The third step of humility calls us to submit ourselves to those who have been entrusted with leading us toward the love of God. Benedict tells us that we do this in imitation of the living Christ, who “became obedient unto death.”
At first, the instruction can sound almost simplistic: Obey the one who leads you.
But Benedict understood something profound about the human spirit. One of the hardest things we ever do is allow another person to teach us, correct us, redirect us, or show us a truth we would rather not see.
We readily seek God on our own terms. We are considerably less enthusiastic when God speaks through another human being.
Yet the spiritual life cannot flourish if I insist upon being my own final authority.
Humility therefore asks us to listen—to truly listen—to those whose wisdom, experience, and love may lead us farther along the road toward God. In Benedict’s community, the abbot or prioress does not replace Christ. Rather, the leader is charged with making Christ present: teaching, guiding, correcting, encouraging, and sometimes challenging us when we have become too comfortable with ourselves.
And therein lies the difficulty.
So often we stubbornly resist precisely those who love us enough to challenge us. We defend ourselves. We explain ourselves. We question motives. We cling desperately to our own judgment because surrender feels dangerously like weakness.
But there is another danger—the arrogance of believing that no one has anything left to teach us.
That road does not lead to freedom. It leads gradually to isolation.
The third step of humility invites us instead into contemplative consciousness: a quiet inner willingness to listen before answering, to seek understanding before defending ourselves, and to loosen our grip upon that persistent human hunger for control.
This is not servility.
It is not abandoning conscience.
It is not surrendering ourselves to unhealthy authority.
It is something far more demanding: the willingness to believe that God may speak to us through another person.
The great question becomes not simply, Do I agree?
It becomes:
What might God be asking me to hear?
Perhaps this is why obedience and humility are inseparable for Benedict. The humble person does not assume that every personal desire is sacred, every opinion correct, or every resistance justified. Humility leaves the door open.
And through that opening— grace can enter.
Sister Joan Chittister expresses the promise beautifully: “Once I'm able to do that, then there is no end to how high I might rise, how deep I might grow.”
That is the paradox of Benedictine humility.
We descend the ladder by surrendering our insistence upon ourselves—and discover that we are actually rising.
We relinquish power—and discover freedom.
We learn to follow—and discover Christ walking before us.
Lord, quiet the voice within me
that must always defend itself. Give me the humility to listen,
the wisdom to discern, and the courage
to follow when you speak through another.
Teach me to surrender not my conscience,
but my pride; not my dignity, but my need to control.
Lead me beyond myself, deeper into you. Amen.