Matthew 3: just being me

Matthew 3 relates the story of Jesus' baptism. It was Jesus' cousin, John the Baptist, who baptized him--but reluctantly because John claimed that he was the one who needed baptizing from Jesus, not the other way around. John the Baptist had been living like a mad man in the desert, eating locusts and telling people to repent from their sins.

What struck me about this story was not Jesus' baptism, or the fact that the skies open up and God tells him, "You're my son and I'm pleased with you." No, what struck me was how humble John the Baptist was. He didn't presume to be something he wasn't. Though he had many followers, he knew who was greater than he was. He knew who deserved worship.

The truth is, I always want the glory. I want to be the Messiah--without having to be crucified or go through any of the hard shit, that is. I just want the glory of all the followers, afterward, you see. What that translates into in the real world: As a writer, I'd love to have millions in my thrall. That would, of course, translate into millions in the bank, so maybe I have an even baser motive than fame at heart. But for the most part, I think I'd trade the money in for the fame and glory.

And if I can't be Jesus, I'd like to be second-best: John the Baptist, who prepared the way for the Messiah. (I guess a lot of people would think Peter is second best, but Peter hasn't shown up yet in these gospels.)

In the writing world, I suppose that means that if I can't be Judy Blume, it'd be nice to be, I don't know, Marcus Zuzak. Or Sara Zarr.

But I have to admit, the pursuit of fame isn't very fun. I'm pretty miserable about it. A friend of mine, a publisher at a small press, once told me, "You place too much emphasis on publication." She's right. But beyond the emphasis on publication, I place too much emphasis on the fame and glory after publication.

The truth is, I enjoy writing, and I get a great deal of satisfaction out of finishing a piece, whether it's a small piece or a longer piece or a book. And that should be enough. It's often not, but it should be.

So I'm sticking a new post-it note on the edge of my screen. It reads: You are not Jesus.

And underneath that, another post-it note: You're not even John the Baptist.

This isn't my way of tearing myself a new one, by the way. I know I'm a good writer and a decent person and all that jazz. Those post-it notes are just to remind myself that I shouldn't try to be something I'm not.

I should just try to be me.