pat loughery

I’m watching the Tour de France this year, as I often do, but with more interest as I’ve recently taken up road cycling for exercise. (Cycling also provides me a space for quiet prayer, but that’s another post for another time).

If you’ve read here for a while, you’ll know that I’m fascinated by culture and subculture. I’m as fascinated by the culture of the outlaw biker as I am the culture of fellow Grateful Dead-heads. And bicycle racing has its own unique culture.

You might think that if you go out to the Tour de France as a racer, if you’re feeling strong on a day, you aim for the stage win, or the overall lead. But reality is, you act as the member of a team, with structured responsibilities. Some are ‘rabbits’ to increase pace time, some lead the team in the mountains, but in all cases, each team has a designated leader, and the team’s job is to get the leader to the finish as quickly as possible.

Most interesting is the role of the domestique. The cycling domestique, as that wikipedia article will tell you, exists for one reason:

A domestique is a road bicycle racer who works solely for the benefit of his or her team and leader

They do whatever it takes to support their leader:

Some general important tasks carried out by the domestiques include retrieving water and nutrition from team cars and bringing it back up to the rest of the team and shielding teammates from aggressive opponents. They are also vital in helping teammates cope with mechanical disasters – should the leader suffer a puncture, the domestique will shield him as they pull over, wait with him until they have replaced the wheel, then cycle in front of him to create a slipstream allowing them to quickly reclaim their position. A domestique may also be called upon to sacrifice his or her bicycle or one of the wheels, if the leader has a puncture, depending on the circumstances.

The domestiques are the unsung heroes of cycling teams. The leaders get the glory; domestiques get the water and energy bars.

Occasionally a domestique may be allowed to win a stage, but it’s nearly always at the permission of the team leader. Power struggles between team leader and domestiques are rare.

So a cycling domestique does anything it takes to get their leader to the finish line.

For those of us who call ourselves followers of Christ, that’s a powerful image, especially as we understand the centrality of the concept of the Kingdom of God in Jesus’ words and actions. We are servants of the King of the greatest Kingdom. Our job is not to claim glory for ourselves, or to get across the finish line first, but to sacrifice whatever we need to in order to serve our King.

The great reality of what it means to be a domestique to Christ is that the things I have to give up – willfully trying to master my own life; doing whatever I can to get my own way no matter who I hurt or embarass; pursuing my own ends using whatever means I can, in return for freedom, hope and the invitation to participate in making the world a better place – the conclusion is simple:

I’d much prefer to be Christ’s domistique than my own.

So there you go.  Another example that I can find spiritual truth in the oddest of places – Yoda, the Simpsons, the Tour de France…

(Next up:  “Christ is my Druid”)