Our Littleness
One
“I’m Kind of a Big Deal”
Did you ever see the movie Anchorman? If you haven’t, don’t. It’s really dumb. But one funny part is when the main character, Ron Burgandy, who is a total idiot, is talking to someone, and says, “I’m kind of a big deal.”
That line is funny for a couple of reasons. On the one hand it’s funny because it’s such an outrageously arrogant thing to say, only someone who was completely socially clueless would ever say it. On the other hand, it’s funny because, at the end of the day, it’s what we’re all trying to prove to ourselves and to other people.
We may not come out and directly say, “I’m kind of a big deal,” but so much of what we do and how we talk is actually trying to express that idea. And, of course, it’s not true. It’s not true of any of us. None of us are big deals. Not pop stars or presidents or popes, and certainly not you and me. And trying to act like we’re a big deal ultimately means we’re living a very unhappy lie.
Two
Why We’re Not a Big Deal
We are very, very small. In fact, we’re infinitely small and totally not independent. To begin with, we can’t even, exist on our own for a single second. God has to supply every part of our bodies and souls with existence, at every second, or we wouldn’t even be. He has to supply every action with energy, with causal support, at every second, or we couldn’t do anything.
This is why God said to St. Catherine of Siena, “Do you know, daughter, who you are, and who I am? If you know these two things you will be blessed. You are she who is not; whereas I am He who is.”
We barely even exist, our survival is so tenuous that a moment’s withdrawal of divine causality and we’d be annihilated. And by the way, while we do exist, look at what goobers we are! Look how predictably incompetent we all are! How weird and sometimes ridiculous our body is, what it does, and the practical jokes it plays on us. How little we all know about so many things. How all of us are either clumsy verbally, physically, or technically. We’re lucky any of us can even get our shoes tied!
And then, as if that weren’t enough, as if we weren’t a bunch of goofballs who can barely hang on to existence, we’re also shameful sinners. We do the ugliest, most inexcusable things, and not just out of ignorance or on accident, but deliberately and on purpose!
How can any of us possibly put on airs after all this?! How can any of us take ourselves seriously, or demand to be taken seriously by others, when we’re infinitely small, so incapable in so many areas, and so abominably sinful? Why would we even try to pretend we’re a big deal after that?
Three
The Relief of Not Pretending – the Peace of Truth
Truth is always a point of rest. When you figure out the right answer to a math problem you’ve been working on, when you find the name of someone you couldn’t remember, when you get a good answer to a good question. In all these cases, there’s a sense of peace, of closure. Of rest.
And the opposite of that rest is when you’re trying to maintain a false position, when you’re lying. Then you have to be constantly on guard so that you don’t give yourself away. You have to constantly look at the deception from every angle, make sure you haven’t forgotten anything that will let people suspect the truth.
What’s the point? The point is that trying to maintain the pretense that you’re a big deal, that you’re extra special or talented or insightful or valuable or worthwhile, that you somehow matter more or have more worth than other people.
That’s exhausting. That’s so stressful. Which means this: humility, recognizing your own littleness and imperfection and sinfulness, that is the most peaceful thing you can do. That’s what takes the stress off. Because it’s true. And acknowledging the truth, and abandoning false pretense, is the surest path to the joy of tranquility.
Four
Joining Christ in Humility
In a letter to St. Jeanne de Chantal, St. Francis de Sales wrote that we shouldn’t just rejoice in our nothingness because it’s true. He said we should also rejoice in our nothingness because of, “the humiliations of the Word Incarnate.”
In other words, we should want to rest in our littleness and imperfection because we are little and imperfect. But we should also want to rest there because Jesus, who was not little or imperfect, who was the infinite all-perfect God Himself, Jesus was treated as though He were nothing.
The innocent Christ was treated in all the ways we actually deserve to be treated. He was treated like a criminal, like a joke, like someone of absolutely no significance. So, basically, we can take peace and joy in our own nothingness, not just because that’s what we are, but that way we can slum it up with the Infinite God-made man.
Just as the Good Thief must have rejoiced that his failings wound up leading him to be crucified next to the Universal Savior, so let us rejoice that our littleness, our incompetence, and even our abysmal moral failings, allow us to keep company with the God who so humbled Himself for our sake.
Let us use every opportunity we have to humble ourselves so that we can always be with the Eternal King of Humility.
Five
Cheerfulness and Humility
Humility and cheerfulness always seem to go together, don’t they? All the saints, when you look at their pictures, seem cheerful. Mother Teresa, John Paul II, Carlo Acutis, they’re always smiling… and it’s because they’re always humble.
Gravity is just another word for seriousness. And taking yourself too seriously is the one thing that will take away your joy forever. GK Chesterton wrote, “Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly.”
So be cheerful. Because you’re not a big deal. You’re not that great. And God loves you anyway.
Suggested Resolutions:
Choose one resolution for today to help you grow closer to God, or create your own. Here are some ideas to inspire you.
Take time this week to remember that you only exist because God wants you to.
Don’t pretend to be something you’re not, accept your limitations knowing you have nothing to prove.
In your weaknesses, unite your pain and shame to Jesus, who was humbled for our sake.