Attention, recognition, prestige, popularity… some people wonder what drives people to want leadership roles, to be public figures in positions of authority. I’m sure it doesn’t surprise us, does it? Throughout my youth and young adulthood (and many dear friends would say that even now), these were personal motivating factors to a greater or lesser extent.
Once I had experienced what it felt like to be asked repeatedly to take on roles as the representative for my grade school class, or scout patrol leader, or team captain, I have to confess, I became unconsciously addicted to having such roles, and to being identified with them. When I was in high school and college, I felt compelled to seek those roles for myself, whether anyone else wanted me to or not… so great was my need for recognition. It is rather embarrassing to admit, but I think my need for recognition had become a kind of addiction.
Now, of course, these drives aren’t the only reason why people take on public roles and it is probably unrealistic to expect pure and unselfish motivations behind the actions of anyone, except perhaps the most mature saints among us. But we know that if self-centered desires and drives are the primary motivations of leaders, especially when they are unconscious, hidden, or masked, the results can be disastrous for people, organizations, nations, and society at large. We don’t have to look far to see the effects of what psychiatrist Manfred Kets DeVries identifies as the “narcissistic leader.”
How remarkable it is, by contrast, when we meet people in public roles who are humble, unselfish, generous, and apparently free of this kind of need for recognition. When I met Cardinal Robert Prevost at the Synod on Synodality, this quality of complete competence matched with inner freedom and availability really struck me about him. When he was named Pope, I thought to myself, how is it that this humble man will take on such a demanding, public facing role? But in fact, this is of course the kind of person one would hope for in such a position, someone who is free enough to devote himself entirely to the service to which he had been called by God. This humility and lack of self-centeredness are no doubt signs and spaces of grace at work in him. Pope Leo is obviously so capable and comfortable in his own skin without the least need to call attention to himself. In fact, he has the gift of being such an effective “pointer” to Jesus, like a signpost indicating the way to walk.
If I’m not mistaken, this is the inner freedom that John the Baptist had as well. John was obviously a person unafraid to take up his voice in a powerful and public way, exercising his prophetic call to prepare the way. People came to him in droves and he was the “talk of the town.” King Herod and the Roman authorities were intrigued and intimidated by his influence. Even two thousand years later, there is a religious sect in the Middle East that still follows John’s path of purification and preparation for the Messiah. But John was utterly clear in his understanding of his place in salvation history, and it was not to play the role of savior, but rather as servant and “groom’s man.” John was both completely charismatic and strong in his role, and entirely humble and clear about serving one greater than himself.
In our celebrity crazed, selfie taking times, the idea of being a humble, unselfish servant of a mission or purpose greater than oneself might seem quaint, weird, maybe even a little sick. But that is a sign of how dysfunctional and troubled our culture can be, at its worst. At its best, we can still recognize and celebrate people who take up generous public roles with absolutely no need for recognition, and Pope Leo is just one example. Hopefully, you can name people in the public eye in your own life who are true servants, pointing behind themselves to greater purposes, people who serve a greater good.
And for us as disciple-leaders, our greater purpose is a person. Our purpose, role and task, implicitly perhaps, but also explicitly, is to serve as pointers and signposts who lead the way to Jesus, and like John, reveal him through our words and actions, our ways of relating to one another. As John the Baptist models for us, this requires a growing inner freedom- not from our capability, skills, or strengths, but from attachment to them. It requires not that we become wallflowers or that we shrink from the stage and public eye, but that we are not compelled by our need for public adulation. While some of us seem more naturally indifferent to these needs, others of us need self-awareness and grace to mind our attachments, and navigate the many potential traps that come with life and service in the public eye.
As we enter into this ordinary time, we might consider, “how free am I of this need for public recognition?” “Am I comfortable in being both competent and effective in my role, without anyone thanking me or telling me how great I am?” And perhaps even more challenging, “when other people witness my leadership, do they perceive me pointing beyond myself to the real Savior and Messiah, rather than toward myself?”
With you on the road,
