From the crib to the Crucifix: The allure and destructive power of "worldliness"

In his book Moral Mazes, Robert Jackall told the collective story of what it’s really like to be a Fortune 500 senior vice president.

The data: They were married, had children, attended church regularly, and were active in the communities where they lived. They’re what’s called “pillars” of their communities…models we’d think worthy of emulating.

That’s how those Fortune 500 senior VPs conducted themselves outside the workplace.

How they conducted themselves inside the workplace provides an entirely different portrait.

The data: Those pillars of their communities were cunning, calculating, mischievous, devious, and even vicious Machiavellian figures. They conducted themselves only in those ways promoting what they believed was in their selfish self-interest, actively working to build themselves up by discrediting others in the CEO’s eyes. Trusting no one, they built loose coalitions whose members targeted common enemies who presented a potentially mortal threat to their collective ambition. Then, once the threat was neutralized, the coalition would collapse upon itself and its members would feast on one another.

Interviewing these Fortune 500 senior VPs, Jackall’s primary research interest turned to how they could live and justify living that kind of a “double life”—one for two days of the week (the weekend) and the second for the other five days of the week (the work week).

The answers they provided boiled down to one concept:

To advance up the corporate hierarchy, do whatever’s necessary to survive.

Most of us believe we’re not like and couldn’t possibly ever be like those Fortune 500 senior VPs. But, today’s readings from scripture suggest we may be deluding, if not deceiving ourselves. After all, none of us is blameless, wholly pure, or even holy, evidencing the same malignant spiritual disease—“worldliness”—that tempts us to desire greatness in one way or another.

Worldliness is the desire to live in and of and for this world—to really count by being “somebody” who’s exalted above others. It attracts and seeks so lure each and every one of us in—even the great saints throughout Church history—by tempting us to walk over, crush, and if need be, to destroy others to ascend the ladder of success, however we define that term. Left unchecked, worldliness divides and destroys marriages, families, workplaces, and once again today is threatening to destroy the Church, just as it threatened to destroy the community of Jesus’ disciples, as we heard in today’s gospel.

The temptation begins with ambition which, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Having ambition—to be a good spouse, to be a good parent, to fulfill one’s divinely ordained purpose in life—is a good thing. But, when ambition turns into self-promotion at the expense of another person’s good, it morphs into blind ambition and envy, as we ultimately allow ourselves to turn into cunning, calculating, mischievous, devious, and yes, even vicious Machiavellian figures who actively work to build themselves up by discrediting and then tearing others down. Gossip, lying, calumny, and libel all emerge from the dark pit of ambition evidencing themselves in what today we call “social climbers.”

Today’s gospel teaches us about this phenomenon and its progression from good to malignant ambition fueled by the sense of emptiness experienced when we believe we aren’t “somebody” in the estimation of those who count as “somebody” in this world...making other people our doormat as we attempt to open the door to success.

The apostles James and John were ambitious, both desirous of belonging to the Kingdom of God. Yet, that good ambition—which should also be our ambition—was becoming malignant because, as they told Jesus, they wanted to be “second” in the Kingdom of God, one at his right and the other at his left. Announcing this ambition in the form of a question, in effect desirous of being superior to the other ten apostles, they became envious and then indignant at James and John, introducing a fissure into what might be called the first “Church”—the community of disciples Jesus was forming to carry on his mission in building the Kingdom of God.

While this sounds like moral and spiritual “sibling rivalry,” how could the apostles fulfill their crucial mission if their ambition was to be “great” in God’s Kingdom—loved by God more than all the others—and to lord their authority over one another and other people as well?

The fact is this malignant spiritual disease has infected religious figures throughout history—the Pharisees and chief priests in Jesus’ day, popes, prelates, and pastors across Catholic history, and even regular Catholics like you and me. For some reason and from deep within the nature of human beings, we seek to be “great” in God’s Kingdom—just like we seek to be “somebody” in this world—by attracting attention to ourselves, especially when we think about ourselves as being so much better than all of those “sinners” we encounter day in and day out.

That’s “worldliness”—being in and of and living for this world not the Kingdom of God—and it’s all about the kind of self-importance, vanity, and pride we construct upon the emptiness of believing we're “nobody” in the eyes of those who we estimate really count for “somebody” in this world.

“It shall not be so among you,” Jesus sternly rebuked the apostles. “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.”

For their part, “crib Catholics” take Jesus’ rebuke in the form of “friendly advice.” That is, they think “Sure, it’s sure good to be aware of how worldliness can become a malignant spiritual disease.” But, “crib Catholics” immediately think: “But that’s intended for everyone else, especially so-and-so and so-and-so. If only they’d apply Jesus’ advice in their lives.” Then, if and when pressed about the fact that Jesus didn’t mean his rebuke as kindly “advice” but a “stern rebuke”—like a parent who has finally “had it” which a child’s foolishness and gets outraged—“crib Catholics” respond they’re not going to be taken advantage of and be anyone’s doormat. “Besides,” they think to themselves (if they don’t say it aloud), “In God’s eyes, I’m so much better than so-and-so and such-and-such.”

The greatest person in the Kingdom of God isn’t the person who boasts in the hope of accruing greater power in and for this world but the person who serves others while living in and of this world and all the while for the Kingdom of God. This person is the greatest, exemplifying an authentic Catholic faith in one’s conduct. It’s the virtue of humility that’s expressed in selfless service—as Jesus demonstrated to the apostles and expects of his disciples today—that is the authentic path. It’s evidenced when we in “lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” as Jesus did…on the Cross.

“Crucifix Catholics” try to avoid the temptation to place themselves on a pedestal by practicing the antidote to the self-importance, vanity, and pride that’s its source by placing themselves, as Jesus did, on the Cross. They’re surely not perfect at it—this spiritual malignancy seems hotwired into humanity and like Hydra, reappears as soon as it seems eradicated. However, when they experience the temptation, they offer a simple, yet sincere prayer:

Lord show me the way to understand that my love of this world is the enemy of Your Kingdom.

“Crib Catholics” don’t say that prayer because they’re not even aware they’re being tempted and, thus, they aren’t able to say “the good things that people need to hear,” as St. Paul wrote the Ephesians, “things what will really help them” (4:29). Instead, their words tear people down with the intention of promoting their selfish self-interest at others’ expense...just like those Fortune 500 senior VPs who Robert Jackall studied.

In contrast, “crucifix Catholics” are aware of this temptation as soon as they experience it because they’ve developed sufficient power of spiritual insight to catch themselves looking upon and judging others as inferior to themselves. And, because of their vigilance, they say all “the good things that people need to hear, the things what will really help them.”

That represents this week’s challenge from scripture: To catch ourselves when we’re tempted to look upon others and judge them as inferior to ourselves.

While we may not, at first, catch ourselves when we’re tempted, we’ll know we’ve been tempted when we decided to speak ill words about them, for example, gossip and lying or slandering and libeling them to destroy their reputation and promote ourselves as being so much better than them. Before speaking those kinds of words, that’s the moment to pray:

Lord show me the way to understand that my love of this world is the enemy of Your Kingdom.

To develop this awareness this week, begin each day asking God to send the Holy Spirit of wisdom upon you to make you aware when you’re about to gossip, lie, slander, or libel someone. Becoming aware of our sinfulness—fueled by self-importance, vanity, and pride—will make it possible to discipline our mouths, thus opening the door to salvation.

This week’s challenge takes seriously Isaiah the prophet’s admonition—to make our lives an offering for everyone else’s sin. But, it is as we give up our self-importance, vanity, and pride as a ransom for the many that we will learn to bear their guilt and justify them before God…exactly as Jesus did for you and me upon the Cross. Jesus is the “great high priest” who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses because he was tested in every way but did not sin, as the author of the letter to the Hebrews reminded us.

And so it should be with us.

This spiritual exercise doesn’t guarantee freedom from judging others this week or any time soon. But it does guarantee that over time, we will grow as “crucifix Catholics” by placing our trust in the Lord whose mercy is upon us.

As Jesus rebuked the apostles, he rebukes us today:

Whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.

For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.