The Gospel Of Humble

 by special guest columnist David Brooks


In times past—what some may call rather disparagingly, The Good Old Days (as if there were some sort of irony, mayhaps even a tragic, ridiculous pathos in gazing wistfully and nostalgically to a time in which the implied nostalgitizer never lived and thus has never experienced--and which even more ridiculously no longer exists); in those times, there was a blessing.  It was known as Humbledom—a realm ordained by Heaven Itself.
Humbledom was the realm in which all Americans dwelt (in those days, of course).  Yes, they came here, and there was a spot of pillaging here and a bit of genocide there, give or take a civil war and a dash of slavery.  But all in all we can be sure of one thing: Throughout the pillaging, the stealing of land, the slavery, the subhuman status accorded to those of African descent, the overt racism against Jews, Catholics, Scots, Irish, Germans, Muslims, Native Americans, Asian immigrants, Latin Americans, a very un-civil war, and some Johnny-come-lately international colonialism, there was one important factor: Humbledom. 
We Americans retained our humbleness; continued to dwell in the realm of Humbledom; and retained our domiciles in Humbleville (regardless of how petty, unimportant and bleak our existences might be).  No one tried to rise above their station, for they knew that this would conflict with the Heaven’s Laws.  (Did they include humility? You betcha!)
This is why there was a Revolution, the Civil War, the war over Texas, etc. etc. etc.  No one wanted to shake the boat. Humbledom. 
Regrettably, this has all changed now.  Robber barons once were humble men, dwellers of Humbledom themselves. I’m guessing when they named buildings after themselves, God told them to do it.  (So much easier to find a building that has a name and not just an address.)
But things now are different. Robber barons have outsize egos to match their fortunes.  Now they do more than simply steal—they brag about it! (cf: Snoop Dogg.)  Somewhere between firebombing Dresden and carpet-bombing Hanoi, we lost our way. We fell from grace. We were tossed out of the Garden of Humbledom, and now our address is no longer in Humbleville but Metown.  Unlike those times when we could lynch black men with impunity for allegedly staring at your unattractive wife because you’re embarrassed that she just let herself go and decided to fatten up like a Holstein, or own slaves, or write laws to prevent undesirable brown people from immigrating into our country (no matter how hot Salma Hayek may be)—those days of wonder when we innocently dwelt in that blessed Garden—now we are fallen. Our egos have swollen like bedbugs fattened on blood, our lips our stained red with sin, and our bodies are as fat as are egos. 
But we can be thankful for one thing, America: I’m here.  And I can point the way back.  Just read my columns.
(Note to self: Do not look in the mirror.)
As I noted previously,
Op-Ed Columnist - The Gospel of Wealth - NYTimes.com

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