It’s hard to say
how these things get defined. It’s hard to say how
they’re established. But standards do get defined,
clearly defined. And every boy is clear about
them.
To be someone at East Naples Middle School you had
to measure up to the standard, or at least come
pretty close. And your measurement then determined
your status among the boys. I know it sounds
harsh, but that is what we had to go on. And we
knew no different.
The standard measuring ground, at East Naples
Middle School, the place where it happened…was the
back athletic field. It was there, in the off
hours before and after school, and during PE, that
we learned where each boy stood.
Our standard, at
East Naples Middle, to measure up against was the
vertical leap. We considered a leap to be a
reasonably objective measure of athletic prowess
and therefore an accurate and suitable indication
of 13 year old worth. Besides that, it was a
tradition handed down to us. My older brother had
jumped, and every other kid’s older brother had
jumped too, it was the official East Naples Middle
School way of proving yourself.
At our measuring ground, to be fair, the leap was
measured against a baseball backstop, which was a
chain link fence that stood about fourteen and
half feet tall. Each boy took his turn jumping
straight up against the fence, jamming a tennis
ball into the chain links as far up as he could
reach.
It was, as I said,
an objective measure, the highest tennis ball
stuck in the fence represented the highest ranking
boy…the lowest ball…the lowest ranking boy. And so
it went.
In my three years of middle school I was never the
top boy. I was usually fourth or fifth, a
respectable place. Not the top, but thank the
Lord, nowhere near the bottom.
After two years of constant measurement, I began
to know from experience, that my tennis ball would
hang in the fence somewhere just below William’s,
John’s, and Robert’s…but somewhere just above
Frank’s, Jack’s, and Danny’s. And thankfully… well
above the second and third tier of boys, whose
names I cannot even remember…the boys we didn’t
notice much.
Now I’m not saying fourth or fifth place is
wonderful, but it was bearable. I got picked early
for teams, I was in the right crowd, and I was
able to feel pretty good about myself. We all
did…at least all of us who measured up well
against the standard.
I’m sure there was an analogous feminine standard
at East Naples Middle School too, but I am not
aware of it’s details. I know there had to be one
though, as we boys were somehow privy to their
results…to who was in and who was out on their
side of the gender gap.
As I said 6th and 7th grade went along well, with
a comfortable predictability. John, Will, Robert,
and I were usually on top, and some others were
not far behind. We knew our places and we were
comfortable. But in 8th grade something happened.
Something that turned the whole system upside down
and left us flailing in a sea of uncharted
ambiguity. Something that upset the standard, blew
the measurements and threatened to unhinge our
entire social hierarchy. That something was
Emanuel Davidson (Manny) …a boy who transferred
into our school in the middle of our 8th grade
year.
When we first saw Manny as he was getting
registered and getting his tour of the school, we
all knew he would measure up well to the standard.
He was tall, athletically built, and an obvious
contender right from the start. We figured right
from the outset that his tennis ball would hang
pretty high on the fence. But we had no idea that
what would happen, would happen… much less what it
would mean.
It was one or two days later that Manny first got
to school early enough to have time to jump. John
and Will and some of the others explained the
rules to him and showed him once or twice with
tennis balls of their own…and yes, Manny said…he
understood the contest and he’d give it a go. And
I think, he even understood it’s full
implications. Manny wasn’t born yesterday.
So Manny tied his shoes tighter, flexed his grip on the tennis ball, warmed up his legs with a few hops, and made his leap. And I will never forget it…
He leapt so high,
it was like he was suspended in mid air. He leapt
so high, you could feel a breeze as he took off.
He leapt so high, you wondered if he could reach
all the way to heaven…or even if he’d break his
neck falling back to earth. Emanuel Davidson leapt
so high that his tennis ball was not suspended in
the fence at all, but slam dunked over the top and
bouncing slowly away on the other side. We were to
say the least, amazed. He had scaled the whole
mountain and we were still speechless on the
ground.
Up to that moment we would have said it was
impossible. We would have said it can’t be done.
But he did it…and we all saw it. And that changed
everything.
Our standard was shot. None of us could come
close…not William, not John, not Robert, not me.
And none of the other boys could either. It was
unsettling, and we all had different reactions.
Some of us went
nearly insane trying to match Manny’s leap. Some
jumped day and night, but none of them got close.
Others insisted he’d cheated, that he’d gotten a
leg up on the base of the fence, and that it
wasn’t a valid measure. Still others just gave up,
despondently knowing they couldn’t come close.
Some never even jumped again.
I, being bent philosophically, even from an early
age pondered as I ponder to this day the
implications of the Emanuel Davidson event.
Emanuel Davidson…Jesus, the holy child of God
entered this world to the surprise of all. Many
thought they understood the standards by which the
world was run. Many thought they knew their place
in it. Some tried to make themselves out to be
better than others, based on those standards. Some
were subjected to abuse for falling short of those
standards.
Jesus jumped onto the scene and set a whole new standard, a standard that was beyond difficult, beyond improbable…a standard that was impossible to match… a standard head and shoulders above all others. In the fifth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel Jesus set the standard that all human beings including you and me:
- should be poor in spirit, so that ours will be the kingdom
- should be mournful, looking for holy comfort from the holy comforter
- should be meek in order to inherit God’s own power
- should be hungry and thirsty for righteousness, not greedy with self-interest
- should be pure in heart, even when no one is looking
- should be peacemakers, willing, even joyous, to be persecuted enduring for an ultimate reward.
And Jesus didn’t just say it, he did it; all the way to the cross.
Jesus slammed dunked the tennis ball over the fence and neither you nor I are ever even going to come close.
And our reaction
has been the same as on our East Naples
school-yard.
Some have worked themselves to death trying to
match up to the Lord, but they’ve failed. Others
have claimed that he cheated, that it wasn’t real,
that there was some other explanation, but we know
better—we’ve witnessed our Lord and we cannot deny
what he has done. Still others have given up—and I
pray that you haven’t and that I haven’t, because
that’s not what Jesus had in mind.
Because when Jesus
set this new standard he wasn’t trying to rub our
noses in just how far we fall short…he was
pointing out instead how far He, the God made
flesh, Immanuel…was willing to come down to get
us.
In fact, Jesus wants us to keep coming to the
fence, but now the contest has new rules. The
highest tennis ball on the fence is no better than
the lowest, but instead should be the servant of
all.
Pride is eliminated. The social order is destroyed. Whoever you think you are, or whoever you wish you were—is no longer important. Who you actually are, is all that counts.
And no matter who you are …the most important thing for you to know is that Jesus has gone over the fence for you.
So it seems only sensible to me that we stop trying to climb over others to get to the top; because that game is over. Instead the thing to do is to sit down on the mount this morning, at Jesus’ feet, and listen to the new rules so we too can play the new game.
