Aspiring to Greatness

(Bread Cast Upon the Waters)

Introduction

The sons’ request

In Mark’s gospel the two sons of Zebedee, James and John, approach Jesus saying, “Master we have a favor to ask of you” (Mk 10:35). Some time before, Jesus promised that when he comes into his glory, his twelve apostles would sit on thrones and rule the twelve tribes of Israel (Mt 19:28). So now the two sons of Zebedee ask Jesus the favor of sitting one on his right and the other on his left when he comes into his glory. He exclaims, “You don’t know what you’re asking! Sitting on thrones of glory is for those who drink the bitter cup of sorrow and are immersed in a baptism of suffering. Are you ready for that?” “Oh, yes we are,” they answer (Mk 10: 35-37).

When the other ten apostles hear about James and John’s self-seeking request, they are annoyed. So is Jesus. He straightens them all out about greatness saying, “I tell you, kings and so-called great people of this world like to lord it over the others. But it must not be that way with you. Among you whoever aspires to greatness must be the servant of the others” (Mk 10:37-43).

The mother’s request

In Matthew’s gospel, however, it’s not the two sons but their mother who approaches Jesus and makes the self-seeking request. Matthew writes, “Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her two boys and bowed before him and pleaded, `Dear Lord, please, please grant that these two boys of mine might sit on thrones at your right and left hand when you come into your kingdom’” (Mt 20:21). If it is the mother who’s making the request, then she’s sending the wrong message about greatness to her kids. She doesn’t know where their true greatness really lies and in all probability she doesn’t know where her own true greatness really lies. Jesus puts her and her sons straight: “Among you whoever aspires to greatness must be the servant of the others.” What a counter-cultural message for a world like ours where the name of the game is dog eat dog, and where people aspire to climb the ladder over the backs of others.

Cultural greatness

We recall the insane message about greatness which a Texas mother sent her daughter. She so badly wanted her daughter to get on the cheerleaders’ team that she schemed a plot to injure the mother of another girl who was competing with her daughter. She hoped that would so upset the girl she wouldn’t be able to compete successfully. Her insane plot was discovered. We recall also the insane message about greatness which a father sent his son. He beat to death the father of a son whose team won the hockey game which his son lost.

Instead of the gospel spelling out greatness for us (being the servant of another), we let the culture spell it out for us. Sometimes we even insanely pitch in and give the culture a helping hand.

Cultural greatness means striving to get a great education, a great job, a great home, a great car, and all the other great things that keep us up with the Joneses. That’s not all bad; life is about striving. Cultural greatness also means striving to become important people like doctors or lawyers or cheer leaders or hockey players. That’s not all bad. Cultural ecclesiastical greatness means striving to be the Cardinal Archbishop of New York City. That’s not all bad either.

But the cultural message of greatness is bad when it exhausts or depresses our kids or drives them to drink or drugs. Sometimes the message is even lethal when it drives them to suicide which puts an end to the race for a greatness which they didn’t want to run in the first place. Many sons and daughters, however, just simply grit their teeth and fall in line and join the race to cultural greatness with all the exhaustion, excess and emptiness it entails.

A few very wise sons and daughters, however, become impatient and angry at the culture and at their mothers and fathers for sending so much message about being a great doctor or a great lawyer or a great cheerleader or a great hockey player but so little message about being a great human being by aspiring to greatness by being the servant of others. They become impatient and angry at the culture and at their parents for sending so much message about having a great education, a great job, a great home, a great car but so little message about having a great human heart by aspiring to greatness by being the servant of others.

Gospel greatness in Fr. Mychal Judge

Franciscan priest Fr. Mychal Judge aspired to greatness by being the servant of New York City itself! He was one of the four chaplains for the New York Fire Department, and the story of his death serving others was one of the first to come out of the tragedy of 9/11. He had taken his helmet off to give the last rites to a dying fireman when suddenly debris came crashing down upon him. He died there on the spot. His body was carried off to a nearby church and was laid upon the altar.

An article in the New York Magazine states he was both a recovering alcoholic and gay. In fact, he marched in the first gay-inclusive St. Patrick’s Day parade. The article describes him as very earthy and streetwise and as fitting in very well with the characters and chaos of New York City. In his own house, the church, he was controversial and very unconventional, holding Mass in the most unlikely places and frequently compelling a Monsignor in the New York Chancery to admonish him.

But what the whole City of New York remembers most about him and takes most to its heart, and what perhaps will be inscribed with italics in the pages of his canonization process, is that he aspired to greatness by being the servant of all New York City. He had an absolutely encyclopedic memory for people’s names, birthdays, and passions. He knew everyone from the homeless to Mayor Giuliani himself. A recovering alcoholic, he comforted alcoholics assuring them they weren’t evil people, but that they had an illness that needed to be cured. Though he was a true New Yorker, born and raised in the City, he lived on an entirely different plain of priorities than most New Yorkers. He wasn’t acquisitive. He wasn’t grabby. He was utterly unselfish and totally uncomplaining.

The media covered his entire funeral, and when a memorial was held for this tireless servant of others, an endless flow of priests, nuns, lawyers, cops, firefighters, homeless people, rock-and-rollers, recovering alcoholics, local politicians and middle-aged couples from the suburbs streamed into Good Shepherd Chapel on Ninth Ave., an Anglican church, to memorialize a Roman Catholic priest who aspired to greatness by making himself the servant of New York City.

Gospel greatness in a cowboy and cabby

Here’s another story about a sinner who was a saint by making himself the servant of others (they’re my favorite stories). Listen as he tells the story in his own words.

I used to drive a cab to make a living. It was a cowboy’s life for me, but I soon realized it was also a ministry--a chance to serve others. One late August night I was called to pick up someone at a small brick duplex in a quiet part of town. I thought it would be some party people, or someone who just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading for an early shift at some factory. I arrived at 2:30 A.M. The building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under those circumstances many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I saw too many poor people who depended on a taxi as their only means of transportation. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” answered a frail elderly voice. I heard something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman stood before me. She looked like somebody out of a 1940 movie. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

She got into the cab and gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?” “It’s not the shortest way,” I said. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she answered. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.” I looked into the rear mirror. Her eyes were glistening. She continued, “I don’t have any family left. The doctor says I don’t have very long to live.”

The cabby continues his story.

When she told me she was headed for a hospice, I quickly reached over and turned off the meter. For the next two hours we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse which once was a ballroom where she had danced as a girl. Sometimes she asked me to slow down in front of a particular building or corner, and there she would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first rays of the sun were illuminating the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.” We drove in silence to the address she gave me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. “How much do I owe you?” she asked me. “Nothing,” I said. “Oh but you have to make a living,” she answered. “There are other passengers,” I replied. Without thinking I bent down and gave her a big hug. As she held on to me tightly, she said, “Thank you. Thank you. You have given an old woman a little moment of joy.” I squeezed her hand and then walked into the dim morning light.

Behind me a door slammed shut. It was the sound of a life that was closing. I didn’t pick up anymore passengers that shift, but instead I drove aimlessly lost in thought. What would have happened if the little lady had gotten an angry driver? What would have happened if he had just honked once and then driven away? What would have happened if I hadn’t served this little lady whose life was flickering? All of a sudden I found myself saying, “I don’t think that I’ve done anything greater or more worthwhile in my whole life.”

That’s the story of a cowboy cabby. Whether he knew it or not, he aspired to greatness when he turned off his meter and became the servant of a little lady whose life was flickering.

Conclusion

Bread cast upon the waters

Ite Missa est. Go, the Mass is ended, Go and aspire to greatness by being the servant of others. That, indeed, will make you great, as it made Fr. Mychal Judge great, and as it might even get him canonized. Go and aspire to greatness by being the servant of others. That, indeed, will make you great, as it made the cabby great, and set his heart exclaiming, “I don’t think that I’ve done anything greater or more worthwhile in my whole life.” Go, you mothers, raise good cheerleaders, but above all raise good daughters who aspire to greatness by being the servant of others. Go, you fathers, raise good hockey players, but above all raise good sons who aspire to greatness by being the servant of others. Raise sons and daughters like that, and they will become for you bread cast upon the waters. They will return to bless you when your time comes, and you are in need of a servant.