The twelfth degree of humility is that a monk not only have humility in his heart but also by his very appearance make it always manifest to those who see him. That is to say that whether he is at the Work of God, in the oratory, in the monastery, in the garden, on the road, in the fields or anywhere else, and whether sitting, walking or standing, he should always have his head bowed and his eyes toward the ground. Feeling the guilt of his sins at every moment, he should consider himself already present at the dread Judgment and constantly say in his heart what the publican in the Gospel said with his eyes fixed on the earth: "Lord, I am a sinner and not worthy to lift up my eyes to heaven" (Luke 18:13; Matt. 8:8);and again with the Prophet: "I am bowed down and humbled everywhere" (Ps. 37:7,9; 118:107). Having climbed all these steps of humility, therefore, the monk will presently come to that perfect love of God which casts out fear. And all those precepts which formerly he had not observed without fear, he will now begin to keep by reason of that love, without any effort, as though naturally and by habit. No longer will his motive be the fear of hell, but rather the love of Christ, good habit and delight in the virtues which the Lord will deign to show forth by the Holy Spirit in His servant now cleansed from vice and sin.

I have disputed a bit with Benedict. Today I am troubled again by, "feeling the guilt of his sins at every moment."

But I fully accept the great need to be grounded in God: to be humble.

I acknowledge that I should listen more and speak less.

My great task is to know God's will and make it my own, not just knowing God's will but being obedient to it.

I value patience and persistence. I know the power of confession. To be content with what one has is a profound spiritual gift.

Self-critique and self-awareness are necessary steps in handing over to God my many sins and failures.

Joining with others - believers and non-believers both - I may do my part in healing a wounded world.

I have argued most when Benedict has commended an earnest, even dour, self-discipline. I know the value of discipline and do not discount it.

But - as Benedict observes above - discipline is but the gravel atop the ground. The ground's depth is experienced in "love of Christ, good habit and delight in the virtues."

Humility is, it seems to me, mostly an ever-present sense of exuberant thanksgiving for all of God's gifts: pain and pleasure, doubt and faith, struggle and success, and super-abundant love.