Who Is The Greatest?

Luke 22:24-30 (ESV)

“A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. And he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise Lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the one who serves. You are those who have stayed with me in my trials, and I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

On the night of the “Last Supper,” the disciples entered the banquet room and, as John records it, did not wash their feet as they entered. As they were sitting around an argument broke out from among them about which of them was the greatest. Jesus responded with the scripture found at the beginning of this post. One of my favorite passages in all of scripture is verse 26. “Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves.”

During my second year teaching I met my son’s God Father, Matt. Matt and I taught three classes together that year and it did not take long for us to become very close friends. One thing I always found Matt talking about was the idea of servant leadership. Robert Greenleaf, a modern supporter of servant leadership, put it this way, “Do those served grow as persons? Do they, while being served, become healthier, wiser, freer, more autonomous, more likely themselves to become servants?” This very idea, now used as a leadership philosophy in modern businesses, was emphasized thousands of years ago by Jesus himself.

This past week I had an opportunity to help lead a group of middle schoolers on a servant mission trip to Bentonville, Arkansas, a community that was ripped apart by a tornado about a month ago. I cannot describe to you the pride that I felt for the group of ~45 kids we took down. They slept on hardwood floors in a fairly old Methodist Church building in town. They worked through extreme heat advisories (regular heat indexes over 100 degrees) to build wheel chair ramps, decks, and porches, power wash and paint houses for people whom they had never met before. They packed their own bag lunches for the job sites. They were thrown into uncomfortable situations all week, with people they had never met, and, all things considered, rarely complained.

These kids exemplified every aspect of the term “servant leadership” during this trip. Being the chronic over thinker that I am, I couldn’t help but to sit and reflect each night on the work those kids had done that day. One story in particular that I’ll never forget involved our “neighbor” that we were painting a house for. She was 14 years old, the same age as most of the kids I was working with. She and I were painting together toward the end of the week and I asked her about the “Bible Camp” she had talked about attending the week before. She did not say anything about the camp, and instead started talking about our kids and asking about our church. In the middle of the conversation she offered, “I was shocked at how normal these kids are. The kids at my church aren’t like this.”

You could probably interpret that multiple ways, but this is how I heard it: “Your kids don’t have to act differently to exemplify Christ. Being a ‘Christian’ is a preprogrammed part of who they are and it’s a refreshing experience.”

Too often I feel like doing the right thing, leading by example, serving, etc. becomes a weird cliché for Christians. Like we somehow have to alter the tone of a conversation in order to bring up a story that involves our faith. As if somehow doing right by others is an automatic sign that something is up. The question, “Why are you being so nice to me?” is the most painfully ironic question you could ask another human being.

Let’s circle back to John going out of his way to record that the disciples did not wash their feet before entering the banquet room on the night of the last supper. Any guesses who stepped up and started washing feet? I can feel secondhand embarrassment for the disciples as Jesus took off his robe to begin washing their feet. I’ve heard it theorized that the reason none of the disciples stopped to wash their own feet was because they knew that Christ would expect them to then wash the rest of their feet as well. So what does Jesus do? He gets down on his knees and starts washing the feet of his closest friends. But even Jesus wasn’t immune to people asking why he was being so nice. Later in John, we find Simon questioning him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?…You shall never wash my feet.” Thousands of years ago, a man in the presence of the Son of Man could not accept an offering of basic kindness and servitude. As if somehow that made Christ below him.

One of my favorite things about the Methodist Church is their commitment to servitude. The church I attend specifically does “Serve Saturday” every month to give opportunities for service in the community. The call for service comes directly from Jesus Christ, the man Christians claim to follow and love. It’s not that all Christians must serve in an act of volunteering on the weekends, or on mission trips during the summer, but we are all expected to serve our neighbors in whatever capacity we are able to depending on our current stage of life. The middle schoolers we took to Bentonville last week got an opportunity to learn to lead by becoming one who serves. Hopefully we too can find opportunities, big or small, near or far, to serve a neighbor on a regular basis. Because that very act is what makes us great.