I remember the first time I heard someone describe me as “arrogant.” I was devastated. It was just after my university days and one of my closest friends was describing me to a woman I had just met. He had no idea I was standing in the next room, and could hear everything he said, as he continued, “David has a big head and sometimes thinks he’s better than others.” I felt shocked to hear my dear friend say this, and was deeply hurt.

I remember seeking input from other close friends to understand better whether they perceived me the same way, and while none of them said so as bluntly, they gave me the feedback that at times, I let my status as an “honors student” (they used these “air quotes”) and student leader on campus “go to my head.” That they loved me anyway amazed me, and why I really took their comments to heart.

While it certainly was painful to hear this feedback, it was also somewhat disturbing to me that I could be so unaware of this perception by others. It was the last thing that I wanted. One of my classmates had majored in psychology, and she added, as if to make me feel better, “it’s ok, David. Most people try to compensate somehow for their insecurities.” Thinking of this now makes me smile, but at the time, I remember thinking, “ok, now you’re adding insult to injury!”

In the gospel this Sunday from Luke 18:9-14, the story that Jesus relates highlights a particular kind of arrogance. The Pharisee prides himself on his obedience to the law, his personal piety and discipline. He believes that these factors make him superior to others, and from his superior position, he looks down on others with judgment, even scorn. The Pharisee is also quite blind, because were he more self aware, he would realize how these attitudes were far from the holiness he professed to have, as if righteousness was a possession he owned or a quality that he merited. He would have realized how his arrogance made his heart hard, limiting his openness to others and constricting his compassion. He would have understood that his pride was a symptom of his distance from God, no matter how close God was walking with him.

Meanwhile, we know that Jesus praises the tax collector, whose self-awareness of his weakness and sin is understood in a virtuous light. He knows he is imperfect and in need of God’s grace, and while he stands at a respectful distance from the Holy of Holies, he no doubt seems himself as very much a failable human being amongst and with his fellow human beings. His heart is tender in his humility, and open to the mercy and goodness of God, opposite to the way that the Pharisee denies himself need for God. He instead justified himself.

Over the years, I have found myself on a journey of discovery related to the ways I have been prone to self justification. And in fact, I have learned that my psychologist friend was correct- those of us who lapse into pride or arrogance are indeed compensating for areas of insecurity. I have been at times afraid that I’m not as intelligent as others, and so tried to prove I was. I have been afraid that I’m not as competent, or successful as others, and so, I have gone out of my way to prove that I was. I have been afraid that I am not as popular or influential as others, and so, I have tried to prove that I was. And while I say all of these things as if they are in the past, I know that at times, I still compensate in the same ways, but perhaps only more subtly. The moment I believe that I’ve somehow outlived this tendency is the moment when the one Ignatius of Loyola called the “enemy of our human nature” has won. I will always rely on God’s willingness to love me anyway.

I share this honestly because in my heart of hearts, I believe that not only is humility what God wants for each of us, but I also believe that it is what is best for us, especially if we are invested with roles of service and responsibility as leaders.

You might think to yourself, “but don’t leaders have to be confident, bold, and tough? Don’t leaders have to be exemplary in knowledge and expertise, in capacity and competence? Wouldn’t a humble leader be taken advantage of by others?” There is truth in each of these assertions, but not the whole truth.

There is no need to detail all the downsides and implications of pride, arrogance, or self-righteousness in leaders (though while we know them, it is also remarkable that we elect plenty of people with these characteristics). But the merits of humility seem to require more attention today.

Humility is about standing in the richly composted soil (humus) of the whole truth, that we are each imperfect sinners who are totally beloved by God anyway. In this love, there is no need for self-justification, and in fact, self-justification and pride are revealed to be just the flimsy deceptions they are, weak compensations for what we fear that we lack. Humility allows us to take ourselves lightly, to laugh and enjoy humor at our own expense.

Humility about our limits and partiality, our imperfections and need for grace, our need for others to help complete us and complement our weaknesses with their gifts… this kind of humility is a virtue and a strength for leaders. And the humility to admit we make mistakes, that we are also in a life-long process of growth, integration, learning and maturity– this too is a kind leadership for this human journey that we’re all on.

The last thing I would like to say for now about humility is that it does not by any means preclude the possibility of boldness, courage, or strength. It is in fact the combination of humility and tenacity for a greater purpose and mission than one’s self that creates the conditions for an exceptional quality of leadership, the leadership of servants and disciples following their Lord on his Way.

With you on the road,