The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [94]
Poverty of spirit is different: it is a life-giving goal.
Poverty of spirit is another way of speaking of humility. Without it, we resist admitting our reliance on God, are tempted to try to make it on our own, and are more likely to despair when we fail. And since spiritual poverty recognizes our fundamental reliance on God, it lies at the heart of the spiritual life.
“Thus poverty of spirit is not just one virtue among many,” writes Metz toward the end of his book. “It is the hidden component of every transcending act, the ground of every ‘theological virtue.’ ”
THE THREE DEGREES OF HUMILITY
Ignatius put a premium on poverty of spirit. In the Spiritual Exercises, following the meditation on the Two Standards, he offers the framework of the Three Ways of Being Humble, also known as the Three Degrees of Humility.
In his book Draw Me into Your Friendship, David Fleming, S.J., describes Ignatius as laying out a spectrum of humility, in which we are encouraged to choose the greater degree, and so more closely follow Jesus. George Aschenbrenner, S.J., describes the three degrees in Stretched for Greater Glory, as “three ways of loving.”
The First Degree is one in which you would always be obedient to “the law of God” by leading a moral life. Here you would do nothing to cut yourself off from God. You want to do the right thing. Aschenbrenner says, “This amounts to loving someone so much that you would go to whatever trouble may be involved to respond to that person’s [in this case, God’s] explicitly stated desire.”
The Second Degree is one in which, when presented with an option for a choice in life, you strive to be free of wanting the choice that would bring wealth, honor, or a long life. It’s the classic example of Ignatian “indifference” or “detachment.” Not only will you do the right thing, you will be free to accept whatever life presents. In this stage, says Fleming, “the only real principle of choice is to do the will of God.” You are detached and strive never to turn away from God. “This degree of love,” writes Aschenbrenner, “goes beyond the first and presumes the freedom of indifference.”
The Third Degree, the “most perfect” way, is one in which you actually choose the more humble way, in order to be like Christ. You desire so much to follow him that, as Fleming writes, “his experiences are reflected in my own.” In other words, you choose to be poor and even rejected as Jesus was. Aschenbrenner notes, “Here the desire to imitate has become an eagerness to share . . . the whole being and condition of the Beloved.”
Is this masochistic? Another confirmation of those stereotypes about how “sick” Christianity is? Only if it’s misunderstood. The Third Degree of Humility does not seek poverty or rejection for its own sake, but as a way of identifying with Christ and as a way of freeing oneself from an exaggerated self-interest. The friendship analogy is useful: when your friend is suffering, are you willing to suffer with him?
The Third Degree is an often unattainable goal for me: most days I feel I can barely make it to the Second Degree! But it’s an important one, because it helps to move us toward freedom from disordered attachments that keep us from following God. As Brian Daley, S.J., noted in an article called “To Be More Like Christ,” this kind of humility makes us ready to be “as free as possible from our ingrained self-centeredness, as full a realization as possible of Jesus’ concrete call to each individual to be a disciple in his image.”
What Do You Believe?
Many Jesuit jokes play on our (supposed) struggles to be humble. One has a Jesuit, a Franciscan, and a Dominican dying and going to heaven. They are ushered into God’s throne room, where God is seated on an immense, diamond-encrusted