St. Teresa de Avila
A few years ago, I read an article titled “Humility, The Virtue No One Wants.” It was a good title, I thought, because humility is maybe just a little too close to the word humiliation for comfort, a bit like shame, the sort of thing we think we’d like to get away from. I was looking for teachings on humility because at the time, I was reading a lot of St. Teresa de Avila and she considered humility, along with love, the quality most essential for spiritual growth.
St. Teresa is difficult to read, and part of that is because she spends pages and pages, over and over again, professing her humility, apologizing for being such a stupid woman, so much less than her superiors. From 21st century standards, this is so over the top that I thought it might have been her way of surviving the 16th century Spanish inquisition and the male dominated church of that time. And that could be partially true. But I also could see that she was absolutely sincere – humility was the ground of her practice. At the same time she was very sure of her relation to God, and to her journey; she was confident.
The Webster dictionary defines humility as freedom from pride or arrogance. There’s certainly nothing shameful there. We can see this kind of true humility kick in when we finally give up any pretense of running the show. Humility includes the ability to be honest with ourselves about the inconvenient, painful fact that anything can happen at any time.
Maybe we think that, if we were really doing our practice right, nothing unpleasant or unwholesome would ever pop up or bother us, but that’s not the case. The pleasant, the unpleasant and the neutral can all show up, and if we let them they’ll also roll away. We see that when we sit down to meditate.
Another thing that brings up humility is the fact that the more present we become for our lives, the more willing we are to look at what arises, the more impurity we’re going to see. Spiritual practice is a purification process that calls for a lot of humility. The more we purify, the bigger and closer to the bone the impurities will seem. We become more sensitive to them and it can pain us more to see them. So in this process it’s important to not get lost in identifying with our impurities, our thoughts, our fears, our ‘spiritual progress.’ Those things are not who we really are – I say that to myself sometimes, ‘not who I really am’ – they’re just thoughts or feelings, ideas or constructs or moods or sensations.
There’s a teaching story about two little flies that lived in the barn with the farm animals, that were the best of friends, that flew around together every day. One morning one of the flies woke up and couldn’t find his friend. He looked all over the barn, high and low, and finally he gave up. But when the oxen came in from the fields that evening, there was his friend, riding on one of the horns of an ox. “Where have you been all day?” the one little fly asked, and his friend puffed up his chest and said, importantly, “We’ve been plowing.’ And the teaching is that we all think it’s us doing things, we’re all so busy and full of our importance, but really, we’re just riding on the horns of the great beast. Life carries us until it puts us down.
Understanding this brings us the kind of humility that Saint Teresa had, the kind of humility that supports confidence in our practice. When this happens we can stop referring to the constructed idea of ourselves and the personal gain or loss of that construction and start listening to the awareness that’s inside us that is unstoppable, unlimitable. We can align with that and learn to listen to it, in daily life and in meditation. And of course, a big part of the training ground for that is meditation.
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