Humility and discipleship

Jesus “sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him’ “ (NRSV, Mark 13:13)

When Jesus went to Jerusalem for the feast of the Passover, he knew with absolute certainty that his enemies would bring about his judicial murder.

They had probably worked out the details after the raising of Lazarus from the dead, but the arrest itself needed careful handling.  Jesus enjoyed some measure of popular support, not only locally as a result of the raising of Lazarus (John 12:12, 17-19) but also among the pilgrims from Galilee who were in the city in strength; and any attempt to make a public arrest was likely to spark off a riot.

That was something which the chief priests wanted at all costs to avoid because, with nationalistic feeling running high in the tense and excited atmosphere of the festival, a riot could all too easily flare up into a complete breakdown of law and order.  This would turn the streets and lanes of the overcrowded city into a battlefield as the Roman security troops moved in with their protective shields and drawn swords.

In public and by day Jesus was safe enough in Jerusalem.  Danger came with darkness, and so each evening he left the city with his disciples.  They spent Palm Sunday night at Bethany (Mark 11:11), and the following three nights they bivouacked in the open on the Mount of Olives (Luke 21:37; Mark 11:19).

The danger, however, would become acute as soon as the traitor Judas knew the address of the house where it was proposed that they should eat the Passover, because by law this house had to be within the city.  But Jesus needed that house for the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday night.  In that way the institution of the Eucharist would not only be invested with the solemnity accorded to the Passover, but would also be indelibly associated with the Passover itself and all that it symbolised.

It was so imperative to Our Lord that he should be safe from arrest until the Last Supper was over, that he went to elaborate lengths to prevent Judas from discovering beforehand the address where it was to be held.

Jesus had made a secret arrangement with a householder for an upper room to be placed at his disposal, and for a guide to be posted at the city gate to meet Peter and John on Maundy Thursday when, at their Master’s request, they went on ahead of the rest of the disciples to make the necessary preparations (Luke 22:8).

The two disciples would be enabled to recognise the guide and follow him through the crowded streets because he would be carrying on his head a jar of water, a task almost exclusively performed by women.  They were to follow him to the door of the house which he entered and give the following password to the householder, “The teacher asks you, ‘Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ “(NRSV, Luke 22:11).   The householder would then show them a large upper room, already furnished, where they were to prepare for what was to be the Last Supper.

All went according to plan, and Peter and John remained at the house until the evening when Jesus came with the rest of the disciples.  In that way the secret of where they were to assemble was kept from Judas until the last minute and that was due largely to the man with the jar of water: he was an essential part of the plan.  Without him Jesus might well have been arrested before he had time to institute the Eucharist.

And yet, apart from this incident, we know nothing about him, not even his name.  He suddenly appears, faithfully does his humble duty, and as quickly disappears.  Among the great names of the Passion narrative he goes unnoticed – just an ordinary, trustworthy man who served Jesus in a very humble fashion by bearing a jar of water.

And in that respect he represents the great mass of Christian men and women through the ages.  This thought forces itself upon one’s mind when one turns over the pages of an old parish register.  Among the long columns of names are devout communicants and self-sacrificing mothers and fathers who brought up their children to be loyal Church men and women.  Yet we know nothing of them.  The registers contain no record of their discipleship: that is written only in the Lamb’s book of life.

And the same is true of the history of the Church.  We read only of the prominent figures, worthy and unworthy, and we are apt to forget that behind them all, century after century, were the humble, obscure disciples, faithfully serving their Master in their own little corner in life.

Yet, more than anything else, it was the quiet witness of those unknown people who perpetuated the Christian Faith and changed the pagan heart of Europe and made it Christian.

So today, the majority of faithful Christians are virtually unknown: there is nothing spectacular, nothing even impressive about their discipleship, but it is they who form the Church.  Yes, our discipleship will for the most part go unnoticed and certainly will not be long remembered in this world.  And, if it is to have any value, it is necessary that we should not wish it otherwise.

That was a lesson which the Apostles had to learn and they found it a difficult one.  On more than one occasion they argued among themselves as to who was the most important.  And Jesus answered their question for them, “…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.  For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve…” (NRSV, Mark 10:43, 45).

When we come to Jesus to be his disciples we must love and desire him for his own sake; not for what we can get from him, whether it be help or comfort or anything else.  So also we must serve him for himself alone, just because he is our Saviour and our God.

And yet so much Christian discipleship is spoilt by the ignoble desire that it should be known.  Are we not all tempted to be dissatisfied if some piece of work, which we have done “for the Church” as we say, and very likely taken great trouble in doing it, goes unnoticed or unappreciated?  Few of the services we render are free from the desire to gain personal credit, otherwise we should never mind if we never got any.  Emerson, the American essayist summed it all up when he said,”If you would be known to do a thing, never do it”.

What we must do as disciples must be done from the right motive.  It must in the first place be done for God and that means it must be humble service.  We shall never fully learn humility in this life but it is a quality which is at the heart of true Christian discipleship.  As St Augustine says, “You aspire to great things: begin with little ones.  You desire to erect a very high building, think first about the foundation of humility.  The foundations are always sunk proportionately to the intended height and weight of the building”.

Humility is a much misunderstood virtue.  Many think of it as weak and spineless, too lacking either in courage or convictions to protest against injustice or wrong.  But humility really consists in looking at life and at oneself from God’s point of view, instead of from one’s own, and in acting accordingly.  St John Baptist was a truly humble man.  That was why he denounced King Herod to his face without having any personal motives of his own.  He was just doing God’s will.

Humility is seeing the obvious – or rather what ought to be obvious.  Humble disciples recognise that they are dependent on God their Maker for everything – their talents, their abilities, indeed their very existence.  It is as plain as daylight to them that every worthwhile thing they do reflects no credit on themselves.  It is just a gift which has come to them from the hands of God to whom they owe their very selves and their very lives.  Thus humility puts people in their proper place in relation to God.

So St Paul punctures the empty bubble of self-conceit with his pointed logic, “For who makes you different from somebody else, and what have you got that was not given to you?  And if anything has been given to you, why boast of it as if it were something you had achieved yourself?” (1 Corinthians 4:7) (1)

When Christians are activated by unChristian motives in what they do for the Church, sooner or later they will give themselves away by taking offence; whereas humble disciples do not bother about whether their services become known or if they remain unknown.  In fact, they prefer the latter and, as far as they can, they see to it that their left hand does not know what their right hand is doing.

If we serve God in order to attract notice to ourselves and to receive the thanks and commendation of others, and to enjoy the warm glow of self-esteem, then we are just getting in God’s way.  On the other hand if we love God for his own sake and serve him for himself alone, without the conflict of unworthy motives, then he is free to work in us effectively and in his own way.

And we do not have to be important people for him to do that.  As St Paul wrote to the Christians at Corinth, “Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful…But…God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong…so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (NRSV, 1 Corinthians 1:26, 27,29).

And St Paul ends by saying that God “is the source of your life in Christ Jesus”, therefore ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord’ (NRSV, 1 Corinthians 1:30,31).

For in the end the most important thing about disciples – indeed the only important thing – is that they are true friends of Our Blessed Lord.

Reference

1. Phillips, J.B. (1960) The New Testament in modern English, London: Geoffrey Bles.