America’s Next Top Disciple
Luke 22:24-28
“I have 12 beautiful girls standing before me, but I only have 11 photos in my hands. These photos represent the 11 of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Model.”
In the early 2000’s, I loved watching America’s Next Top Model. Even with my feminist leanings. One might even say that this show helped me refine my curiosity and rage about how women’s bodies were always up for discussion, always blank canvases to be made over, always props and tools to sell things and exploit everyone’s insecurities.
Still, I was fascinated. I loved seeing how the contestants would rise to the occasion of each week’s lesson. Yaya Dacosta and Eva The Diva BOTH won the tarantula photo to me.
And every week, I would subject myself to the suspense of the elimination scene. Who proved herself worthy this round? Who showed improvement, heart, skill, attention to the lesson, grace? Every round, we came closer to the prize. Over the seasons, the prize was often a magazine feature and a modeling contract at some incredible agency. For a model, such a prize could make their career.
Their performance was ranked by the judges who frequently had harsh words for the models. Such comments, of course, were written off because “this is modeling, this is fashion, you’ll hear worse on your actual go-see’s.” These contestants were subjected to otherwise odd comments about their bodies, their race, their ability to read and their family choices. All because, “this is how it is.”
Such was a difficult show for my own malleable middle-school self-esteem. I would oscillate, almost exactly like the fans that helped me create a robot voice, between feeling this show empowered me and feeling like I was not enough. I believed I was beautiful and tall and strong and yet somehow, I also believed I was too big. Too goofy looking. Too chubby. I believed I had the grace to do runway, but who would take a chance on my body? On my acne? On me? Over and over, I watched the show, hoping to see my favorites win and secretly wishing I could do the same.
And every week, the script was consistent.
““I have 12 beautiful girls standing before me, but I only have 11 photos in my hands. These photos represent the 11 of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Model.”
The mood music and the dramatic video angles began.
Who was “regarded as the greatest?”
Only the greatest can win. Only the most valuable can succeed. And the reason why only a few people can succeed is there are only but so many spots that come with the necessary resources.
It is the logic of scripted reality television. But it is also the stuff of our everyday life. Every day, people are encouraged to prove their worthiness, their specialness, their deservingness. Not because these are good things in and of themselves. But because special people get to survive. Worthy people get to advance. And deserving people get to succeed.
What kind of world is that?
This is where we find Jesus and his comrades. Except in this passage, Jesus is not getting ready to eliminate any of the apostles. Even though, as we come to learn, he had good reason to eject at least one.
At the table, a “dispute arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest.” The passage we have does not record exactly what was said, but we can imagine what that sounded like. How many of them felt pressure to rattle off their resumes and CV’s? Some of them may have pointed to their photos (or articles, or sales, or commissions, or projects, or books, or cases) from the week and said “I’ve made the most growth!” Perhaps one said, “I’ve got the most reach!” And maybe one of them argued, “I’m the most authentic!” “I’m the most handsome!” “I’ve been here the longest!” “I’m the most well-connected!” “I went to the best school!” “I’m owed this!” “I work the hardest!”
On one hand, I empathize. We live in a world where the myth of scarcity is the rule. Capitalism teaches us that we must be the best in order to get the furthest. We must “grind and hustle” while everyone else sleeps. When you’re good at what you do you can justify a higher salary, and you can afford a home in a “nice” neighborhood. Whatever that means. When you’re a great at what you do, you can have a beautiful home in a neighborhood that has several grocery stores with fresh produce, accessible parks to play in, clean air, and healthy water. After all, there are only so many beautiful homes and only so much clean water.
We measure worthiness by the things we have acquired, the awards we have been given, the vacations we can take.
But this is a myth. Resources have been hoarded by an elite few at the expense of the many. And power seems to be consolidating.
On the other hand, I’m disappointed in the disciples. How long have y’all been spending time with Jesus that you really think he’s going to entertain “name the top five disciples of all time” discussions? Have you not been listening? This is not the first time an argument of this kind has arisen among them. Way earlier in Luke 9, the same freakin’ argument pops up. And after that specific argument, Jesus says,
“But Jesus, aware of their inner thoughts, took a little child and put it by his side, and said to them, “Whoever welcomes this child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me; for the least among all of you is the greatest” (Luke 9:47-48 NRSV).
We’ve already been through this debate. The fight has already been squashed. Jesus said, at least twice according to this narrative, that the greatest is the one who welcomes the children. Welcoming children requires patience, humility, compassion, gentleness, creativity, and imagination. The same muscles we use to care for children are the same muscles we so desperately need.
More than anything, Jesus rejects the category of “greatest.” He knows that these arguments about “the greatest” are tools of White Supremacy, although he may not have called it that in those days. But he knows that these arguments are “lorded over” people by “kings.”
He rejects lists. He resists ranking because anytime we rank, someone will be left out. And being left out might be “the way things go” sometimes, but being left out should never determine our ability to flourish. Too often in this world, being overlooked or forgotten means that we cannot have our needs met. Everyone deserves a safe place to rest, healthy food, and opportunities to rejuvenate. Everyone.
The whole point of the World We Have is to set a select few up for success while the rest of prove we should be included. It’s the fuel inside racism, ableism, sexism, cisnormativity, heterosexism, transphobia, Islamophobia and so many other forces. It’s the logic that keeps us from seeing these systems as connected and mutually affirming.
Jesus’ ministry was one that ran behind the one forgotten sheep, the one lost coin, the one excluded. Can you imagine how much freer we could be if our necks were not trying to justify the hustle? If we didn’t have to be “a beast” at what we do? If, instead of working and hustling and grinding, we could spend a few hours drawing comics under the trees? Imagine how much kinder we could be if we didn’t believe that being a “boss” and “leaning in” made us more worthy of a better life? Who would be liberated if we stopped believing that we “earned” the right to sleep in a safe neighborhood or “worked hard” for our reliable car?
Here is your homework. Take time today to notice the world around you. Are there lists and ranking systems around you? Are those systems creating healthy communities or are they encouraging existing hierarchies? Who is being uplifted? Who is being left out? Why?
Jesus begs us all to notice these things. Instead of chasing the title of “the greatest disciple,” let us chase Christ’s lesson. Meritocracy is a sham. There is room for all at Christ’s table. May we all make room.
Minister Candace Simpson is a sister, preacher and educator. She is the former site coordinator and current staff developer of the Concord Freedom School, a literacy-based social justice education program for children in Bedford-Stuyvesant. She is a graduate of Trinity College and Union Theological Seminary. Currently, Minister Simpson is an independent consultant, working with non-profits and churches to develop Christian anti-oppression learning experiences. She is also an associate minister at Concord Baptist Church of Christ in Brooklyn, New York. It is Candace's philosophy that Heaven is a Revolution that can happen right here on Earth. She invites people to participate in that philosophy at Fish Sandwich Heaven, an online resource for dreaming a freer world.