Pride and Disappointment

I got a good lesson last night in humility, and I’ve been mulling it over ever since. So I’m just going to jot my thoughts down here, in case they are of use to anyone else.

My church has a fundraiser every other year. It’s a Broadway revue with lots of challenging singing and somewhat complex choreography. For a mostly amateur ensemble, the show is technically and vocally challenging. We also have a fabulous director who’s not afraid to push us a bit, but who also knows when to back it down a notch.

Our director is also good about doling out the peaches: the very desirable high-profile parts. He’s fairly even-handed about assigning solos and duets, and creating smaller ensembles within the larger group.

I’ll admit that I was slightly disappointed not to have a solo this year. But there was some relief as well, because my voice has been … problematic … this year, and I don’t want to risk its breaking up mid-solo and wrecking the number. So it was not an envious disappointment, but more the disappointment of my own limitations holding me back. And I still enjoy participating in the production — as long as I can sing, I don’t worry too much about how visible I am.

I was pleasantly surprised last week to be asked to sing in a trio, which will be very nice and will allow me to regain confidence in my voice and the power of technique to overcome my body’s stupidities. But I am straying from my point.

Last night, several of us arrived early to rehearsal. I was sitting quietly in a corner when one of the younger members (I will call her Daisy) came in and began talking with me. She said that she was planning to ask the director if she could have a particular solo. I said, “Oh, I am sorry, but he assigned that at the last rehearsal.” She asked who had gotten it, and then said, “I’ll bet it was Bambi.’ She gets all the good stuff.”

I was shocked, and replied, “But Bambi has a beautiful, strong voice, and she carries the responsibilities well. And several other people have one or two special parts.” But I was thinking: “You have missed at least five rehearsals, and I remember you telling us that you might not get to be in the performance because of a possible school conflict … so why would you think for a minute that the director would give you a leading part? If you aren’t sure you’re going to be in it, and you’re not going to faithfully attend rehearsals, then of course you’re not going to get the lead. The director’s not dumb enough to take that kind of risk!”

And Daisy replied, “Yeah, but it’s not fair for her to have two or three good parts, and I don’t even get one.” A few minutes later, she wandered over to talk to another member of the troupe, and when she said she wanted that solo, that person also told her that it had already been assigned. Again, the pouting, “that’s not fair” attitude.

Now, I chalk a lot of this up to immaturity. Daisy is very young, and I think it takes a lot of experience to accept that not everyone gets to play Juliet. Someone has to be the nameless, faceless peasant in the crowd.

But I was amazed that, after rehearsal, Daisy asked the director point-blank and right in front of everyone if she could have this one solo that she wanted. And when he said that it had already been assigned, she began to protest. He simply said, “I’m sorry, but that is what happens when you miss rehearsals.” Laid out here it sounds rather harsh, but he said it kindly, and not in a rude or hurtful manner.

The whole conversation got me to thinking how insidious and cruel pride can be. I’m sure Daisy didn’t recognize that it was pride that spurred her even to ask for a special part. Especially when two of us had already told her that the part she wanted was taken. (My own rule of thumb is that I will never ask, but I will never say “no.” No matter what hopes and aspirations I may have, it is better to be invited to fulfill them than to ask and be rejected.) I’m also pretty sure that Daisy didn’t realize the naked envy that was revealed by her comment about Bambi. It was not very pretty.

But the other thing that struck me was that her pride got her in the cruel situation of being publicly turned down and having a fault publicly addressed. Pride is cruel. Pride does not just go before a fall, it also leads you directly into the valley of humiliation. And that is a place no one wants to be.

Tags: character, church, envy, fundraising, humiliation, humility, jealousy, Philosophy, pride, Religion, True Stories