29th Sunday of ordinary time. Today’s readings: Isaiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45
It may be surprising to many, especially those who are acquainted with images of martyrs or with the way the Church has affirmed the redemptive nature of suffering, that Christianity strongly endorses striving after excellence. Though the Church has preached penance, self-sacrifice, and renunciation, Jesus did not shy away from the beauty of greatness.
His early followers got the point. In 1 Corinthians 12:31, St Paul tells us to strive for the greater gifts: “But earnestly desire the higher gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way.” Later, he notes how hard he himself worked for the sake of God’s kingdom: “I have worked harder than all the others – not I, but the grace of God which is with me” (1 Cor 15:10). In a similar vein, he avers that “If anyone aspires to the office of bishop, he desires a noble task” (1 Tim 3:1). Christianity does not dampen our lives, but brings out the best of us.
He who forbade us from lusting after another person, or from coveting someone else’s goods, did not demand that we do not desire to be great or to be first. However, he also points to a particular course of action: “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all (Mk 10:43-44).”
Jesus said this following the request made by two young fishermen turned apostles, James and John, who showed they were vying for the two greatest seats of honour in the heavenly kingdom. The Lord told them to hold their horses. Our logic is often at loggerheads with the logic of God. Even though we are the children of God, the Christian life is not about easy promotions or preferential treatment.
The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness: The Path to True Christian Joy, by Tim KellerTim Keller’s The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness: The Path to True Christian Joy brings us face to face with how, too often, we place ourselves at the centre of our experiences. Thinking of oneself less (rather than thinking less of ourselves) is liberating and helps to focus more seriously on others. Jesus gave us his own example to follow: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mk 10:45). It is this same touching Gospel that I chose for my first solemn mass as a priest.
In some ancient creation myths, the gods fashioned human beings for these to serve them. In the Babylonian myth called Enuma Elish, the reason why the god Marduk made human beings was for them to do the work that the gods had been performing. The Son of God, however, turned that concept on its head, claiming that the deity had come to this world to do the exact opposite. While the gods demanded obeisance, sacrifices, and an attitude of servitude, God had come in the very person of Jesus Christ to act as our helper, our friend, and even our servant.
The Son of Man, a title reserved for the messianic figure who was to be sent by God, had come to touch bodily wounds, caress snubbed children, tread endless expanses of land to meet a dejected woman despaired by her daughter’s predicament, wash his disciples’ feet, and bear the heat of the noonday sun to renew the life of a woman whose heart was broken time and time again by empty promises of love.
And as though this were not enough, he surpassed all human imagination when he allowed himself to be stretched upon a cross and nailed to it, in order thereby to rid us of the burden and penalty of our sin. Could we possibly wish for a more humane God, a more loving deity, a more benevolent Creator?