The Greatest by Stephan G. Oetjen
Reprinted by permission
of "The Arlington Catholic Herald"
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Mark wrote to explain
Christ
to the new Gentile converts.
Often,
being famous doesn’t seem all that it’s cracked up to be. I speak, of course,
from observation and not
experience. For
example, the rich and
famous are frequently plagued by paparazzi or crowds, and
security and privacy
are perpetual issues. With
fame, living
a normal life – let alone a purposeful and dedicated life – gets
tough.
Our
Lord certainly knew this well in our Gospel today, as we hear he
sets off to
Galilee but doesn’t want anyone to know about it. Why the stealth
mission? Fame.
After Jesus has performed a cycle of miracles and
authoritative
preaching, there is now talk of making him king, or at least a
prophetic
miracle dispenser. Yet,
Jesus came to be
neither a political figure nor a performer, even of healing
wonders. He came to
bring God, freedom from sin and
death, and
divine life for our souls.
Thus,
Jesus sets off in secret The
crowds,
paradoxically, distract from his mission in their hunger for
temporary
blessings rather than eternal goods. As
an aside, it’s useful to note that there’s always a difference
between “crowds”
and “disciples” in the Gospels.
Only
disciples will inherit the kingdom.
Jesus doesn’t want an audience, he wants friends.
Along
the way, it must have been clear to Jesus that his disciples had
been infected
by the views of the crowds, too.
He
levels with them: “Look guys, I’m not going to be a king or
famous
performer. They’re
going to kill
me. I’ll be dead
for three days, and I’m
going to rise again. That’s
the mission.” Even
when Jesus is direct, they still are
confused. What
could “killed,” “dead,” and
“rise” possibly mean? We
laugh, but
2,000 years later, Christian believers still argue about similar
things. What could
Jesus mean by “this is my body,”
for instance?
Rather
than ask for clarity, they continue to argue about who is
greatest. Jesus
sets them straight a second time.
He who wants to be greatest must become
least. Notice: just
as the Lord breaks
and inverts the conventions of worldly power and influence, so
too is it with
his disciples. What
makes us great
Christians is not posturing or bravado, trophies nor treasure.
In fact, by itself,
all our humans striving cannot make God love us more or earn a
greater piece of
salvation. Rather,
to be great in the kingdom
of heaven is to be humble in the sight of the world, to receive
others as
children of God and to be received as such in turn. Even kings and
emperors effect no change in
heaven without the help of God.
The meek
and poor in spirit gain an inheritance.
Behind it all is a truth: only the way of the cross is
the key to
heaven.
A
favorite vivid example of this comes from the funeral ritual of
the
Austro-Hungarian Empire. It
was last
seen with the passing of now-Servant of God Empress Zita of
Bourbon-Parma in
1989. After the
funeral Mass, her
procession wound through the city of Vienna, passing thousands
of mourners, to
the Capuchin Church, which contains the Imperial Crypt of the
Hapsburgs.
Shockingly,
when the procession arrives at the churches, the door is shut
and barred. A
family member pounds on the door, to which
a Capuchin friar on the other side responds: “Who goes there?”
“Zita,
Queen of Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia, Slovenia, Galicia, Queen of
Jerusalem. Grand
Dutchess of Tuscany Cracow
…” An impressive
list of titles as long
as your arm.
The
respond comes back: “I do not know her.”
Pounding once more and once more: “Who goes there?” This time: “Empress of
Austria and Queen of
Hungary.” The quiet
response from the
other side of the door: “I do not know her.”
A last knock brings the same question: “Who goes there?” This time the answer
is meek and simple:
“Zita, a poor sinner.” With
that, the
door is unbarred and sung wide: “Welcome, enter.” Thus, she entered into
rest in Christ. Like
Zita, when we bow low, God raises us
high. The kingdom
belongs to just such
as these: redeemed sinners and not worldly successes, disciples
and not crowds,
those willing to receive blessings with childlike wonder and
gratitude and thus
be called children of the most-high God.