The Grandness of Being Small

 

The Grandness of Being Small: The Humble Road to Holiness

Now listen here, lad or lassie, if there's one thing to be getting into that thick skull of yours, it's this – humility is the very heart and soul of Christ Himself. ‘The Lord is clothed with majesty,’ they say, but sure, would you believe, His majesty is His very humility! The Prophet Isaiah had it spot on when he painted the picture of Our Lord as a wee lamb, led to the slaughter, not a word out of Him. That’s the kind of humility a true monk chases after like a man lost in the bog seeking solid ground. He knows well that if he can get even a taste of it, the Lord’s own grace will come pouring down over him like rain on a parched field.

Now, you’d think humility would be a handy thing to have, but let me tell you, it’s no easy road. Saint Sophrony, the wise old lad, put it plain as day—pride is the root of all our trouble, and by God, it runs deep, right into the very bones of us. From the minute Adam and Eve went taking notions of themselves, that old Luciferic pride got into the mix, twisting itself around our hearts, minds, and even our very bodies. To root it out? Well, that’s no small job, more like a surgeon going at you with a blunt knife! The battle against this pride, this cursed bit of Lucifer left in us, is the great struggle of every soul that dares to walk the ascetic road. And why is the devil so strong against us? Because, like it or not, we’re too much like him in our pride! The only way to break free? To bow the head, empty the self, and take up the grand and noble way of humility.

And sure, isn’t it written plain as day in the Good Book? ‘God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.’ There’s no two ways about it. The secret to the monastic life is found in that one little word—humility. The holy men of old, the Desert Fathers, they had no time for egos and grandstanding. No sir! They knew full well that the quickest way to God was to flatten yourself like Abba Zacharias, who, in a fine bit of theatre, threw his hat to the ground, stamped on it, and declared, ‘If a man can't take being treated like this, he’s no monk at all!’ That was their whole way of thinking—becoming nothing in themselves so that God Himself might build them up again, fashioned in the true image of His own divine nature.

You might be wondering, ‘And what about the rest of us, the ordinary lads and lasses trying to make sense of it all?’ Well, sure, isn't it the same battle for every soul? You don’t have to be tucked away in some monastery to know that pride is the great enemy of love. It builds walls where there should be doors, turns friends into foes, and worst of all, blinds a man to his own foolishness. But take the humble road, and you’ll find yourself walking light, free of the heavy chains of self-importance. The humble man has nothing to prove and nothing to fear; he lets the Lord do the lifting while he just plods along, keeping his eyes on heaven and his heart clear of pride’s rotten weight.

So, there you have it now—the high art of being small! The world will tell you to be grand, to puff yourself up, to grab and take, but the wise soul knows better. It’s the man who lowers himself, who doesn’t mind a knock or two, who wins the race in the end. And who’s waiting for him at the finish line? None other than Christ Himself, the King of Kings, the very one who made Himself the lowest of all to lift us up to glory. Now, isn't that a grand thing altogether?