"What The Ritz Carlton Could Learn From Jesus"

“What The Ritz Carlton Could Learn from Jesus”
10/22/06
Text: Mark 10:35-45
Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
©2006

Focus: Jesus redefines greatness by reminding the disciples that the life of faith is a life of service.


Cesar Ritz began life tending his father’s cows in Switzerland, and ended it tending the Kings of Europe. He was called the “king of hoteliers and the hotelier to kings.” He had a passion for greatness and a desire that each of us hotels would offer guests an unparalleled experience of luxury.

After his death, his widow Marie continued to expand the empire. The first American Ritz was the Ritz-Carlton in Boston, opened in 1927. A room cost $15. Throughout history, no company has set the bar higher for customer service than the Ritz Carlton hotel chain. The company’s motto is legendary – “We are ladies and gentlemen serving ladies and gentlemen.” The company has the highest standards for how customers are to be treated, and have won the prestigious Malcolm Baldridge Award for service twice. Cesar Ritz’ hotels were the most luxurious of the time – the first to have private bathrooms, electric lights, fine linens, the finest of foods. Greatness, for the Ritz, is defined by how well the customer is served. It is a vision, says their company web site, inspired by the life of founder Cesar Ritz.

Cesar Ritz knew that the heart of service was answering that voice inside of all us that longs to be number one. What is not said on that web site, however, is that this vision of greatness hounded Cesar Ritz so much that he became a victim of his own success.. The demands for elegance and high standards became so much that eventually Cesar Ritz had an emotional breakdown. Ultimately, he was banned from the lobbies of his own hotels due to yelling obscenities at the guests.

Greatnesss is not about being number one, and true greatness is not achieved by anxious pursuits of success. Rather, it comes as we answer the call to become who we really are.

There once was a woman who became worried when her husband began dressing like Napoleon Bonaparte. You know, the hat, the uniform, the shoes, the sword. He would begin barking orders to her in French. He insisted that everyone refer to him as the Emperor. The deeper he got into his delusion, the more worried his wife became. So, she urged him to go to a psychiatrist. The man walked into the doctor’s office in full regalia, and the doctor looked at him and said, “What’s your problem?” The man replied, “I don’t have a problem. I’m one of the most famous people in the world. I have a great army behind me, I have all the money I’ll ever need, and I live in great luxury.” “So why are you here?” the doctor asked. “It’s because of my wife,” said the man. “She thinks she’s Mrs. Smith.” [1]

The challenge for us is to become who we really are. That’s what Jesus wants us to hear this morning.

He calls us to set aside our addictions and anxious preoccupations with status, prestige and hierarchy to do something more with our lives—to assume our identity as disciples, the people God has called us to be. In this memorable scene from Mark, Jesus is walking toward Jerusalem, completely aware of the destiny which lies ahead. Suddenly, the two so-called “sons of thunder,” James and John, come running toward him. They corner him with a proposition, “Do for us whatever we ask of you.” Mind you, Jesus has just told them what constitutes faithful discipleship: accepting a child, giving money to the poor, seeking treasure in heaven, trusting in God to provide what you need. “Many who are first will be last,” Jesus has just said. Plain as day, Jesus has taken the disciples aside and told them what is going to happen next. “We are going to Jerusalem,” he tells them, “and I’m going to be condemned to death, mocked, humiliated, beaten, and killed, but after three days I will rise again.”

But the disciples don’t understand. They cling to a notion that Jesus may be bringing about a revolution. Sensing this, James and John begin the process of bidding on their future; they want a share in this glory and greatness. They take their offer straight to Jesus. Wouldn’t their father Zebedee be so proud!

“Teacher,” they say, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”

In one of his books, my old preaching professor Tom Long has said that this scene almost looks like an old war movie. Tom imagines Jesus as a tough, war-tested sergeant, ordering his men into combat. Hunkered down in the fox hole, bullets whistling over head, the sergeant preps his men for battle. The only problem is that the soldiers in his square are named Moe, Larry and Curly. “Just as their valiant leader cries, “OK, boys, over the top” and begins to climb out of the treach, one of those stooges pulls on the hem of his uniform jacket. With a silly smile on his face he says to the leader, “Hey, look! We have matching ties and blazers, can we sit on either side of you?”[2]

Looking them straight in the eye, Jesus winces as he anticipates their request. “What do you want me to do for you,” he asks.

Filled with selfish pride, they forget the parts about trusting God and receiving the kingdom like a child. They forget about the pathways of service Jesus has been describing, and forget about risking security for the sake of love and compassion. The disciples have forgotten who they are. Instead of following Christ in the pathways of giving and sharing, they become preoccupied with securing their positions. “Give us the prime positions of power and status in your organization.” They wanted the prized positions, the theological equivalent of the corner office – a place of proximity to the center of power, a place where they could be noticed and honored.

Jesus’ reply is simple: “You do know what you are asking.”

The task, says Jesus, is not to grab at power or to be consumed with status. Discipleship is not about winning first place; it is about serving. Authentic leadership in ministry comes from sharing in that cup of Christ. It comes as we use whatever talents, time, and treasure God has given us to serve others. Walking that path toward Jerusalem, Jesus redefined greatness and offered a view of what it means to be truly great. He called all disciples – you, and me, and James and John, to give up our often pathetic quests for status and greatness and become who we are truly meant to be: servants who come not to be served, but to serve.

Disciples, then and now, have struggled to claim that identity. Our candidates for public speak freely of their commitments to “public service,” but their lives are defined by posturing and pointing their way to greatness. Our corporate ladders are strewn with the worn out souls of persons who have focused only on the push to be Number One – leaving behind families and marriages. Churches preach and teach Christ as the giver of happy and successful lives, but neglect to talk seriously about what it takes to live as servants of each other and of those who are most at risk in our society.

It shall not be so among you. In your lives, first live as servants. Bear the burdens of others, become involved in the lives of those who are in need. This is the definition of what it means to follow Christ. Christian life is not some sort of abstraction; it is a concrete way of living daily in this world. Jesus calls us to be who we really are.
This past spring break, we traveled to Memphis for a few days. Because of an Internet deal, we were able to stay at a very nice hotel. It had big pillows and a doorman who held the door open for us each time we came and went. We went to the Peabody Hotel, where the ducks march into the grand lobby at 10:00 and leave for their own penthouse apartment at 4 p.m. Both those hotels were exquisite; incredibly beautiful and luxurious hotels. But neither taught me a lesson about service. Instead, the hotel which left the biggest impression on me was a humble old motel on the south side of downtown, a modest motel where the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. The front part of the old Lorraine Motel has become the setting for the National Civil rights museum. It is a museum every American should visit. Its exhibits tell the story of the civil rights movement. The winding path through the museum leads you straight to the balcony where that great servant of the Lord was shot. You see the small room where he spent his last night. You hear the mournful sounds of Mahalia Jackson singing, “Precious Lord, take my hand, I am weary, I am worn…” And you think to yourself: this is what it means to truly become God’s servant. Amen
[1] William J. Bausch, Storytelling, Imagination and Faith.” Mystic, CT: Twenty-Third Publications, 1991).
[2] Quoted in Carlo Wilton, LectionaryPreaching Workbook Year B, p. 225