A Reflection for Tuesday of the Second Week of Lent
“The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
Of the many ministries I’ve had the privilege of contributing to, my time as chaplain to a college volleyball team stands out. Like any other chaplain, the spiritual care of the team was my responsibility. None of the players had ever had a chaplain before, and most were unfamiliar with the term, but they welcomed me and came to appreciate my presence. As one player put it, “You’re kind of like the team mom…but a priest…almost?”
I’ll take it.
Functionally, my role consisted mostly of conversations over coffee outside the gym, the occasional cookie drop-off before the team traveled for an away game, and even some pre-match handshakes that consisted of fist bumps and the sign of the cross. I prayed for the players by name every day, sat on the bench at games and even helped out at practices.
For the players who practiced a faith, we would talk about their prayer lives. For others, we would talk about their mental health or navigating the excitement and exhaustion of college life. What I came to love most about this ministry was the privileged opportunity I was given to witness the subtle yet profound growth taking place in the lives of these student-athletes.
As the chaplain, I came to know these players in a way different from the coaches, trainers and other staff. I had the privilege of hearing more deeply about what was going on in their lives outside of volleyball, and while many times wonderful things were happening, players were also often carrying a lot. Knowing the difficulties they were working through, their resilience became apparent and made it all the more rewarding to see them excel on the court.
One of these moments came to mind as I sat with today’s readings. It was senior night for the team, with added pomp and circumstance to celebrate our players who would be competing in their last home game. The stands were more packed than usual, with scores of friends and family holding signs adorned with the seniors’ names and faces. Yet, despite the excitement, the team was struggling and we were losing the match.
Entering the final set, our coach benched one of the seniors. Now, I’ve played and watched volleyball for most of my life and have to say, this individual’s performance was not the source of our struggle. Also, our seeding for the post-season tournament was finalized, so the game's outcome would not change this. Finally, speaking from personal experience, this situation is never easy as a player; it’s humiliating.
So I bit my tongue as I internally shouted what I wanted to say out loud: Just let her finish the game, for God’s sake!
As the team reacted to the decision and all eyes fell upon this senior, I prepared to make myself available should she need a moment to cry or let a few whispered cuss words fly (...another functional part of my job). Instead, I watched this young woman gather herself and join her team at the end of the bench. We proceeded to lose the match despite the substitution, yet she cheered her teammates on and shook hands with the opponent. When given the opportunity to address the team with the other seniors after the game, she was calm and spoke of her teammates, not herself. No crying, no pouting, only humility.
“The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
While a seemingly small moment in the grand scheme of things, this young woman exhibits the humility and docility Christ calls us to. Speaking to the crowd and his disciples, Jesus instructs them to obey the Pharisees but not to follow their example. We are called to live in this radical way not so that it may be seen but because it is right and just.
As we enter this second week of Lent, I think this kind of witness is helpful.
It can be easy to begin Lent with big expectations and big promises, but the work of grace is often subtle and quiet. The more we open our hearts to receive grace in these moments, big or small, comforting or humiliating, the deeper those roots become and the closer we grow toward Christ.
