horizontally and in wild swirls causing near white-out conditions that makes it a cyclone blizzard. I can see our flocked trees only out about fifty feet. All the schools and most businesses are closed for the day, and the major freeway arteries are now shutting down. Carolynn and I have decided to stay tucked in. A perfect day for another fire!
Something about the fire quiets me. A strong cup of coffee and a crackling fire and I am set. I don’t really read and I don’t really pray . . . at least not in any normal sense. The flames cause a simple meditative mode of sorts. Still. Quiet. Watching the flames swirling up and around kindling and sticks and logs—at times roaring and then a steady burn and in time subsiding to glowing coals. I must say that the logs blazing away is far more entertaining and interesting than television. Plus, the fire has none of those pesky commercials.
Oh, one more thing: if the electricity does go out, the fireplace is our sole source of heat. So, I’ll keep the fire burning—crackling and popping and leaping for joy.
AN ACCURATE ASSESSMENT
I really hate to take issue with one of the great saints of the church, Bernard of Clairvaux. It is his well-known definition of humility that rankles me a bit. He wrote, “Humility is a virtue by which a man has a low opinion of himself because he knows himself well.” The phrase “a low opinion of himself” is what is hard for me to swallow. No doubt I am reacting to the long history of “worm theology” that has done so much damage in our day. And, of course, the modern psychological concern for a healthy self-esteem is an important factor also.
Likely I am not so much taking issue with the good doctor as I am attempting to translate him into our contemporary context. If I can reinterpret just a bit, I think Bernard is trying to get at the importance of our being able to enter into an accurate assessment of who we really are. This is the point of his underscoring the need for us to know ourselves well. I appreciate this phrase. And knowing ourselves well does indeed bring us down close to the earth, humus.
Of course, it is quite arrogant of me to think I can correct one of the most profound Christian thinkers ever. I’ll leave it at that.
LENTEN MEDITATION 5—MY HEART IS SADDENED
In the twentieth century the Lakota Nation began a concerted legal effort to reclaim the Black Hills. One federal judge who reviewed the case in the 1970s noted, “A more ripe and rank case of dishonorable dealing will never, in all probability, be found in our history.” After a century of legal battles the US Supreme Court in a landmark 1980 decision recognized the eight Lakota Nations’ right to the Black Hills as specified in the 1868 treaty. However, rather than ordering the government to return the land, the Lakotas were awarded $105 million for the Black Hills. Despite being among the poorest reservations in the country the Lakotas rejected the payment . . . they wanted their land back. Also, they refused to accept the money on the grounds that one cannot buy and sell sacred land. Johnson Holy Rock, a Lakota elder, writes, “We don’t think of the air and water in terms of dollars and cents.” And Rick Two-Dogs, a Lakota religious leader, explains, “All of our origin stories go back to this place. We have a spiritual connection to the Black Hills that can’t be sold. I don’t think I could face the Creator with an open heart if I ever took money for it.” Today the Lakotas are found mostly in five reservations: Rosebud Indian Reservation, Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, Lower Brulé Indian Reservation, Cheyenne River Indian Reservation, and Standing Rock Indian Reservation.
In the midst of all this tangled history my heart is saddened for the unjust seizure of the Black Hills from the Lakota people. I wish I could dream up ways to rectify the wrongs done. I cannot. I simply stand and weep inwardly.
A WIDE INFLUENCE
Now is a good time for me to interact with two significant pieces of writing on humility that have had a wide influence over the centuries. It is important to work on them together, as one builds on the other. The two pieces I am talking about are The Rule by Benedict of Nursia (sixth century) and The Steps of Humility and Pride by Bernard of Clairvaux (tenth century).
Benedict wrote his rule to bring order and stability to a special problem of that day of roving prophets who had no oversight, no accountability, no stability. I think it would be accurate to say that Benedict’s work and the movement that grew out of it has led to monasticism as we know it today. But it was not easy: the first group Benedict gathered under his leadership attempted to poison him!
The heart of The Rule is 
Bernard of Clairvaux was the key leader of a renewal effort within the Benedictine movement, which eventually led to the founding of the Cistercians, a kind of contemplative branch of the Benedictine order. Bernard is best known for his writings on love, especially On Loving God. But his first piece of writing was a commentary of sorts on Benedict’s “Twelve Steps of Humility.” Bernard didn’t, however, just stick with the subject of humility. Oh, no. He also took up the opposite inclination, what he called, “The Descending Steps of Pride.” In time this writing has become known as The Steps of Humility and Pride. In the next few weeks I’ll see if I can gain some insights into humility and pride from these two works.
A TRULY HELPFUL METAPHOR
In laying out his thoughts on humility Benedict begins by setting before us a truly helpful metaphor (although I find his exegesis of the text rather suspect). Benedict uses the story of Jacob’s dream of a ladder with angels ascending and descending and applies it to humility and pride. Here is how he puts it:
If we want to reach the highest summit of humility . . . then by our ascending actions we must set up that ladder on which Jacob in a dream saw angels descending and ascending (Gen 28:12). Without doubt, this descent and ascent can signify only that we descend by exaltation and ascend by humility. Now the ladder erected is our life on earth, and if we humble our hearts the Lord will raise it to heaven. We may call our body and soul the sides of this ladder, into which our divine vocation has fitted the various steps of humility and discipline as we ascend.
I am well acquainted with the story of Jacob’s ladder. The image has been drilled into my subconscious both from Sunday school teachings on Genesis 28 and from singing the spiritual “We Are Climbing Jacob’s Ladder,” which grew out of the African American slave experience.
The metaphor of a ladder to ascend in our seeking after humility is helpful. Although, since in Jacob’s dream angels were both ascending and descending, the metaphor of descent might fit the idea of humility better. I know, I know, Benedict is using the ascending metaphor in order to capture the image of movement upward to heaven. Still . . .
I’M INTRIGUED BY THE FIRST STEP
Benedict’s first two steps up into humility apply easily to all persons. The first step is for us to keep the fear of God always before our eyes and never forget it (Ps 35:2). The second step is for us to love not our own will nor take pleasure in the satisfaction of personal desires; rather we are to imitate by our actions that saying of the Lord: “I have come . . . not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me” (Jn 6:38).
Beginning with the third step the instructions become specific to the monk entering the monastery. Hence, these steps deal with issues like obedience to the abbot and ways of living in loving submission to one another in the community. To apply these steps to the common person today demands considerable reinterpretation . . . and this is exactly what those who teach Benedictine spirituality do when speaking to the general populace.
But I’m intrigued by the first step into humility (to keep the fear of God always before our eyes and never forget it). What immediately caught my attention is the fact that Benedict expands on this step more than any of the others. Frankly, it’s straightforward enough, not really needing any explanation. Yet Benedict devotes the lion’s share of his attention to it. Why? I’m not sure, I’m just wondering. I’ll sleep on it.
SERVILE FEAR AND FILIAL FEAR
The phrasing of Benedict’s first step does not sit well with us today. We don’t like the language of “the fear of the Lord.” For us it brings to mind images of groveling and unthinking obedience. Just to be clear, I don’t like the phrase. It feels far too negative.
However, Benedict is merely drawing the phrase from the Bible. Just think of Proverbs 9:10,
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,
and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.
I’m actually helped here by the distinction Martin Luther made between what he called a “servile fear” and a “filial fear.” Servile describes fear of being punished for doing something wrong. Filial refers to fear of doing something wrong to, or dishonoring of, a loved one. So, the focus of our “fear” needs to be one of awe and reverence for the greatness and the goodness of God. This is a focus severely lacking in contemporary Christianity. Because God invites us into the personal intimacy of Abba, Father, we can easily corrupt the relationship into something flippant and cavalier. Always, always we are to maintain a healthy reverence and adoration of the One who is Creator and Sustainer of all things. Perhaps this is a good reason to retain the language of “the fear of the Lord.”
UPWARD STEPS AND DOWNWARD STEPS
By writing on both the upward steps of humility and the downward steps of pride Bernard gives us a helpful insight. The upward steps of humility begin with love of God and in the end result in love of our neighbor. In contrast, the downward steps of pride begin with contempt for our neighbor and in the end result in contempt for God.
How does this help me? Well, if I am beginning to feel contempt for my neighbor, say through gossip, then I need to beware that the seeds of pride are being planted in my heart, and that this will eventually lead me to contempt for God. If I want to learn how to love my neighbor, I begin by learning to love God, and in God’s time and in God’s way, this will lead me to love my neighbor.
BEAUTIFUL TEACHING IN HUMILITY
Today is Palm Sunday, which leads us into Holy Week and Resurrection Sunday. Palm Sunday is itself a beautiful teaching in humility. We are all accustomed to children waving palm branches in church services to remind us of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey and the people waving palm branches and shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel!” (Jn 12:13). In Bibles and in church bulletins this is described as “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.” We tend to forget that this scene is in direct contrast to the Roman triumphal entries replete with trumpets and generals on mighty steeds and parades of marching troops. For a modern analogy we might want to think of today’s military parades of tanks and surface-to-air missiles and marching troops.
Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is the exact opposite of these egocentric displays of might and power and domination. No, Jesus’ entry was on a donkey with a spontaneous display of the people’s love and affection for this “man of sorrows.” Not a hint here of the intimidation and oppression so blatant in the kings and emperors of the first century . . . and of our day. This is the humility of Jesus as king . . . a king who would “not break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick” (Mt 12:20; Is 42:3). King Jesus, you see, will never crush the needy nor snuff out the smallest hope.
MY HEART BOWS
In the Christian calendar today is called “Maundy Thursday.” The name is derived from the Latin mandatum, meaning “command” . . . think of the contemporary word mandate. This naming comes from the extended teaching that Jesus gives between two monumental events. Theologians call this teaching “the upper room discourse,” and right at the heart of this teaching Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn 13:34-35). This is the “maundy,” the command for us to love one another. So simple. So profound. So life altering as we learn to live into the command.
The two monumental events that bracket this teaching are Jesus’ washing of the disciples’ feet and his establishing the Lord’s Supper, often called the Eucharist. Both events instruct us in Christian humility.
The disciples had gathered in the upper room for the Passover celebration. Their feet were dry, dusty, cracked. The customary servant who would care for this simple, physical need was absent. So, Jesus steps in and washes their feet. Returning to his seat he says, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example that you also should do as I have done to you” (Jn 13:12-15). Wow! A walking example of stark humility. I am humbled simply by reading the words on the page.
The second event is the Passover feast that Jesus and the Twelve celebrate in the upper room. But now Jesus invests this holy rite with a whole new significance. Ever since the great exodus the Passover was celebrated in memory of the death angel “passing over” the children of Israel when they were bound in Egyptian slavery. But on this night Jesus takes the unleavened bread and after giving thanks he breaks it declaring, “this is my body, that is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” He next takes the cup of wine declaring, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:23-26). My heart bows in thanksgiving and gratitude!
THE GREAT SACRIFICE
On this Friday followers of “the Way” remember the Great Sacrifice, Jesus’ death on the cross. It must stand as the supreme act of humility in all human history.
Jesus’ last words on the cross is the triumphal cry, “It is finished!” This was not simply a declaration that his life was ending. Oh, no. Jesus was announcing to all who had ears to hear that this great work of redemption was finished. Jesus on the cross took into himself all of the sin and rebellion of dark humanity and redeemed it by his blood. All the sorrows throughout all time. All the cries. All the sufferings. All the barbarous cruelty. All the screams. All of it . . . he took it into himself and redeemed it. Hence, the triumphant word, “It is finished.”
It humbles me, this great act of redemption. Words fail me. All I can do is kneel in silent worship and adoration at the foot of the cross.
A MINORITY REPORT
I do want to take strong exception to one matter that both Benedict and Bernard refer to . . . namely the issue of humor. From the language that is used I think we can safely assume that both disapprove of it . . . strongly so. Benedict says, “The tenth step of humility is that he is not given to ready laughter.” And Bernard in his descending steps of pride comments on the danger of laughter: “At times he simply cannot stop laughing or hide his empty-headed merriment. He is like a well-filled bladder that has been pricked and squeezed. The air, not finding a free vent, whistles out through the little hole with squeak after squeak.”
I know, I know, humor can be overdone. Indeed, in certain forms it can be used as a weapon to attack, demean, or destroy. And perhaps both Benedict and Bernard are merely dealing with the ways humor can become a distraction to a focused life with God.
However, I’d like to submit a minority report on behalf of good-hearted laughter. Humor, offered in love, can help build community life. Frankly, an occupational hazard of religious folk is to become stuffy bores. And humor helps to undercut this danger by stoutly refusing to allow us to take ourselves too seriously. It is a grace when we can laugh at our gaffes and foibles. Humor helps us welcome the unexpected and the unpredictable, to relish the ridiculous and the absurd. We don’t need to create a huge chasm between prayer and playfulness.
I rather like the observation of Thomas Kelly when, poking a bit of fun at his own tradition, he wrote, “I’d rather be jolly Saint Francis hymning his canticle to the sun than a dour old sobersides Quaker whose diet would appear to have been spiritual persimmons.” Well, enough said!
I CAN BUT TEACH WHAT I HAVE LEARNED
Bernard had written his book to one “brother Godfrey” who had asked Bernard to put in writing and expand his sermons “On the Degrees of Humility.” Bernard was hesitant to undertake the project because as he put it, “I had my doubts about my own ability.” He finally relented and wrote the book, adding, “Should there be anything helpful in what I write, I beg you to pray that I shall not fall victim to pride; or if (as is more likely) I fail to produce anything that is helpful, there will still be no reason for pride.”
Bernard, of course, did not confine himself to writing just about humility but added some very helpful material on pride, which is why we now title his writing The Steps of Humility and Pride.
Bernard’s concluding comment is one of my favorite passages in the entire book. And after I had chided him about his negative view of laughter, I do find this to be high humor . . . of a tenth-century variety. Bernard writes,
Well, you may perhaps say, brother Godfrey, that in describing the steps of pride instead of the steps of humility, I seem to have gone beyond your request and on to my own course. I can only say that I can but teach what I have learned. I did not think it appropriate for me to speak about the ascent, as I am aware that my own movements tend to be down rather than up. St. Benedict may lay before you the steps of humility, for he held them in his own heart. I have nothing to lay before you, apart from my own downward course. However, if that is examined carefully, you will hopefully discover the way to go up.
NUMEROUS QUESTIONS
Today, Luke 9:46-48 grabs my attention: “An argument arose among them as to which one of them was the greatest. But Jesus, aware of their inner thoughts, took a little child and put it by his side, and said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes this child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me; for the least among all of you is the greatest.’” This passage raises numerous questions in my mind:
What caused this argument about who is the greatest to erupt in the first place?
Why did Jesus use a child to illustrate his teaching about greatness?
How on a practical level is it that the “the least is the greatest”?
I will try to live into these questions for a while and see what I can learn.
WHO IS THE LEAST?
Whenever human beings are having an argument over who is the greatest, underneath there is a fearful concern over who is the least. Most of us realize that we are not the “greatest” . . . just don’t let us be the “least.” Perhaps this is why Jesus uses a child to illustrate his point. In that day the child is the very least. I rather think things have not changed all that much. When people gather for conversation children are often left out. Or, if the child is allowed into the circle of conversation, it is only to listen and not to speak.
THIS WELCOMING SPIRIT
The child is an appropriate example of “greatness” because of the child’s ability to welcome anyone and everyone. It doesn’t matter who they are. In the sandbox children may not even know each other, but in a few moments they are happily playing together. Perhaps this welcoming spirit is at the heart of greatness.
A GIGANTIC BOUQUET
Oh my! This morning Castlewood Canyon is completely covered in a gigantic bouquet of wildflowers.
The delicate lavender pasque flower abounds. It is one of the first flowers to emerge and is sometimes called the Easter flower referring to its Easter flowering period. The poet Badger Clark wrote of it as “that bold bit of life at the edge of the snows.”
The pure white petals of the crownleaf evening primrose sparkle in the dawn, and its bright yellow stamens wave in the cool morning breeze.
The charming bud-like pink prairie smoke flower is scattered throughout the canyon giving it a special elegance.
The bright purple locoweed spreads itself all along the canyon floor providing a royal welcome trail for the hiker.
I am wondering, Can flowers be humble? I don’t know, I’m just wondering.
They are certainly not “humble” in the same way as we who struggle with raging pride and destructive self-deception. No, but isn’t it true that flowers do reflect something of the character of their Creator? So, I am wondering, Is the great humility that is in God in some way reflected back in these wonderful wildflowers? I watch as they show forth such brilliance and beauty without any strutting or puffing whatever. They are simply there for all to see . . . more beautiful than human words can tell. In all the glory of these flowers I am taught a bit about the beauty of humility.