Some words
in Hebrew can be reasonably stretched to bear more than one English meaning.
Thus kavod (“honour”) and yirah (“fear”) can both be rendered as
shades of “respect”, but shefal ru’ach and anav—the two Hebrew
terms usually rendered as “humble”—offer little in the way of variation. Shefal
ru’ach literally means “low-spirited”, but that conveys to the English ear
a state of gloomy depression rather than humility.
Our sages
have in the past emphasised the link between humility and the need for each of
us to believe—to convince ourselves—that we as humans are of no worth
whatsoever and that it is only through the grace of God that we have any
apparent merits at all. This position is rooted in midrashic and aggadic
tradition. But the same tradition also points in other directions. Thus the
sages also teach that we are to regard the world as if it was created
specifically for ourselves and that we are the children of princes—and even the
humblest of Torah scholars is entitled to “an eighth of an eighth” of pride.
Pirkei Avot advocates a maximised form of humility (see e.g. Avot 4:4, 4:12)
but also that we concede the truth (Avot 5:9), and the false modesty of
scholars who repeatedly boast that they know nothing does nothing to promote the
cause of humility among those who need to acquire it for themselves.
One way
forward with humility is to explain it in terms that make it sound more
accessible to ordinary people. Chanoch Levi’s English translation of Rabbi
Chaim Volozhiner’s Ru’ach Chaim does that rather well in the course of
the long, discursive essay in which Reb Chaim reviews the deeper significance
of Avot 4:1. There he writes:
“It is important to realize that humility involves more than simply
absorbing taunts and insults without exacting retribution. Humility is a state
of mind, the recognition that one’s worth is no greater than that of any
other man” (italics added).
This
definition of humility is not only something that lies within the grasp of
everyone; it is also compatible with the popular contemporary notion that all
humans are equal. The statement that “I am no better than anyone else” is far
easier to internalise than “I am of no worth when compared to anyone else”.
However, “equal” is not the same as “identical”. We are all different and Reb
Chaim acknowledges that too:
“For although a person may achieve great success, he may also suspect
that perhaps he has failed to realize his true potential. Others might
accomplish less, but may have maximized their potential; they are considered to
be on a higher level”.
If we are
honest with ourselves, we all recognise episodes in our lives in which we know
that we could have done better, even if others do not see it. From my own years
as a law teacher I can recall classes I gave which the students really enjoyed
and thought were particularly good, though the high degree of enjoyment they
derived and their consequently high rating of the class were as much
attributable to the facts that they had insufficiently prepared for the class
and that I, knowing that this would be the case, took less care in my own
preparation for it than I could have done. In instances such as this, one has
to resist the temptation to feel pride in a job less well done.
