I think it started when I was issued a Hill Pass—the ID badge that grants access to the Parliament buildings and all the perks therein. It was hard not to smirk as I bypassed security with the flash of my badge and went straight for the elevators, casting a glance (likely more pretentious than intended) at those shuffling through the metal detector.
Somewhere between attending elegant catered receptions and joining federal ministers for drinks at the posh Hy’s Steakhouse, an attitude of self-importance was growing in the heart of this young intern.
As current LLC students, we follow a legacy of alumni who have earned a favorable reputation on the Hill. We have placements that span the political spectrum and entertain house guests such as the Honorable Peter MacKay. Our vanity is affirmed when our faces show up in the local newspaper Hill Times or when Justin Trudeau remembers our names.
Yet, at varying stages of our internships, students such as myself come to a realization about our actual smallness and many imperfections. An LLC alum currently working on the Hill likened our eager lot to “batteries:” full of energy and quite expendable. A couple of us realized with dejection that our intern security passes were a different shape than others, proclaiming to the entire Hill community our temporary and subordinate status. No amount of status-faking can turn a vertical Intern pass into a horizontal one.
Occasions to practice humility only increased. Shortly after deciding I was pleasant on the phone, I called Roméo Dallaire’s office and left a detailed message. All was well until the end, when I inexplicably said “Amen” instead of “Goodbye.” Then the first time I attended a reception by myself I absently said “thank you” in response to a man’s introduction. I simply winced and decided it was irreparable.
I’m reminded of Job’s reflection on our meager state: “If the stars cannot be found pure in His sight, then how much less man, who is a maggot, and the son of man, who is a worm!” My vanity was exposed as being truly ridiculous—not only, I’m sure, to the Hill community—but in the eyes of God.
I imagine Him saying kindly to my quickly deflating ego, “Do not be afraid you worm Jacob, you little Israel” (Isaiah 41:14). God acknowledges our lack of prestige and wants us to do likewise. True humility is found in identifying ourselves with the lowliest of things while at the same time recognizing our value as His image-bearers and as His children. This is just one of the unexpected lessons I’m learning along the way, and I’m sure there’ll be more.
