The Dreaded Ego

Many years ago I went to a wedding and took a date. At the reception I introduced my date to one of my friends. My date then went to the restroom while my friend and I chatted. He said, "Your date is very pretty." I replied, "Thank you." And he laughed. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. Why did I say "Thank you?" All of a sudden, my date became a trophy piece. I was devastated.

Everyone has an ego. There's the healthy ego, of course, where we recognize our self-worth. And there is the dreaded ego - the idea that the world revolves around me. No one can escape the dreaded ego.

Ordained by the Dali Lama

During my PhD studies at the Graduate Theological Union I traveled to New York for a meditation conference. I was part of a small group of practitioners and scientists who came together to learn about the latest research and network. I remember having a very enjoyable conversation with a Tibetan Buddhist. He was an American by birth and a physician by profession. And I thought his path to Buddhism was interesting. And then he said something that stopped me in my tracks. He said, "I was ordained by the Dali Lama himself." I wanted to say, "So what?" I'm sure it was a great moment for him, to be ordained by the Dali Lama, but all I could hear was the attachment. Of course, I didn't say anything. After all, I said "Thank you" when Steve mentioned that my wedding date was pretty.

Insight from the hermitage

I used to listen to a lot of tapes of spirituality talks and conferences (this was well before the age of podcasts). A Catholic priest gave a retreat at a monastery. Prior to the retreat, he stayed on the grounds at a nearby hermitage. During the conferences to the monks (which were recorded), he often referred to his journal entries he wrote during the stay at the hermitage. All I could hear was, "Listen to this insight I had; here's another insight I had. Oh, and you'll really be amazed at this insight I had." Usually, quotations are taken from acknowledged spiritual teachers who happen to be dead - St. Benedict, Bernard of Clairvaus, St. Teresa of Avila, etc.

It's the same thing

I'll end with a redemptive story. A friend of mine, Joe, was celebrating his first mass. In Catholicism - at least in America - after a priest is ordained, he will have a "First Mass", usually at his home parish. It's a time of celebration with friends and family. This mass was in a rural town of 6,000 people. At the time of communion (giving people the wafer that is supposed to be bread and offering the cup of wine), one of the concelebrants (a priest who was not the presider but still dressed in liturgical garb and standing at the altar) came to distribute communion to the back of the church.

In the Catholic Church, communion takes place at or around the altar, a big table in the church. Essentially, it is an altar call. Believers come to the altar to receive communion but also to re-commit their baptismal promises of being a Catholic. Sometimes, however, when the church is large and full of people, distribution of communion is broken up. The presider and a few others distribute at the altar while other distributors go the half-way point in the church or even to the back. It's a practical action but liturgically it stinks because those people are no longer coming forward to the altar.

One of Joe's grandfathers was at the back of the church, in a wheelchair. Family members usually receive communion from the new priest, so when another priest came to the back of the church, he said to the grandfather, "Joe will come back here and give you communion." To which the grandfather replied, "Why? It's the same thing you have, isn't it?"

We're not special. We are unique, but not special. We have a unique contribution we can make to society, maybe even the world, but we are not special. We're not special because of a pretty date. We're not special because we were ordained by the Dali Lama. We're not special because we had an insight in a hermitage. Acknowledging we are not special is a step toward taming the dreaded ego.