Hate. And humility.

It is the fourth of July. Many today will spend the day celebrating. Celebrating what? Freedom? Family? Food? Our superiority over other nations? Tonight we will re-enact scenes of violence ("and the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air") to remember the fight to gain and protect freedom.
But in reality, we in modern America have little concept of freedom because we have so little memory of what it is like not to be free. (This omits, of course, the ridiculous number of Americans--disproportionately African-American--whom we incarcerate.) There was one American, however, who did understand.

Elie Wiesel. Credit AP.

Two days ago, Elie Wiesel died, at age 87. At age 15, he was sent to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. His father, mother, and sister died in the Holocaust. His experiences during this time are told in his book Night, the first in a trilogy. From the time of the Holocaust Wiesel was stateless, until he became a U.S. citizen in 1963. He is best known for his untiring work to keep alive the memory of the Holocaust, in order to prevent recurrence of such repression and racism. After being award the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, he and his wife established the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity to continue that work.
I'm sorry to say that until recently I knew very little about Elie Wiesel. I've not got around to reading Night yet. To prepare to write about him today, I consulted his wonderful obituary in Haaretz. On learning of his death, and preparing for our Sunday School lesson on humility, I decided to delve briefly into his writings. One of the functions of the Elie Wiesel Foundation has been to organize international conferences on "The Anatomy of Hate." In his memoir And the Sea Is Never Full, Wiesel writes (p. 369):

"Hate," the key word, describes the passions, often contradictory and always vile, that have torn and ravaged the twentieth century. Only the twentieth century? In truth, the word contains and illustrates the full recorded memory of human cruelty and suffering. Cain hated his brother and killed him, thus the first death in history was a murder. Since then, hate and death have not ceased to rage.

Hate—racial, tribal, religious, ancestral, national, social, ethical, political, economic, ideological—in itself represents the inexorable defeat of mankind, its absolute defeat. If there is an area in which mankind cannot claim the slightest progress, this surely is it. It does not take much for human beings, collectively or individually, to suddenly one day pit themselves like wild beasts one against the other, their worst instincts laid bare, in a state of deleterious exaltation. One decision, one simple word, and a family or a community will drown in blood or perish in flames.

Why is there so much violence, so much hate? How is it conceived, transmitted, fertilized, nurtured? As we face the disquieting, implacable rise of intolerance and fanaticism on more than one continent, it is our duty to expose the danger. By naming it. By confronting it.

Powerful words. Worth reading again, and after doing so I would like us—including you, gentle reader—to engage in an exercise. It is easy to picture the other fanatics, the ones who hate us. Instead, I  would like us to focus on our own hate. Whom do we hate? Hillary Clinton? Donald Trump? Nigel Farage? Sadiq Khan? "Libtards"? Fanatical Conservatives? Gays? Gay-bashers? Muslims? Christians? Hindus? Sikhs?
Think about it: whom do you hate?

Go ahead. I'll wait.


After talking further about fanaticism, Elie Wiesel continues (p. 372):

Combating fanaticism means denouncing the humiliation of the Other. It means celebrating the freedom of the Other, the freedom of all Others.

In the same two sentences, we find humiliation and, by inference, humility. Both words are from Latin, humiliare: to humiliate, and humilitus: humility; and both Latin words derive from humilis: lowly (from humus: ground), which is the origin of humble. Hatred is associated with humiliating "the Other", (see, for example, the large number of denigratory images of President Obama, occasionally excused as "just for amusement"), so one way for us to overcome our hatred is through practicing humility. It is hard to look down on someone when one has lowered oneself; hence the custom of bowing.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4, NRSV.

Thinking of oneself less

When we try to practice humility, it helps to remember that humility doesn't have to mean thinking less of oneself, but rather thinking of oneself less, which we can do by thinking of others first. We recently drove to Tennessee and back, and on the journey listened to To Kill a Mockingbird. I had never read it, nor even seen the movie the whole way through. On reading the passage from Philippians above, it struck me that Atticus provides an excellent example of the kind of humility we are discussing here: indeed much of the book concerns his teaching this trait to Scout and Jem. One passage provides a good example. After the trial of Tom Robinson for the alleged rape of Mayella Ewell, Mayella's father waylays Atticus, spits in his face, and threatens him. Atticus just wipes his face and lets Bob Ewell rant. Atticus' only comment to his family on the incident is "I wish Bob Ewell wouldn't chew tobacco", but Scout and Jem are frightened for their father, and they urge him to take some action. They are convinced that Bob Ewell means to harm, or kill, Atticus. Here is Atticus' response to them (p. 249):

"Jem, see if you can stand in Bob Ewell's shoes a minute. I destroyed his last shred of credibility at that trial, if he had any to begin with. The man had to have some kind of comeback, his kind always does. So if spitting in my face and threatening me saved Mayella Ewell one extra beating, that's something I'll gladly take. He had to take it out on somebody and I'd rather it be me than that houseful of children out there."

In this passage we see an important point. Thinking of others in humility requires another difficult practice: empathy. We have to be able to "stand in Bob Ewell's shoes a minute" before we can even start to think about how to respond to his tirade.

Elevating others

The trip to Tennessee was to attend my wife's high school reunion in Chattanooga. One of the other alumnae there is now a doctor--let's call her Jane--who perfectly exemplified another aspect of humility. Just as one does not need to think less of oneself to practice humility, one also does not have to lower oneself. We can achieve the same effect better by elevating those around us.
One event from high school concerning Jane stood out in my wife's memory, and she shared it at the reunion. While an enthusiastic volleyball player, my wife was not very consistent. But in one game she achieved an incredible block at the net, winning the point. Jane rushed up and avidly congratulated my wife. As a newcomer to this small-town school, having previously only been in Department of Defense schools, my wife had until then felt like an outsider, unseen by the long-formed cliques. But with that one act, she finally felt welcomed. It's significance is borne out by the fact that she remembers it so well after all these years. Jane's humility was expressed by lifting up the other members of her team. And I saw more of it at the reunion. As another alumnus said goodbye to Jane, she took the opportunity to thank him for all the kindness he had shown to a schoolmate on the baseball team who had physical and mental issues. Through his kindness, the schoolmate had felt himself an important part of the team. And in drawing attention to his act of humility in lifting up a disadvantaged teammate, Jane again showed her own humility. She consistently celebrated the good in those around her.
Let's take this issue of humility one radical step further. It is the fourth of July, and while it is not always the case that what is the best policy on an individual basis is also the best policy on a national basis, perhaps we could try some national humility. That doesn't mean burning a flag or complaining about Congress, because it is not necessary to hold the country in low esteem to be humble. Rather, we could celebrate the successes not only of our own country, but of other countries. For example, Myanmar (or Burma) has recently made extraordinary progress towards democracy, despite its many years under a military junta. And Germany has come a long way from the days of the Third Reich.
As I come to the end of this entry, FBI Director Comey has released a statement on the Bureau's recommendation to the Department of Justice not to prosecute in the case of Hillary Clinton's private email server. And right on cue my Facebook feed fills with hate-filled outrage. Meanwhile, on All Things Considered tonight on my way home, I heard about more hate fueled by the current presidential campaign: Jewish reporters are receiving death threats from some of Trump's supporters.

Credit: AP

We cannot ignore the hate. That is the message that Elie Wiesel has spent a lifetime telling us. But we can avoid becoming a part of the hate. We can think more about others than about ourselves. We can lift up the goodness in the people around us. And perhaps we can even learn to love our enemy. We can do all this by practicing humility--the cure for hate. We can do it in memory of Elie Wiesel.