The eCrozier

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody – Bob Dylan

When I was a child I often wondered about the life I’d have when I grew up, what I’d end up doing with my life. Being a bishop of the Church, by the way, was never a part of that. It just never occurred to me. As children, we all dream of what we’ll be when we grow up. Often those dreams are rather grandiose: we’ll become a professional athlete, or a doctor who cures cancer, or a famous movie star. I’ve always found it more than fascinating that people who believe in reincarnation never seem to have been mere cobblers or maids in previous lives. They always seem to have been more exotic people like kings or queens. As children, we dream of greatness in some form some day, at least as our culture defines greatness.

Our human desire for greatness, or at least to have a lasting name for ourselves, is related to the fear that our death will be our end. It’s not entirely rational, of course, but it’s still real. It’s an avoidance technique. But our fear of death also makes us servants, not of God, but of whomever can promise us a denial of the truth of our existence. Politicians, advertisers, and, yes, preachers regularly tell us that if we don’t heed their guidance, we’re dead. Not dead literally, but metaphorically, as in the academic sense of “publish or perish.” For students, “if you don’t get above this SAT score, then you’re dead.” Or politically, “if the candidate doesn’t win in New Hampshire, she’s dead.” Or in sports, “The Reds still have a chance to make the postseason (I can dream), but they must win their next series or they’re dead.” Dead, in this sense, means a loser. Death, after all, in our culture is for losers. Death isn’t for the great. It’s for the insignificant.

Recall Shelley’s sonnet, Ozymandias, whose empire covered the known world of his day:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away

Ozymandias is long dead. Nothing remains of his great empire, except a small part of the huge statue he had created. Shelley’s sonnet exposes the futility of those who want to see themselves as great, for like everyone else, the “lone and level sands stretch far away.

The disciples struggled with this issue of greatness. They were mostly poor fishermen who before meeting Jesus had no hope for greatness. They’d die as unimportant people. But as they followed Jesus and the crowds grew, their egos expanded. So, they argued about “who among them was the greatest.” When Jesus asked about the topic of their argument, they fell into a sheepish silence. Jesus then used that opportunity to tell them the true purpose of all human life. It has to do with whom we serve, and not who serves us. Human life isn’t about receiving honor or fame or power. So, the question really can’t be avoided: Whom are we serving these days?

+Scott