Follow the Leader

A few years ago, I was speaking with a mom who was considering enrolling her daughter in Kumon, an after-school math and reading program that I run.  I asked her 6-year old daughter what sport or game she liked to play.  I do this to draw a connection between the importance of practice in getting better at a favorite sport with the importance of practice to get better at reading or math.  As frequently happens when speaking with young children, her answer was not exactly what I had planned on.  She said her favorite game was “follow the leader.”  Okay, we’ll go with that.  I asked her whether she preferred being the follower or the leader.  With a large grin, she exclaimed, “leader!”  

Don’t we all?  If I had my druthers, I’d much rather be the leader than the follower.  Yet, I also know that I can only be the leader is a very limited sense.  In reality, I, along with every one of us here, have to follow someone or something.  The real question is not whether I lead or follow, but whom or what will I choose to follow?

Not many people have had better reason to consider themselves as a leader than John the Baptist.  People flocked to him from all over Judea to be baptized by him and to listen to him preach.  Even many of his apparent adversaries recognized and respected his holiness.  Yet he knew he was a follower and he knew exactly who he was to follow:  “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world… this is God’s chosen one… who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” (Jn 1:29-34)

Is my own choice that clear?  Have I decided to follow Jesus as unequivocally as John?  On most days, I’m sad to say, the answer is no.  Perhaps, it’s more complicated than that.  How do I even know if I am following Jesus?  What can I do to be a better follower? 

Again, John the Baptist has an answer.  A bit later in John’s gospel, we hear his final testimony to Jesus.  Some of his disciples seem to be complaining to John about Jesus, who seems to be “horning in” on John’s ministry.  John’s reply was simple:  “He must increase, I must decrease.”  (Jn 3:30)

Are my actions, my attitudes, my relationships with others directed to increasing my own stature, my own security, or my own pleasure?   Of course, that pretty much describes how I spend most of my time.  Ouch.  But if I can make just little breaks in that self-seeking, self-centered life, perhaps all is not lost.

For example, the kids at Farmingville Elementary, where Mary teaches kindergarten, save the flip tops from aluminum cans for charity.  Now, being the math nerd that I am, I figured out how many of those flip tops you would have to save to even have a dollar’s worth of recycled aluminum.  It’s a very large number.  One of those tops is worth only a tiny fraction of a penny.   Wouldn’t it make more sense, be more efficient, to just write a check out to the charity than to go to the trouble to remove the top and remember to give it to Mary for the school?

But for me, the act of saving the top is so much more important than the money.  When I take the top off the can, Jesus reminds me that there are others whose needs are much greater needs than my own, others that I must pray for, others I must serve.  And the more times I can break into my self-centered routines and be reminded that my own increase is not important at all, the closer I can be to following Jesus, the Lamb of God, who died to forgive my sins, who loves me with an infinite and unconditional love, who leads me to everlasting life.

He must increase, I must decrease.