As a meek elementary school student, I turned down the chance to run for treasurer of Student Council. In high school, I refused the position of managing editor of Tilden Topics. I argued that under the capable editor-in-chief Sam Roberts (who has since been a reporter, columnist and editor at The New York Times), we really didn’t need a managing editor. So I served as news editor, eschewing the larger leadership role.
When declining these positions, I thought of myself as humble – shy, quiet, small in stature and status. It turns out I had a narrow, inaccurate view of anavah.
In adulthood, I found a niche as a community volunteer and learned that anavah could also be translated as service to others, as responding to a call. So when one of my mentors in Colorado Press Women, Lea Flanders, “volun-told” me to serve as the group’s president more than 40 years ago, I made my first of many forays into non-profit leadership at the local, state and national levels.
It’s been a long and winding road from P.S. 233, and not always a smooth one. I’ve made my share of leadership mistakes and missteps and had many opportunities to be humble. And since I’ve begun studying Mussar, I’ve expanded my understanding of the larger meaning of anavah and its role in leadership.
Mussar teacher Alan Morinis defines humility as taking up the right amount of space, saying, “When Moses is described (Numbers 12:3) as being more humble than any other person on the face of the earth, and when God is described as being humble, we are forced to dissociate Jewish notions of humility from any connotations of meekness or diffidence….The ideal is to take up just as much space as is necessary to fulfill one’s mission of service in his or her life, neither more nor less.”
I used this concept of taking up the right amount of space as president of a nonprofit in Denver. I learned that while open-mindedness is important, there comes a time to make a decision and stick with it. When a board member refused to accept a choice I had made and harangued me with late night emails, I tossed and turned all night. Then I called him in the morning and firmly reiterated that I would stand by my decision and provided my rationale. He finally accepted the decision and although we didn’t always agree, we were able to develop a respectful working relationship.
Anavah in leadership also involves collaborating and honoring others. When our nonprofit received a grant I had written, I knew the entire team deserved the credit. While I may have had the initial idea, or led the effort, I could never have succeeded alone. To practice honor and humility, I have developed a regular routine of writing thank you and congratulatory notes. When I get too proud or possessive of an idea or accomplishment, I repeat the mantra, “You can get a lot done if you don’t need the credit.” (First attributed to a Jesuit Priest named Father Strickland in 1863).
Humility leads to integrity in leadership. Since I’m a perfectionist by nature, it’s hard for me to admit when I blow it. Yet I’ve learned it’s essential to admit mistakes if I want to create and maintain trust. On one board that I chaired, committee members became irate and threatened to quit because the board rejected their recommendation brusquely. We apologized and came up with a process to work more collaboratively, and after further consideration, we accepted their recommendation.
Humble leadership means working patiently with and learning from different personality types and learning styles. No matter what the organization, boards always seem to include people-pleasers, devil’s advocates, the unprepared, processors, data gatherers, campaigners and sometimes narcissists. Rather than get impatient with a board member who asked to postpone a decision about moving a bank account until we gathered more information, I thought about what I could learn from his measured approach. As Rabbi Ira Stone writes, “The practice of humility requires us to view each person we encounter as our teacher and to struggle to learn something from each person." *
And perhaps the most important anavah lesson I’ve learned as a leader is to accept criticism with humor and equanimity. In the words of the Greek philosopher Epictectus, “If anyone tells you that a certain person speaks ill of you, do not make excuses about what is said of you but answer, ‘He was ignorant of my other faults, else he would not have mentioned these alone.’”
Shy, quiet, introverted? Not so much anymore. Humble? The practice of anavah is an ongoing part of my journey to take up just the right amount of space.
*Rabbi Ira Stone in A Responsible Life, The Spiritual Path of Mussar
An important piece. And beautifully argued