Humility

One of the issues that has come up for me, reflecting on the Daring Way workshop I attended a while ago, is the question of humility. Brené Brown's work seems to me to ask two things of us; the first is to believe that we are wonderful, and the second is to attend to how we are being wonderful (and how we could be more wonderful) all the time. 

Yet I still set great store by humility; not of the unctuous Uriah Heep type; but the genuine humility that recognises that I am not perfect, that I am not more important than anyone else, that I should not be the sole focus of my interest and attention.

I love this C S Lewis quotation on the subject of a truly humble man: He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all. 

I have mentioned before my interest in the work of C W Metcalfe (Humour, Risk and Change) and in particular the moment when he draws a quick map of the Universe on a flipchart, explaining solemnly that it is expanding in all directions.  He then marks a point in the middle and explains it is the Center of the Universe (sic: he is American, after all). He then marks another point, and says: 'That's you - and when you confuse the two, you have lost the plot!'

It gets a laugh: the joke is good, and his delivery and timing are excellent - and it touches a nerve.  Because we all know that we frequently react as though we are in fact the centre of the Universe (because we are the centre of our own...) So we say: 'How could they do this to me?' when in fact we weren't in their thoughts at all...

So that is my problem with this kind of work: it not only encourages us to look searchingly at ourself, which, I think is a good thing from time to time (we all know how difficult it is when we encounter someone with absolutely no self-awareness or insight); but it also encourages to judge ourselves in the most positive light possible (and when I see others doing that, it seems problematic to me); and also to keep looking searchingly at ourself, all the time. And that I think is also problematic (and again, we can all think of people who are so consumed with working on themselves...)

So there is a balance to be struck, I would argue, between a regular self-examination, which is essential (the unexamined life is not worth living, as Socrates is said to have observed) and maintaining attention on other people and the world outside us, as though they too are important and worthy of our consideration and attention...

Work in progress...

Shame and Guilt

Over the last couple of days, I have been at a Daring Way workshop, run by Jacqui Sjenitzer, and based on the work of Brené Brown (see here for an account of a previous workshop with Jacqui on this material).  I will blog more about the workshop overall (it was excellent) when I have had time to reflect on it further. In this post I want to pursue one particular line of thought. 

One of the many helpful distinctions that Brown makes is between guilt and shame. According to her understanding, guilt is 'I did something bad,' and shame is 'I am bad.' Further, she states that shame is positively correlated to addiction, depression, and many other problems; whilst guilt is inversely correlated to them: it leads to much better outcomes.

That led one of the participants on the programme to say: "People talk about Catholic guilt; but really it's Catholic shame..."

I understand that for many people, that may be their experience of Catholicism; and I am not going to argue with their lived reality. However, it is also my experience that the opposite is true, and that my Catholic upbringing, at least, has allowed me to deal appropriately with guilt and not be shackled by shame. We didn't get into that discussion on the workshop - it would have been a fairly major digression, and Jacqui wanted us to move on. So here are my reflections.

My thesis is that Catholicism is very powerful. And like anything that is powerful, when abused, it becomes very destructive. But used properly, it is a great force for good.

I was pleased that one of the other participants, at the end of the programme, chose to share a quotation attributed to Mother Teresa, which she felt summed up the spirit of the course:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

 What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway. 

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway. 

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

That, it seems to me, is an example of Catholicism done properly.

One of the things that interests me is how much of the new wisdom on how to live a healthy, happy and successful life is already embedded in the Catholicism in which I was raised.

From Viktor Frankl, we learn of the importance of meaning and purpose: from my upbringing, I know that my meaning and purpose are to love and be loved.

In a world that seems ever more bitterly divided, I hold fast to my Faith that all were created by love, in love, and for love.

To move on from difficult stuff, Brown (and others) teach us that we need to acknowledge it, learn from it, apologise or make amends when appropriate, and then leave it behind. Many use therapy to help with this. In my tradition, that need is met by a daily examination of conscience, prayers of contrition, a resolution to do better next time, confession, and absolution. The psychological benefits of this practice, alone, are extraordinary (when correctly practiced, of course).

The research on the benefits of meditation is convincing many people of the importance of this as a daily practice. We learned that from the Desert Fathers (and Christ himself, of course), and daily meditation is the cornerstone of a life of prayer.

Almost every book on leadership talks of the importance of integrity, based on clear values. I strive to run my business (and indeed life) according to the values of Faith, Hope and Charity; and informed by justice, prudence, temperance and fortitude. (Temperance is not a fashionable word, but it is vigilance against excess: and how much that is needed at present!). My favourite (and recurrent) feedback is that I help to re-kindle or strengthen hope.

We are learning more and more about the beneficial effects of the practice of gratitude. From my earliest years, I have been taught to give thanks for every day, for every meal on the table..., in fact for everything.

As I say, I recognise that others have had a dreadful experience of a Catholic upbringing, and that is truly tragic (and shameful for the Church). But I think that the other story also deserves to be told; the formation that inspired not only Mother Teresa, but also Maximilian Kolbe, the friar who volunteered to die in place of a stranger in Auschwitz, Lech Walesa, the leader of Solidarity, and countless others in every field of human endeavour.