Getting Humble

“Hey -  I wanna be first. Let me in line. I deserve to sit next to the chief after all the stuff I’ve done for him, with him, as I pass generous donations under the table. Look, it’s my time for recognition. I want to be on his right hand, the blessed side, the holy side, the one that goes up while those on the left hand go down to fire and fury.”

If you have studied the Tympanums over the crusade cathedrals in Europe, it’s one side or the other getting into the Kingdom of Heaven. The good guys go up on the right side, the bad guys are dumped down on the left side. Mark, chapter 10, deals with the issue of who is on first, so to speak, on the right side.

Yet, do we get what this disciple was saying to Jesus? I want to be your equal? I want everyone to see that you like me best. Doesn’t pride go before a fall? Jesus had much teaching to do within his group.

The disciples, especially James and John sons of Zebedee, and their mother, didn’t get it. Jesus is about service, not glory, about sacrifice, not fame, about pain, not gain. They failed to realize that it’s not about them and their futures, but it is about working together, about carrying on a message, about knowing Jesus the Son of God. Did they realize really the magnitude of who Jesus was?

It may have been a man thing. It’s our human pride, our competitive nature to be better than the next one. Even today in a gym - if someone is running on the machine next to you, you are going to instinctively run faster, just trying to be, although not always being, better for a second than someone. How often walking on a beach in the early morning, I’ve tried to out-fast-walk someone just because I’m old and they were young, and I needed to know that I was still fit. It’s a secret thing. Maybe self-satisfying.

True, we know the twelve apparently often argued often among themselves as to who was the greatest. This does not speak well of humility, of servanthood, of being there for Jesus as he needed them, or training to be missionaries or disciples in order to spread the faith, to share the love they should have learned by now. It was what Jesus had tried to teach them day in and day out, not only by parable and experience, but by example. And yet, they still did not get it.

I’m sure Jesus must have shook His head with disbelief and disappointment. He asked them, patiently if each one of them was able to drink the cup that He would have to drink, or to be baptized with the baptism that He had experience, that of self-emptying love - of giving all of himself to do his Father’s will. I doubt they could answer that.  Jesus never asked for nor expected rewards. He hoped for understanding and love. But you cannot force that on anyone who has his head and heart in some other zone.

I don’t think the group around Jesus understood the question - as they quickly snapped, “Sure, I can drink of the cup.” John and James were seeking favor, priority, greatest-ness rather than understanding and supporting what Jesus needed and requested in the moment. I feel His pain. I hope you feel His pain. Apparently in the beginning, his closest associates were only looking for gain and not pain. And it is really ironic that James and John thought they were sufficiently worthy to sit on either side of Jesus - had they forgotten Abraham, and the founding fathers, or Elijah, or the many maestros and teachers and Samuel and Solomon who came before and tried to put the kingdom on the right road? 

We now know Jesus came to give His life as a ransom for many. A ransom was what was paid to release a captive or the cost of freedom for a slave. It’s ironic - but I love it - that when Jesus was crucified, not only was there no golden crown, but instead a crown of supposedly 72 thorns piercing his scalp, (preserved in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris), but also, on each of His sides were criminals, thieves, no-do-wells, hanging on the exact same style of wooden cross. One greedy. One humble. And both have gone down in history, one as a complainer, the other as gracious believer.

Because I believe all humans have the light of Christ in them, this authenticates, for me, working in prisons with what the world calls the worst of the worst. But there is so much goodness and hope and talent and love behind those metal walls and iron bars where everyone wears the same uniform, the same plastic flip-flops, and has to get a guard to open the door, if one merits stepping out into the pod or annex.

If everyone is awesome, on top, a success, who does the dishes, who goes last in the grocery line, who defends the police when they must shoot a vicious criminal, who takes care of the bodies of those killed by bombs, by tornados, by cancer, by controllable viruses?  Who has the self-confidence to offer a gentle response to someone spitting in his face angry insults and threats? Who understands that we are all equal and need to love each other whatever our color, our face, our intelligence, our job, our experiences, our faith? Who are you?

To accompany Jesus, to spread his word, to love him, requires one thing - dedicated service 24-7, a service that has minimum or no reward or glory or fame, but allows the prisoner, the common man no matter what the color of his skin, or the language on his tongue, to know in his heart he is doing the right thing. And believe you me, when you are rewarded by a tough prisoner with a smile or a humble thank you, it means more than all the power and glory on this earth.

I guess the highest honor I’ve received in the bowels of 201 Poplar, where I love all those guys in artichoke green uniforms and wild hair, was from one giant African-American prisoner with gold teeth who always looked like he would jump a guard or even me. He was a bit slow, and always watched me intensely.  One day I was in a little room off the pod that we use for programs, the door was open, and he walked by and saw me there. He stopped, smiled - and he pointed at me as if he had a gun in his hand, and said: “You are good.”

I couldn’t ask for anything more, for any other reward, for any other sign of hope or love, for the privilege of sitting beside Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.

 ~ Rev
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audrey@audreytaylorgonzalez.com
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