A modest demeanor invites others to examine the “quiet depths” of the heart.
2000-01-26

So what do you say we finish up this whole modesty thing?

Don’t worry, I really don’t have any more to say about who wears what. But all of this talking (and writing) about modesty has peaked my interest in the larger context of modesty -- the part of it that goes beyond what we wear.

That interest was spiked again last month, in the form of an article my friend Donald DeMarco wrote in the December issue of Lay Witness magazine. DeMarco, who wrote the book The Heart of Virtue, (Ignatius Press, 1996), wrote a beautiful little piece discussing modesty as an attitude, as it relates to how we present ourselves to the world.

Modesty in this sense is a sort of quiet self-confidence. The modest person is reluctant to call attention to himself or his achievements. He doesn’t brag. He doesn’t go out of his way to tell people how great he is or what he’s accomplished.

Of course, this kind of modesty is hopelessly out of step with the modern world. Image is everything. As Billy Crystal used to say, “All that matters is how you look, and dah-ling, you look mah-velous.” What seems to matter isn’t so much what we actually are and what we’ve actually done as much as how others perceive us.

It all comes down to a certain subjectivism. It seems that, these days, the reality of you lies not so much within yourself as it does within the subjective minds of others who observe and interpret you.

In such a world as ours, modesty seems silly. Why would you not work to cast yourself in the best possible light? When we think of “modest” people in this regard, we think of someone who makes self-disparaging remarks, someone who downgrades himself and actually doesn’t seem to like himself very much.

Modest people seem to have very low self-esteem.

But that isn’t the case at all. The truly modest person, contrary to popular belief, is actually very self-confident. So self-confident, in fact, that he doesn’t feel the need to “play the game.” He knows who he is. He knows what he’s done. And he feels no burning need to tell others in order to boost their opinion of him. As Donald DeMarco says, “He is more eager to know what he needs to know than to parade what he already knows. He has a healthy sense of himself as he is and is less concerned about how others view him.”

The truly confident person accomplishes things because he wants them accomplished -- not so he can use that accomplishment to dazzle others. He writes a book because he wants to subject promulgated, not so that he can use it as a credential at a cocktail party. He helps the poor because they need help, not because he wants to be seen by others as magnanimous. He defends his country because it needs defending, not so that he can be admired as a war hero.

Ironically, it is the modest man (or woman, of course -- we are all clear on that, aren’t we?) who impresses others in the end. How many times have you been bored out of your mind by a braggart? How many times have you listened patiently as somebody at a cocktail party droned on and on about his accomplishments? How impressed were you, really?

On the other hand, how many times have you discovered something truly impressive about somebody, and been doubly impressed because you didn’t actually hear it from that person? Not only did you learn about what that person has accomplished, but you learned something about their character as well. Modesty reveals that rightness of intention. This person obviously did what he did because it needed doing, not because he needed praise for it. DeMarco says, “It is only natural for people to life up the modest and be turned away by the proud.”

Look at it another way. Why does God love you? Is he impressed by your accomplishments? Hardly. He loves you who you are, because you’re a creature created in His image and likeness. And, in that image and likeness, you were created to love, to live in unity and community with others. How do we live in that unity and community? By focusing our attention on others. By looking at them, at their needs and their personhood -- by entering into their world. Not by focusing on ourselves and our own triumphs. The world of ourselves is a tiny little world, indeed.

Modesty affirms that we value ourselves for the image and likeness of God that we are, not just for the things we’ve done. And that acknowledgment frees us from the silly chains of hunger for human approval. If God approves, if God loves us, then what do we care if others know what we do or don’t do? Once we’re freed of that need for approval, we can go about with the work of being human, which in the end, paradoxically, brings us the most approval of all.

Once again, I quote DeMarco. (So many good quotes in one article!) He says “Modesty is inherently attractive because it invites one to examine the quiet depth of what is there.” That’s the best summary I can possibly imagine. Modesty invites; it doesn’t overwhelm. It puts accomplishments into proper perspective, as the fruits of a well-ordered life. They’re not the tree, they’re just the fruits.

Bragging just calls attention to the fruits. Modesty calls attention to the tree.