One year shortly before I began my “teen” years – I was probably around 11 or 12 – I started wanting to fit in with my peers more. One meager step I took to try doing this was by jumping on the bandwagon of what was the hottest fad at the time: parachute pants. For those who don’t remember, parachute pants were a (mercifully) short-lived phenomenon in the early 1980s; they were made of a nylon of the sort used in parachutes (hence the name) and generally had lots of zippers . . . most of which weren’t functional. They were designed for breakdancers, another ’80s phenomenon that’s tough to summarize. Anyway, I’m guessing I jumped on the bandwagon toward the tail end, because my pants, while still having the prerequisite too many nonfunctional zippers, were made of a more sensible material – probably cotton.
Anyway, proud as I was of my back-to-school purchase, I quickly discovered that my peers were not as keen with my foray into coolness. Suffice it to say that I was not cool, but was mocked rather badly. That was a long day to wait for the bus trip home, and I never wore those pants again.
How much have you modeled your life to please or impress the world around you? How much have you striven for things that you may not have necessarily wanted, because it’s what others have insisted would make you more complete or acceptable in their eyes?
It’s a question that came to mind as I reflected on today’s readings. In the Gospel Selection from Matthew, Jesus addresses the two sons of Zebedee who were his disciples, explaining that the request that they sit on Christ’s left and right sides in Heaven was not his to grant, but belonged to his Father. Jesus then points out something fundamental to understand Christianity: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave. Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
But what I find interesting about this story is that the request of the two brothers didn’t come from them. Rather, it came from their mother. It’s curious to consider what their mindset was. Were they merely going along with their mother’s wishes, or were they eager at the opportunity? They clearly go along with it to some extent – they respond in the affirmative when Jesus asks if they can “drink the chalice that I am going to drink” – but, again, we can’t say if they were eager for this or just acquiescing to a beloved parent.
In a way, it doesn’t matter. If we attempt to sate our earthly desire for wealth, power, or status because of our own innate drive, that’s still about the same as if you covet those things due to pressure from family, spouse, or peers.
The Lenten season is a good opportunity to remind ourselves of how different the path that Christ taught is from what the world expects. Pretty much every element that the world teaches as vital is of lesser – or even no – importance to Christ. Money, authority, fame, prestige – at best, these items are tools to help bring about the Kingdom on Earth. Authors like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien used their authorial gifts – and the prestige it granted – to give insight to Christian ideals to millions in a secular world. Catholic business leaders have used their acumen to keep people employed, give to charity, and provide positive role models to the community.
But, even for those people, they must fight the temptation to think of the secular world as an ending, rather than a waypoint on an unfathomably longer spiritual journey.
And for the rest of us, we need to remember that Christ’s words spell hope and reassurance for those the secular world would call failures. As the beatitudes remind us, those of this world who have the worst of it are the most blessed, as theirs is the Kingdom of God.
I was a social pariah through most of my childhood up until my next-to-last year of high school. That’s the year I just stopped caring what other people thought of me, doing what I could be authentic to myself. At that point, ironically, I became popular. Of course, by that point, I didn’t really care. Being true to myself and my beliefs was more important than what the physical world tried to convince me was important.
It’s a lesson that Jesus taught millennia ago, and it’s one that’s vital for us to internalize if we’re to get closer to God, to Heaven, and to being the people who Christ calls us to be. This Lent is a great time to reflect on that lesson, and to internalize what we would ask of Christ if we had an opportunity to do so . . . or, as the case may be, what we would want our mothers to ask of Christ.
Today’s Reading’s: Jer 18:18-20; Ps 31:5-6, 14, 15-16; Mt 20:17-28
