Kingdom-Wisdom from Master Yoda, Part III

The Kingdom of God is Found Through Success—but Especially Through Failure

Yes, failure most of all. The greatest teacher, failure is. 
Luke, we are what they grow beyond. 

That is the true burden of all masters.

We’ve been considering the wisdom about the Kingdom of God found in a dialogue between Luke Skywalker and Yoda from Star Wars: The Last Jedi.  In the last post we considered how the Kingdom was both "here, now" and "over the horizon".  Let’s return to the dialogue, which I printed in its entirety just to refresh our memory.

Luke Skywalker: [Yoda appears as a ghost] Master Yoda. 

Yoda: Young Skywalker. 

Luke Skywalker: I'm ending all of this. The tree, the texts, the Jedi. I'm going to burn it all down. 

Yoda: [Yoda summons lightning to burn down the tree and the Jedi texts. He laughs] Ah, Skywalker. Missed you, have I. 

Luke Skywalker: So, it is time for the Jedi Order to end. 

Yoda: Time it is for you to look past a pile of old books, hmm? 

Luke Skywalker: The sacred Jedi texts? 

Yoda: Oh, read them, have you? Page-turners they were not. Yes, yes, yes. Wisdom they held, but that library contained nothing that the girl Rey does not already possess. Skywalker, still looking to the horizon. Never here, now, hmm? The need in front of your nose. 

Luke Skywalker: I was weak. Unwise. 

Yoda: Lost Ben Solo you did. Lose Rey we must not. 

Luke Skywalker: I can't be what she needs me to be. 

Yoda: Heeded my words not, did you? Pass on what you have learned. Strength. Mastery. But weakness, folly, failure also. Yes, failure most of all. The greatest teacher, failure is. Luke, we are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters.

My last nugget of wisdom comes from Yoda’s parting words to Luke. Yoda realizes that while Kylo Ren is lost to the Dark Side, there is still hope for Rey—but she can’t do it on her own.  She needs Luke’s help, just as Luke needed Yoda years earlier—and apparently needs him now. Look at how Yoda says it: “Lost Ben Solo you did.  Lose Rey we must not.”  Yoda uses odd speech constructions, but I’m guessing he probably didn’t mix those pronouns accidentally.

Whatever the hidden meaning might be, in frustration, Luke replies, “I can’t be what she needs me to be.” 

As I hinted at before, Luke has convinced himself that because he failed once, he is disqualified from ever teaching again.  He doesn’t want to cause further pain and hurt by his actions.  On the surface, it seems noble enough.  But does this really make sense?  The Galaxy’s only known Jedi Master has sat out the past decade or so as the New Republic/Resistance has struggled to survive against the First Order. So, who is Luke really protecting? Rey or himself?  Losing his nephew to the Dark Side has obviously caused him immense personal pain, as well as grief for his sister, and he would rather avoid feeling all that. It’s an understandable and very human instinct. We all do it. 

Probably my favorite line in the whole exchange is what Yoda says in response: “Heeded my words not, did you? Pass on what you have learned. Strength. Mastery. But weakness, folly, failure also. Yes, failure most of all. The greatest teacher, failure is. Luke, we are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters.”

What sage wisdom from a Force Ghost!  Personally, I don’t like to admit my failures. I usually try my best to hide my flaws and cover up scars.  I want to pretend to be better than I am.   If I’m teaching, I want to focus on those areas where I am competent and strong, where I am on top of the material we are learning.  I don’t want to lead in an area where I am not in control.  I don’t want my student to see me as vulnerable, scared—human.  I’m a bit embarrassed if I’m the “teacher” and I don’t know an answer.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being competent when we teach.  We should have a certain level of mastery of the subject before we presume to teach others.  But what Yoda says in essence is:  Yes, Luke, show Rey all your strength and mastery—but also be vulnerable with her when necessary.  Let her see you as a real person with flaws and fears [see Jesus: A God Who Was Human]. If she surpHeasses you, if she transcends some flaw that you couldn’t, that’s kind of the point.  True mastery comes as we let go of the need to be seen as perfect. The burden of mastery is letting her increase as you decrease.  

He must increase, but I must decrease—John the Baptist

In the story of Jesus, it seems John the Baptist may have embraced this burden of mastery that Yoda speaks about. According to Scripture, John himself was something of a miracle baby, being born to Elizabeth and Zechariah late in life.  John was six months older than his cousin Jesus, but seems to have become convinced that Jesus was the Messiah.  It's possible that the elder John could have been something of spiritual mentor for Jesus?  If that were true, then it would have been easy for John to be jealous of the younger Jesus getting all the attention.  But that does not appear to be what happened.  What we know of him is that his ministry "prepared the way" for what Jesus would accomplish, and then he seems to step aside and let Jesus take center-stage.  In Mark's Gospel, we find that he was executed by King Herod—Mark 6:17-29.

John seems to know he's "not the one", but apparently his followers aren't convinced.  The Jewish people have been waiting for a Messiah for centuries, so it's not surprising that when this powerful preacher appears seemingly out of nowhere preaching a message of repentance and preparation for "coming of the kingdom of God" out on the outskirts of civilization, they start to wonder: Is he the one we've been waiting for?  Is John really the Messiah?  Is he the next coming of the prophet Elijah that has been predicted?  

But—not for the first time [e.g., see John 1:6-8; John 1:19-28]—John makes it clear that he isn't the one, but is merely "sent ahead" of the Messiah to get things ready for his arrival.  He realizes that his work is nearing its end, but that Jesus's work is just beginning.  He likens himself to the best at a wedding, who is ready to stand next to his cousin—the bridegroom.  John makes it clear that Jesus is the one who who "has the bride".  So, like on any wedding day, the best man is justifiably excited, but he knows this is the groom's day; the focus is on him—and on the bride that is about to walk down the aisle to join her groom.  And as best man, John couldn't be happier!  This gives context to understand what John means when he says: "He must increase, but I must decrease"—John 3:29-30.  

Much like Yoda was Luke’s teacher in the ways of the Force, and John the Baptist may have been a mentor for Jesus, we learn from the Gospel stories that Kingdom-living is about becoming disciples, or students, who, in the words of Dallas Willard, “learn from Jesus how he would live our life if he were us,” and then are sent forth to invite others to become fellow learners.  Kingdom-living is about learning to become the truest version of you—including developing the grace and humility of which Yoda speaks, that allows us to have both our successes and failures on display as needed for our those who follow us.  Kingdom–living is something we begin “here, now,” meeting the human “needs in front of our nose”, but it also prepares us for what lies “over the horizon.” Kingdom-living is, as Willard put it, “training for reigning.”

I always felt like Luke Skywalker was something of a slow learner.  One can argue he could’ve learned this lesson Yoda was teaching him years earlier and saved everyone involved a lot of grief.  But in the end, he does get it.  Luke reconnects with the Force and summons all his remaining energy for a confrontation with Kylo Ren on Crait, where the Resistance is hiding.  His final act not only brings personal peace regarding his failure with his nephew, but it also transcends his own concerns for the greater good (peace) of the Galaxy.  His sacrifice “buys time” for the Resistance to escape the First Order—and allows Rey to survive that the Jedi might live on.  Indeed, Luke will not be the last Jedi—nor, it seems, will Rey. The spark of hope is reignited, just as it was over 30 years ago when a farm-boy from Tatooine picked up the torch, that had been sputtering for several decades, and answered Obi Wan Kenobi’s summons to become the Galaxy’s “New Hope” against the Dark Side.  The last scenes of The Last Jedi show a young slave boy playing with his friends as they reenact the Battle of Crait, then later that same boy is alone gazing at the stars above him, with hints that he is “Force-sensitive”, and just might be destined to become part of the Galaxy’s “Next Hope”.  We will have to wait for Star Wars Episode IX to see how the story concludes.

We are the spark that can ignite the flame of God’s love in our world in our generation.  

Over this series of posts, we’ve considered how the kingdom of God is not found in a sacred text with many words as much as it’s experienced through a relationship with the living Word of God, how it’s both “in front of our nose” and “over the horizon” at the same time, and how it’s found through sharing our success with others—but especially through sharing our failures.  

Passing the spark is a good metaphor to summarize the kind Kingdom-living we've discussed.  The classic hymn Pass it On reminds us that: "it only takes a spark to get a fire going."  For centuries, followers of Christ have passed the spark of hope within us, which we believe is found through knowing Jesus as Lord and Savior, from one person to another, from one generation to the next—1 Peter 3:15-16.  

In a way, we are like the Resistance in our world.  We stand against the “Dark Side” if you will—i.e., we resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they take. We are the spark that can ignite the flame of God’s love in our world in our generation.  Much like the Star Wars space opera, if the flame is to continue to burn after we are gone, it will be because we passed it on to the “Next Hope”—God has no Plan B.  If we truly believe this message we share is our world’s best hope—maybe it’s only hope—then we better get busy passing it on.