Graceful Humility

In America, we are not very good at being poor.

We are quite good at not staying poor; that is one of the core concepts of our national mythos.  Steinbeck is reported to have said:

Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat, but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.

The attribution and exactness of the quote is disputed; but that it has been repeated often enough to be (possibly) misquoted is merely evidence in its support.

To be American—that is, to aim for the values that Americans hold dear, to not merely be “a good American” but good at being an American, to exemplify American-ness, is to seek to be wealthy.

Once we’re wealthy, to our credit, we do OK.  Americans are very generous, and even our most wealthy tend to overindulge in proletariat pleasures (houses and vacations) rather than make attempts at immortality through patronage.  “American art collector” is something of an oxymoron, or at least a New York thing.

We’re not perfect, and essays can and have been written on the havoc that can be wrought by our generosity and egalitarian aspirations, but this really is one of our strengths.  Progressive over-charity is bad; but it’s at least a virtue distorted rather than an uncomplicated evil like open, vicious pride of wealth.

So.  We’re good at getting rich, and we’re good at being rich.

Are we good at being poor?

I don’t think so, and I think this is both obvious when thought about, and highly troubling afterwards.

Consider the phrase: “I am but a simple man, sir, but honest and true.”  Is that an American utterance?  Doesn’t it sound like it belongs more to a medieval romance, or a German fairytale?

If you’re American and poor, virtue consists of honesty, hard work, thrift…in other words, of trying not to be poor.

Shouldn’t it be enough to simply be virtuous?

America is about a lot of things, but two big ones are money and God.  While we’re not so big on God anymore (though relative to most of Western Europe, we at least say the words), we’re definitely still about money!

What does our consolation for the poor look like?

First, we’re charitable.  Which is of course good.

Second, we do in fact try to help the poor escape poverty.  How to do this is a matter of much disagreement, but at least no one is making the argument that we shouldn’t try.

Third, we teach that there is honor in non-material things.  Oh, wait, we don’t.

Maybe we say the words.  But for American culture as a whole—including much of Christian culture, which by default will be American culture without correction—wealth and respect are tied.  I have trouble coming up with an exception.  Perhaps the Amish?

This is actually not that bad when everyone is rich.  A social pattern I’ve noticed in myself goes something like this:

Speaker 1:  I am awesome because of x, y, and z.

Speaker 2: Oh, hi, I’m not really that awesome.

Speaker 1: YES YOU ARE.  Do you do a?

Speaker 2: No.

Speaker 1: Do you do b?

Speaker 2: Well, yeah.

Speaker 1: B is awesome.  Therefore, you are awesome.  We are both awesome.

 

On the face of it, this is really quite an innocent interaction.  Speaker 1’s intentions are good.

The pattern fails, however, when there is nothing particularly noteworthy about Speaker 2.  Worse, should Speaker 1‘s fortunes take a dark turn, despair is not merely imminent, but logical.  Hold your head high by merit, drop it in shame by merit.

This is basically the American pattern.  It is, to our credit, responsible for a lot of material wealth.  But it is also why people are dying of opiate addiction in small towns and why the marriage age is rising even in chaste men and women.

Here’s how the conversation ought to go:

Speaker 1: Hi.

Speaker 2: Hi.  I’m not really that awesome.

Speaker 1: Who cares?  God will provide.  Come over for a barbecue.

The barbecue makes it still American

Regarding small towns and opioids:  does society have a model for the honorable poor?  I don’t think we do.  The RighteousⒸ thing to do is leave.

Regarding the marriage age: attraction lives and dies based on the man’s self-confidence.  Among the chaste, he certainly won’t be getting that from his sexual conquests.  What other traits has he been taught to respect in men?  So often he gets it from his ability as a provider.  Which, for young men, is going to be predictably…subpar.  And par is what matters, because how do you measure material wealth if not relative to others?  Thus the rich marry and poor don’t.

A useful exercise:  What does “successful poor” look like?

Peace

My grandfather was dying.

He had been for years, really.  He got sick at about sixty and stayed that way for the next twenty.

My dad, one of eight children, went to his side.  My grandfather was in and out of consciousness, so there was not much conversation.

After some time, my dad went to leave.  But first my grandfather grabbed his wrist with his bony arm.

“[My dad’s first name],” he said.  “You’re a great man.”

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The word “great” implies a certain context.  It’s larger, longer.  The reason that jokes like “Yes, this will go down as one of the great sandwiches of history” are funny is because “history” implies hundreds or thousands of years, which is not a sandwich-friendly timescale.

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Religion is often referred to as a “faith,” but it is, additionally, a work.  People talk about “God’s plan for my life,” but: do God’s designs start at birth and end at death, like millions of unconnected, episodic TV shows?  Surely divinity is capable of a grander design.  Perhaps God isn’t really concerned with your life in particular at the moment: are you (and am I?) doing your part to fulfill His plan for someone else’s life?

To be religious is to be a foot-soldier; to be committed to a cause larger than oneself.

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I am fortunate beyond measure.  In the late nineteenth century my great-great-grandfather left his homeland for his religion—four generations later, I can think of him, and everyone in between, cheering me on.  We are, and have always been, on the same side.

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It is fun, and easy, to indulge one’s pride over lip-service to a cause; fun can be and is made of this in media with priggish types protesting that “My family has ______ for generations!”  But when you actually believe it, you start to wonder: do I measure up?  Were I to die, could I do it with the serenity of Theoden?

This is the context in which my grandpa grabbed my dad’s wrist and told him that he was a great man.

A kinder deed, I have trouble imagining.