Bigger Fish to Fry

"Bigger Fish to Fry"--April 24, 2017

"Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know--this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law.  But God raises him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power." [Acts 2:22b-24]

I had a poster on my wall for a few years as a kid, that had Garfield the cat (right? I know--I was so totally cool as a ten-year-old...) standing in front of a cartoon Lamborghini, helicopter, mansion, and a cascading fountain, with the implication of even more status symbols behind and all around the rotund orange cat with the big eyes.  And Garfield's speech bubble says, "The one who dies with the most toys in the end... wins."

We've all seen that sentiment somewhere or another in the course of our lives, too.  Sometimes it is put just that explicitly, and sometimes it is more subtle.  We are constantly surrounded by voices that tell us, either directly or suggestively, that you "win" in life by having more toys... or trophies... or signs of achievement... or money... or (go ahead and fill in the blank). 

Now, here's the hitch in all of this.  I'm willing to bet that most of us who are even half paying attention to Jesus will recognize this notion is as a desperate lie when it's put in stark terms.  When it's Garfield the cat saying it on a kid's poster, we all can spot the lie and can say, "No no no!  It's not true--you don't "win" if you've got the most toys when you die!"  We are probably sharp enough to offer that corrective you sometimes hear people say, too:  "The one who dies with the most toys in the end... still dies."

And that is exactly right.  Death has a way of equalizing people--rich or poor, powerful or helpless, respectable or infamous, the ones with a championship ring on every finger and the ones with empty hands, too.  When the world's attitude is put in its most cartoonishly exaggerated form (say, with an orange-black talking cat in front of a sportscar), we are adept enough to spot that it's all wrong.

But... we have a harder time when it's put more subtly.  We have a harder time seeing the same logical problem when it comes to the less explicit ways of expressing the same sentiment.  Even though we may be well aware that we can't take our toys, our technology, or our trophies with us... we still make an awful fuss about racking them up in this life, don't we? 

Take this, for example.  I see a lot of criticism around (and I get it, I do) for the modern phenomenon of kids playing sports who all get a trophy.  There is this great outcry against "participation trophies," and seriously I have seen and heard folks decry the everybody-gets-a-trophy practice as a symptom of "what's wrong with our culture" and people who give out trophies to all the kids on the t-ball team as teaching kids that hard work doesn't matter since everyone will get a prize in the end.  And sure, I get it.  Nobody wants to raise up a generation of laziness or entitlement.  For that matter, I don't want to see my own kids bringing home so many pieces of cheap shiny plastic trophies that we have no place to put them.  I get it.

But, in all seriousness, I just don't think that criticism of "participation trophies" goes far enough, really.  When we get upset that "everybody gets a trophy" we are still acting like trophies matter!  We are still subtly reinforcing the whole notion that "the one who dies with the most trophies in the end is the real 'winner' at life" and that "the one who dies with the most toys in the end is the winner."  We seem to get so hung up on the meaning of a kids' little league trophy that we invest a lot more meaning in the cheap gold-tinged plastic than it's really worth. 

If we are wise enough to recognize the fallacy when it's put starkly on a Garfield poster, can we be wise enough to see the same silly logical flaws when it's handing out trophies at little league or the spelling bee?  Could we be the voices who say, "You know what--the trophies just don't matter... ever?"  Could we instead teach our kids that hard work and determination matter in and of themselves, regardless of whether someone gives you a prize for it or recognizes it?  Could we instead model a humility that says, "I just don't care about getting the prize, or the statue, or the new title at work, or the special recognition at the fancy awards ceremony with the mediocre appetizers and plastic cutlery?"  Could we be people who see from beginning to end that a life lived seeking after trophies at all, is still falling for Garfield's fallacy but just in more subtle ways?  And could we dare to raise our kids differently--not obsessing over whether trophies are given just to the "winners" or are given to everybody--because we realize that can't water down the worth of something that's worthless to begin with?  Maybe we'll stop shaking our angry fists on the internet like an old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn while we fuss about "those people making our kids soft by handing out participation trophies" and seeing instead that all that fuss is still reinforcing the lie that trophies matter at all--and the further lie that the reason to work hard is to "get" a prize for doing it, rather than just doing something well and diligently because it is worth doing?

At least, I want to suggest that this is the way followers of Jesus will come to think about achievements and trophies in life, because of the way the New Testament itself talks about Jesus' victory in the resurrection.  In these words from Acts, we hear that Jesus' resurrection is a victory against the real threat that held power against us: death.  Jesus didn't care a lick about getting recognition, having status, looking like a winner, or doing what everyone else thought a "winner" should do.  He was--and is--free that way.  And instead, Jesus turns our attention to the thing that really matters--the breaking of the power of death.  Jesus takes our little slogan yet a step further.  Jesus reminds us not only that "The one who dies with the most toys and trophies in the end still dies..." but takes us a step further to see that "The real victory is in the One who has beaten death... and that victory doesn't depend on award certificates or gilded statues for our mantelpiece.

Today, part of what resurrection means for us is freedom--freedom from all the stupid and tedious games the world is still playing.  We don't have to fuss about who gets a trophy--not in kids' little league, and not as grown ups vying for attention at work or with our neighbors--because we know that there's no winning or losing to be found there.  In a world where trophies and toys all go in the trash bin eventually, we can be free from fussing over them because we know that the real victory has been accomplished already in the resurrection.  And from there we will work hard and diligently on what matters--because it matters.  We have bigger fish to fry than getting trophies or toys--we have learned from Jesus what really matters.

Lord Jesus, free us today from fussing about recognition and free us to do what matters with our lives.