How rare she is, this strong
and capable woman, the one who has it all – and notably, does it all: runs the
household from before dawn to late at night, runs her international business
the same, so that nothing can harm her or her household.
Everyone respects her family and
they look fabulous, too. Neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor bullies nor famine
nor anything else can scare or deter he. Structural sexism can’t stand in her
way. She’s buff. She takes generous care of everyone in need. She is a great
boss and employer as well as outstanding wife and mother. Sheryl Sandberg has
nothing on her.
And I’m exhausted just saying all that.
Only a few quirks of
vocabulary prove that this portrait was drawn about twenty-five centuries ago,
instead of twenty-five minutes ago. This looks so much like the idealized hyper-achiever
that has a strong hold on the public imagination in our world: not just about “women
who have it all”, but successful men, too. This is the image, conscious or
otherwise, that ties so many of us to our cell phones and emails while we’re
working and parenting or grand-parenting twenty-four seven.
This ancient poem looks a lot like the image that lives in the implied
stories of today’s magazines and best selling business books and in employers’
imaginations, and that none of us are.
No matter how successful and
competent you are, I promise you
can’t keep up with this woman.
There’s a reason for that.
This strong woman, this woman
of valor, isn’t us.
She’s God.
This woman of character, whom
the Book of Proverbs tells righteous young men to seek out, is not me or you or
any of the girls in their neighborhood. Lady Wisdom is the God those biblical
young men – and you and I – are supposed to seek with all our hearts: to follow,
commit to, to love and give ourselves to.
This ancient poem is not a
job description for us, it’s a love letter from God, full of the joy and wonder
and grace that God provides for those who love and commit to her.
Nowhere does it say that you
or I are to imitate this valiant woman. The only instruction given to the seeker
of wisdom, to the one who wants to draw close to God, is to give her a share in
what she has given you, and to praise the one who does all this.
In other words, we don’t have
to have it all.
God has it
all for us.
And that’s what the disciples
were forgetting, that day or week on the roads of Galilee, when they were
talking to each other (but not to Jesus!) about which of them was the greatest.
They’d forgotten – or they’d
missed it the hundred times Jesus taught it to them before – that God isn’t
looking for the greatest. God doesn’t award first prize – not to anyone, ever.
Jesus isn’t looking for disciples who can have it all, do it all, be it all.
Because God has it all for
us.
For us.
God doesn’t hoard greatness
for God’s own sake; God has all this greatness for our sake, to care for and share with and benefit us. As if we were
the household – the employees and servants, the children and spouse, of that
generous, competent, extraordinary, valiant woman whose praises we are invited
to sing.
That’s why there can’t be a
“greatest” among the disciples, can’t be a “greatest” among us, can’t be any
difference in discipleship status between our gifted, inspiring, exciting
Presiding Bishop preaching to the world, and a toddler whose parents never
bring him to church chattering and fussing through the lovely solemn quiet or
competing with the sermon.
No difference, Jesus tells
his disciples, between that child and God’s own self. Because we don’t have to
earn or compete toward greatness. God has all the greatness we need, and has it
for us.
I hope that comes as a relief.
Not just for any of us who’ve been trying to achieve greatness, or have it all.
But also for any of us who’ve been trying to nudge or push or coax or force others
to be greater: trying to get our kids or spouses or volunteer helpers to be more
frequent church attenders, greater leaders, or higher achievers.
God has all the greatness
they need; as well as all we need, and has it for us.
So we can let it go.
We not only don’t have to
achieve it for ourselves, don’t have to exhaust ourselves and struggle with
others in running after it all; we don’t have to hold on to it for ourselves,
either. We can let it go.
That’s the other thing Jesus’
disciples mostly haven’t figured out yet – both in the story Mark is telling,
and in most of our present-day lives. That’s why they’re confused when he tells
them that the Son of Man is going to be turned over to the government, killed,
and rise, and that whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of
all.
They haven’t w\understood yet
that the Messiah doesn’t need to
avoid the humiliation of crucifixion in order to preserve God’s greatness in
the world. And that we don’t need
Jesus to win over the government to protect our greatness. Because it all
belongs to God.
We don’t need to win first
place. We don’t need to protect our position – don’t need to fear losing wealth
or respect or independence or athletic achievement or academic success or
number of Twitter followers. We can hold all that lightly and give it away in
service to others, because it’s God’s greatness, not our own.
We don’t have to protect any
of that for ourselves because God has more than enough greatness for us – each
and all. Enough greatness for when we come in last, lose it all, or give up the
race; especially when we send others
ahead of us.
And yes, sometimes the
greatness of God that’s poured out on us is pretty painful. Like crucifixion,
sometimes God’s greatness is a sharing in the pain of the least-deserving, and least-respected.
Sometimes God’s greatness is the grinding daily work of serving the oppressed and
living as the marginalized. And God welcomes us – those first disciples, you
and me – to share in that odd and excruciating greatness, because it is God’s greatness, and because in
sharing that, we also find that God is pouring out generous care, love and
strength and beauty and confidence, pouring out all that we can have when we
have it all, on us. On all God’s household.
And all God asks from us is
that we receive those gifts of greatness: all glitter the world admires and all
the humble strength and service that God loves. And that we have it all and share
it all, not on our own behalf, but because it is what God has given us, and
praise the giver.
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