Are you successful? By what measure? If there is a default assumption for what defines success in our culture, it would likely be money. There are exceptions, but “a successful career” usually means by measure of money. If you hear someone bearing referred to as a success, the same metric can be assumed to apply.
Sometimes there are layers. A successful athlete is defined by athletic achievement, but in many cases the money comes with that success.
Oftentimes, when I think of how success is defined I think of Tiger Woods. I don’t know Tiger Woods. I do know what his career has been. I do know that he is considered to be the best ever in his particular field. Some would say as a golfer he is the greatest of all time. Others would argue that, but just about everyone would consider him to be a success. Again, we might ask, by what measure?
Not knowing Tiger means that to comment on the scope of his life is mostly speculation, but we know enough to ascertain that when he is described as being successful the description applies to golf and money. Does it apply to relationships or the interpersonal aspects of his life, or to emotional intelligence? I can’t be sure. I don’t know him. He himself might say that in many aspects of his life, maybe even those that define life-satisfaction and meaning, he has been far from what might be considered successful.
The monetary and celebrity aspect of success that leads us to automatically assume that Tiger is a success is prevalent in most areas of life, even in areas of religion and faith.
What makes a successful church?
There is nuance here. I have encountered many people in church and faith circles who have a more expansive view of success than how many people attend. However, this bigger means more successful thinking is generally pervasive. What might it mean to let go of that? Could we actually see the formation of more effective communities of faith if we were free from the domination of such metrics?
It is true that if no one is willing to follow you, then you might not be effective at what you are doing, or you might have very little to say. It is also true that some of the most meaningful, consequential and long lasting work and expression in areas of faith does not draw the biggest crowd.
If you grew up in evangelical culture and had any connection to the functioning or leadership of a church, you will know something of the tension over definitions of success. Have you been part of a meeting that starts with a gleeful declaration about a recent programme that goes something like … “There were ____ (some description of a lot) people there.” I have been part of those meetings. I have said things just like that. It can matter, but there is more left unsaid by the statement. What made the described event an apparent success? Is it possible that there were a lot of people there, but that it should be seen as far less than successful?
Many of us, who have been part of the evangelical church, can think of examples of people who wholeheartedly adopted the bigger-is-better definition of success. I have heard pastors describe their entire vision for the church with a number. Whatever the number is, it is always, more and bigger. This can, I suppose, be inspiring, but it can also demolish any sense of vocation or purpose on the part of people who work or volunteer at the church. They could be doing fantastic work, even with profound effect, but if it is not part of making the church bigger, then it is seen as not really mattering.
I offer a prayer for all of those in evangelical culture and in other areas of work and vocation who are oppressed rather, than energized, by the prevalence of this overarching metric. This is not a call for mediocrity or laziness. I have also seen bad work or mismatched roles legitimized, almost celebrated, with reference to not giving into dominant views of success. This is no particular achievement. We ought to be able to ask ourselves hard questions.
Associated Entertainment Report Below:
SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT
I thought of this as I watched the most recent episode of Succession. Succession is an HBO show that centres around a mega-rich family. The patriarch of the family owns a huge media empire (yes, there are obvious reflections of Rupert Murdoch). Here comes the spoiler…Stop reading if you don’t want to know yet…
In the most recent episode, the patriarch, a harsh and often terrible person who clearly sees success as money and winning, dies suddenly. He is aggressively mean, empowered by hurting others, and wildly successful.
What is astounding about the episode is how well written the immediate aftermath is. The man’s four adult children, who are all together at the time, scramble utterly unable to deal with the situation. Everything on them and around them is perfect, but they are emotional infants. They largely hate their father but their lives have been entirely defined by him. This terrible scenario would not be the case in all circumstances for rich families, but in this case, what is shown is that financial and corporate success does not mean familial and relational success or even maturity.
One word described my sense of the scenes of the adult children trying to deal with the death: wasteland.
There is opulence and wealth everywhere, on full display. Everything in the scene where the sons and daughter of the man are (a huge private yacht for for a wedding) is a reminder that no matter how much you think the very rich have, you are underestimating. So much wealth, so much power, they have made it in life - success!
But-the writing demonstrates the most palpable truth-it is an utter wasteland. What is there is all absence, emotional absence, perhaps moral absence, perhaps spiritual absence. These people seem to have no idea how to relate to one another, how one human might be emotionally and spiritually present for another human. It is devastating. I am still sad when I think about it. Could this really be true for some people? If it is, I don’t want to be like them. In fact, if it is, my heart goes out to them.
Those who grew up around church culture will remember this scripture passage (it’s in First Timothy), “The love of money is the root of all evil.” (A more accurate translation is “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”) You might also remember Jesus saying that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. There is no heavenly kingdom on the Roy family mega-yacht, or private jet.
It is also the case that evangelical culture has often warned about the supposed dangers of secular media and the moral emptiness of television shows and movies. Polarizing sermons can set up examples of how bad the world is by citing popular entertainment.
This would be easy to do with Succession.
However, a closer look would also make clear that the show presents the scriptural truths noted above in much more stark and well defined ways than moralistic sermons.
You could watch an episode like the recent one and recall “the love of money is the root of all evil.” If you did, you would hear the sorrow in the episode and in the warning. You could hear the compassion in Jesus’ words about the perils of wealth. There is so much sorrow in Succession and it all exists right alongside the opulence. This family has a whole lot of camels and jets and helicopters and vacation homes and companies to get through that eye of that needle. It’s almost embarrassing to watch them try.
Of course, it is easy to know just what Logan Roy and his family are missing and what they should learn. My challenge, and yours, I suppose, is to consider how distorted definitions of success have hurt us and have led to various wastelands in our lives, how we may have perpetuated the distortions.
Is it possible to be the best at something, the greatest of all time, or the richest or the most successful business wise, without that wasteland effect? I am not sure. I have not had to face that question. There are still wastelands in my own emotions and mental health and sometimes even in relationships that need not exist, if I had a healthier view of myself and the world. I hope to aim for something more life-giving.
In the end, do you feel sorry for Logan Roy and his brood?
I see Logan's death as a great opportunity for the adult children to have a wake-up call...but will they? I doubt it! We'll see.....