The Message is a modern paraphrase of the Bible; not an exact translation, but interesting. It offers these alternative words to Romans 12:10: “Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.” J. B. Phillips’ translation interprets the same verse: “have a willingness to let the other man have the credit.”
To “play second fiddle” is an idiom meaning “you take a subordinate role behind someone more important.” The term alludes to the part of the second violin in an orchestra. Leonard Bernstein, the famous conductor, was once asked, “What is the most difficult instrument to play?”
He replied, “Second fiddle. I can get plenty of first violinists, but to find one who plays second violin with as much enthusiasm as second French horn or second flute, now that’s a problem. And yet, if no one plays second, we have no harmony.”
When American TV personality Ed McMahon died in 2009, one newspaper headline read: “When it came to being the No. 2 man, he was No. 1.” Best known for his 30-year tenure as Johnny Carson’s late-night sidekick, McMahon excelled at helping Carson succeed in the spotlight. While most entertainers strive for top billing, McMahon stood out in a supporting role.
The list of second fiddles is almost endless. The Lone Ranger had Tonto. Lucy Ricardo had Ethyl Mertz. Batman had Robin. Don Quixote had Sancho Panza. Sheriff Andy Taylor had Deputy Barney Fife. Captain Kirk had Spock.
Jonathan, son of King Saul, played second fiddle to David. Jonathan could have been king by right, but he had the spiritual insight to realize that God had chosen his friend, David. Andrew played second fiddle to Peter; but it was Andrew who first recognized Jesus as Messiah and brought Peter to Jesus. Barnabbas, Apollos and Timothy were all second fiddles to Paul; but without their part in the evangelism-orchestra, Paul’s own violin would not have been as lovely.
J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, a story of the eternal struggle between good and evil, is considered to be the best fiction novel of the 20th century. The story: There exists a magical, powerful ring, which, if it falls back onto the finger of the Evil One, all that is good and lovely will be destroyed. Therefore, the ring must be destroyed by being taken into the land of the Dark One, and hurled into the volcanic furnace from which it was forged.
Frodo Baggins, a small, man-like creature, called a Hobbit, is chosen to be the ring bearer to carry the ring into dark Mordor and cast it into Mount Doom. His faithful friend, his sidekick, his second fiddle, is another Hobbit by the name of Samwise Gamgee.
At the climax of the trilogy, Frodo and Sam are near the top of Mount Doom, but the magical power and supernatural weight of the ring, which Frodo wears about his neck on a chain, has become too much for Frodo to bear. He is spiritually and physically exhausted, and cannot make it the last few steps into the fiery mountain.
Gather ing h i s own strength, faithful, second fiddle Sam says, “Come on Mr. Frodo. I can’t carry the ring for you…but I can carry you!” And lifting him up, Sam carries Frodo to his destiny.
A servant is not greater than the master: Jesus told us that. We could never carry the burden that God placed on Him. But in all we say and do—in the way we live and love—we can carry Christ into all the world. Next to the Master’s place, there lies second violin, and a violin bow just waiting for you.
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