With All Due Modesty . . .

Winston Churchill was said to have remarked of Clement Atlee, “Mr. Atlee is a very modest man. Indeed, he has a lot to be modest about.” The jibe, I believe, became famous because of its penetrating power among those who--like myself, and you too, I’ll bet--would like to be famous not only for their talent but their humility about it all. Ouch! 

Along those lines, it was my niece, or perhaps one of my daughters, who once asked me if I was a famous man. Of course, one does wish not wish to deny it outright before the child, risking the pleasure of basking in her guileless adoration—and yet one wishes to show condign humility as well. After brief consideration I told her that I was well-known in a small circle of people. I thought this a clever answer, for it was both unquestionably true (of me and everyone else), but provocatively left the definition of “small,” and what I might be famous for, open. “Ah,” one hopes the innocent might conclude, “he’s being modest—for by ‘small’ he doubtless means, ‘small relative to the entire population of heaven and earth.’ ”

If I had been thinking in a truly humble way, however, I would have answered, “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter, for the only one whose opinion counts is God—he’s the only person one should care about being famous with. And I already know his opinion of me: he’s not impressed.” That’s also true, but on a higher level, bidding fair to keep those who believe it truly humble.

Merry Christmas, Friends!