Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [92]
There is a hint of Bob Gillis in that Quaker and a hint of me in Franklin. On this issue, as with difficulties surrounding Order, Ben and I share common traits: pride, being overbearing, insolence. We are like hubristic doppelgangers.
Like me, Franklin also acknowledged his difficulty in mastering Humility:
In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you will see it, perhaps, often in this history; for, even if I could conceive that I had compleatly overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility.
{ Pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt.}
It’s a virtuous catch-22: Be humble, feel good about being humble, realize you’re not being humble, start all over.
Franklin did offer some explanation of how he achieved a modicum of success achieving Humility. He faked it. He claimed no success in achieving Humility, but he did achieve a significant measure of success in the appearance of Humility.
That hardly seems virtuous, but it does have the distinct advantage of being more successful than whatever I’d been trying for the last forty years or so. So I would follow Franklin. I would adopt a respectful, diffident, restrained manner of discourse. I would make an effort to deny myself the pleasure of correcting the errors of others and thus at least achieve the appearance of Humility.
I hear a tinge of boastfulness in that pledge—I’d watch that.
The Four Stages of Learning and a Little Humble Pie
Perhaps, I reasoned, the way to begin a quest for Humility was in the precept to Franklin’s virtue: Imitate Jesus and Socrates. It is one of the most direct pieces of guidance in the entire course.
I talked to Chris about this. Remember that among Chris’s many hats, one of the most prominent is being a minister. In fact, he has a PhD in theology. Of all the virtues, here was the one for which I was certain he could point me down a safe and well-traveled road. I even had some notion he would be excited that I might seek guidance on how to follow Jesus.
Instead, Chris provided me a cautionary tale about Humility.
“Two years ago,” he told me, “I went to pick up a babysitter, and when she opened the car door, I noticed she was sporting a new, bright yellow plastic bracelet, and it had the letters ‘WWJD’ printed into the band. I had no idea what the inscription meant, so I asked.”
These bracelets are everywhere. You know the kind. They range from advertisements for bands or sports heroes to secret codes for dating emergencies to charitable promotions to awareness campaigns for debilitating diseases.
Chris continued, “When I asked what it was, the babysitter smiled, knowing I was a minister, and replied proudly, ‘WWJD . . . It means: “What Would Jesus Do?” ’ She went on to explain that the bracelets were part of her youth group Bible project. They had decided as a group that they would wear these wristbands to remind them of an important principle. Whenever they were uncertain about their action, or whenever they were facing a decision that was novel or difficult, they would ask themselves, ‘What would Jesus do?’ ”
Sounded exactly like what I should be asking, at least on this week. One had only to follow the direction Jesus led. That’s exactly what Franklin advised (as had many others before and after him). Franklin’s final virtue directs us to imitate Jesus. To be ethical, we have only to ask ourselves what he would do and then do the same. Virtue is a matter of imitation.
“But it’s not that simple,” said Chris.
Great, I thought. It all sounded very simple a few moments before. So why was it not so simple? What Chris said was that imitation is a poor basis for virtue. “Imagine,” he said, “if I was to suggest that you imitate