February 1. 2026

Are We There Yet? Thoughts on the Leaderless Revolution

I have lately been watching Ken Burns documentaries: The American Revolution, The Roosevelts, Benjamin Franklin, America and the Holocaust.  They are wonderfully made excursions into our history.  And what has really struck me is how our beloved America was built on hubris, wasteful indifference, blood-lust, greed, and self-interest just as much as it was built on courage, self-sacrifice, compassion, and foresight.  And all it takes is a look at the evening news to realize that the same dichotomy still defines us.  And all it takes is an honest look into our own souls and personal histories to see it, at least to some degree, in ourselves.

There is a great lesson buried somewhere in that.  In order to ferret out that lesson, I’ve taken the unusual step this morning of choosing two gospel readings, and both from the gospel of Matthew.

I begin with the reading from Matthew five, the Sermon on the Mount.  That passage provides a series of answers to the question every parent is familiar with.  The family is in the car going to grandma’s, or to the zoo, or on a vacation, and inevitably, from the back seat comes the plaintive cry, “Are we there yet?”  For the fourteenth time the weary parent conjures an image of how many miles still lie ahead and somehow musters the patience to simply say, “No. Not yet.”

So too with the journey that you and I are on – the journey of humanity from who we once were to who we will be.  We are anxious to see ourselves as the highest and finest within the created order.  Each nation, each religion, each culture views itself as the embodiment of the best of humanity.  It only takes a proud moment in an Olympic hockey game to get a crowd of Americans chanting, “We’re number one!”  But to quote the patient parent behind the wheel, “No.  We’re not there yet.”

What Jesus offers us in this beginning of a sermon he preached from a hillside is an elegant glimpse of where we are going.  Throughout these words that we call the Beatitudes, he uses the future tense to describe what awaits those who are blessed: those who mourn will be comforted; the meek will inherit the earth; those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled; the merciful will receive mercy; the pure in heart will see God; the peacemakers will be called children of God.

Clearly this is not a description of us, or of how things are now.  The “poor in spirit,” Jesus said, will possess the kingdom of heaven.  Our kingdoms are not possessed by the poor in spirit.  Many of our political leaders seem to possess a poverty of imagination, a poverty of intellect, a poverty of ideas, a poverty of character.  But none of them can be accused of a poverty of spirit.  Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world indeed if those who were poor in spirit, those who were meek and humble, the peacemakers, the merciful, pure in heart, who hunger and thirst for righteousness were those who were entrusted with our kingdoms.  But, no, we’re not there yet.

Jesus spoke of the destination of this journey we’re on and said, “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”  Wouldn’t it truly be a revolution in human experience if the meek took possession of the earth?  In our world, it’s the strong and belligerent, the savvy and aggressive who hold title to the planet’s resources.  It seems the worst blunder a nation can make in this age of competition for oil, wealth, and military power is to appear weak.  After all, as we keep hearing on the nightly news, if we are to stand up against evil, we must demonstrate to our enemies that we’re ready to throw our weight around.  A “world power” or an international corporation cannot be meek – at least not according to our present standards.

But you and I live by much the same code.  A basic operational principle in our society is: “don’t let others see your weaknesses; they might take advantage of you.”  We men are particularly inclined to believe that we remain in control by demonstrating our strength and superiority.  One of the quickest ways to become disenfranchised in the corporate world, so we believe, is to appear – well – “meek.”  What a truly extraordinary thing it would be if the meek among us held the reins of power.  No, we’re not there yet.

Jesus said that those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, and whom people revile, and against whom folks falsely utter all kinds of evil will find that their reward is great.  That’s clearly not a description of the world we live in.  One of the worst, most painful things is to have people “reviling” you, slandering you, falsely accusing you of terrible things.  Who among us would not rise up in rage, and quietly come to pieces behind closed doors in the face of such an onslaught.  Wouldn’t it be amazing if those who were slandered and persecuted on account of their convictions or their appearance, instead of being shunned and humiliated or even shot down in the street were greatly rewarded?  No, we’re not there yet.

In the beatitudes, Jesus sets before us a vision of where, by the grace of the good Lord, we are headed.  He describes a world that’s upside-down from the one we live in – a world where the poor in spirit, the pure in heart, the meek, the peacemakers are running the show.  I must say, it’s a stunningly compelling vision.  Our job, as I see it, is to keep that vision before us so that we have a clear sense of where we are going, and so that we can be confident we’re on the right road. There’s an image of perfection that lies in the great beyond for which human beings can strive.

In our second reading from the twenty-third chapter of Matthew, Jesus puts a much finer point on it.  He takes the basic theme of the sermon on the mount and makes it explicit.  Striving for that perfect goal, doesn’t mean being better, grander, more laudable than everyone else.  In other words, it doesn’t mean being venerated as a “saint.”  It means, well, being a servant.  He says, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”  In other words, he’s leveling the playing field; “the mountains brought low and the valleys lifted up” sort of thing.  We all get thrown in together.

Carne Ross in his book, The Leaderless Revolution, refers to the world in which we live as “ . . . a vastly interconnected age, where billions of people are interacting constantly, a wholly unprecedented phenomenon which we are only beginning to understand.”¹  The subtitle of his book is: How Ordinary People Will Take Power and Change Politics in the Twenty-first Century.  I’d like to raise a hand in support of Mr. Ross’s contention.  No we’re not there yet, but I believe humanity is moving. albeit in fits and starts, toward a true leveling of the playing field.  The widening gap between the fabulously wealthy and the rest of us notwithstanding, the elite rule of power, wealth, and position is living on borrowed time.  It reminds me of the story of the tower of Babel.  When people all spoke one language there seemed to be nothing beyond the grasp of the masses.  It was only when they could no longer communicate with one another that such phenomenal, broad-based facility broke down.  In this age of global interconnectedness human beings are recapturing the genius of Babel.  We are in the process of discovering how alike we are even as we bump up against our differences, and the playing field is, I believe, eventually going to be dramatically leveled.

So I have a suggestion or two for all of us.  First of all, don’t opt out.  This journey we’re on is terribly important, and we can’t get anywhere if we don’t show up.  So be engaged with the world around, and involved in its directions and choices.

Secondly, when we have a decision to make, a direction to take, let’s not simply make it instinctively, as we are most inclined to do, thinking about what you or I personally like the most, or what will benefit us the most.  Instead, let’s make it on the basis of how likely it is to move all of us further down the road toward the destination that Jesus describes.  Admittedly, it may often seem that the choices we face are so far removed from anything resembling the vision of Jesus or the kingdom of heaven that it’s hard to see any connection at all.  But, in truth, every small decision made, every choice between alternatives, every step taken, is a small step in one direction or another.  We need to make sure that direction is as close the destination as possible.  Each one of us is a member of the great human family, and of the body of Christ.  So, our lives are a small but not insignificant contribution to the whole journey of humanity, and so we must act not on the basis of narrow self-interest, but on the basis of grander visions and larger dreams, like that put before us in today’s remarkable words of Jesus.

No, we’re not there yet.  But one choice at a time, one step at a time, one small decision at a time, we will, with the Lord’s help, move further down the road.  And in some day yet to be seen, we just may, by that eternal grace, get there.

¹ Carne Ross. The Leaderless Revolution: How Ordinary People Will Take Power and Change Politics in the Twenty-first Century, Simon & Schuster, 2012, p.6.