"The Ordinance of Humiliation"
By A. W. Spaulding
RECENTLY I asked a student what the church called the practise of feet-washing. She said, "The ordinance of humiliation." Not infrequently is it so called and so felt to be. What is the difference between the ordinance of humiliation and the ordinance of humility? The difference is just this: If I wish to be servant to my brethren, I meet this ceremony as the ordinance of humility; but if church discipline compels me through fear or pride to be servant to another, I regard this act as an ordinance of humiliation. Humility dwells within, humiliation assaults from without; humility leads, humiliation drives; humility builds up, humiliation crushes. To Jesus the act was according to the ordinance, the law, of humility; to Judas it was a humiliation. To him who maintains his pride of position or worth, the duty of a servant must forever be a badge of humiliation. It does not follow, however, that the ordinance of humiliation must humble the proud. To the proud novice it may be a bitter medicine; but the proud old church-member has learned to capsule his religious quinin with the thought that he is performing a recognized rite of the church; and he is proud of his regularity, proud to be so humble. The real test of humility comes just as it came to the disciples, in the daily duties of life. Washing the feet was to the disciples that Sixth-day evening no ordinance of the church; it was simply the work of a servant, a lackey, a scullion. And to-day I shall find other menial16tasks which represent far more fairly to me the test of humility put upon the disciples. I know a little boy who would rather bring in wood than wash dishes, because "washing dishes is girls' work;" I know a woman who will not learn to milk a cow, because the task might sometime fall on her. A man of my acquaintance leaves his work-clothes and hat lying around, because his wife has a better knack of straightening up than he, and he never was intended for a housekeeper. I may find the fever-stricken patient an onerous care, because I can not bear the sick-room; I may let tools rust in the field, because their care belongs to another. I may keep my seat in the easy chair when father comes in, because I got there first; I may leave mother to clean up the dirty baby, because he isn't my baby. I may neglect to sew on buttons, or shine shoes, or press clothes for another, because nobody does those things for me. I may refuse to read aloud to an importuning friend, because I hate to read aloud, and can't read well enough anyway; I may leave a stupid pupil with only a half-understanding of a lesson, because the task of teaching him is a thankless one. I may think the dirty little cabin with frowzy-headed children and slatternly father and mother a hopeless case, and offer no helping hand; I may see a brother doing wrong, and meet him with coldness and frowns and censure, rather than with cheer and help. And if I am compelled, by force or by a sense of duty, to do any of these things, I do indeed pass under the ordinance of humiliation. But if my love of Christ and of souls who may be won by the work of a servant blots out my selfish pride, I can rejoice in the ordinance of humility. And only he who does these menial duties as the Greatest of our brethren did them, can participate in the true spirit in the church's ordinance of humility.