October 17, 2015
William G. Carter
They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”
James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”
When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”
It is a bold request. Now preserved in scripture, the Gospel of Mark offers a continuing embarrassment for James and John. "Teacher, give us a privileged position in the kingdom of God." “When you come into your glory, grant us to sit at your right hand and your left.” Give us good seats.
What a goofy thing to ask. If they could simply leave it on the level of, “Teacher, could you do something for us?” That would resemble a prayer – a request by two brothers based on their own needs. Jesus has been doing all kind of things for all kinds of people: healing broken bodies, restoring souls, feeding stomachs, teaching truth. James and John know the Christ is gracious enough to later say, “Ask whatever you want, and I’ll do it.”
So they ask. What they ask is for their affinity with Jesus to provide them an advantage. For their love for the Lord to lift them above those less committed. That their perseverance for his sake would gain them an eternal reward. “Teacher, on the day when you sit on your throne, seat us on slightly smaller thrones by your side.”
Jesus takes them off at the knees. He declares they don't know what they're talking about.
As Mark tells the story, it’s sadly comical. For the third time, Jesus has told the twelve he’s going to die. He declares the road they travel together is the road to the cross. Each time he says it, there is pushback. Or complete ignorance. Simon Peter says first, “Oh no, the Messiah will not die.” Then the disciples are caught bickering about their own importance. And here, James and John request a promotion.
Meanwhile, Jesus describes his destiny in ways that grow longer each time. In chapter eight, he speaks of “suffering, rejection, and death.” In chapter nine, “betrayal, suffering, and death.” In today’s text, “betrayal, condemnation, judgment, mockery, spitting and flogging, and death.” To which these two fishermen say, “Hey, can you put both of us on thrones?”
What are they not understanding? Certainly, they don’t understand what lies ahead for Jesus. Are they in denial? Confused? We don’t know. Mark does say they were “amazed” and “afraid,” two terms that he will use when he gets around to describing Easter. The witnesses at the empty tomb were also “amazed” and “afraid.” Along the way, there have been moments when all the disciples were amazed and afraid. That is the standard reaction when somebody stays close to Jesus.
Yet this shameless appeal for prestige, for exaltation over all others, is as tone deaf as a cracked bell. Jesus teaches there are no hierarchies in the people of God. Nobody is better than anybody else. There are no differentials in status, no rewards for being smart, good looking, or capable. We have a variety of skills and diversity in callings, but God regards us the same.
If only James and John could understand that. These two Galileans were among the initial disciples. They left their homes, left their jobs, left their families, all for the sake of the kingdom Jesus has been preaching. If anybody is keeping score, Jesus chose swaggering Simon Peter and quiet Andrew about five minutes before James and John. Yet these two, affectionately nicknamed “the Sons of Thunder,” have stuck with Jesus from the very beginning.
After all that time, they understand the nuances of his jokes. They know his habits. They read his mood when he rolls his eyes or wrinkles his brow. They comprehend his countenance when he’s angry and can tell when he is sly. And Jesus includes them in the top-secret moments of his ministry. Like when he cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a headache, or raised that little girl from the dead, or that day he burst into living flame on mountaintop. They have belonged since the beginning. Shouldn’t that count for something?
It is an open question. Shouldn’t longevity come with benefits? I’ve been here for a while. And some of you have been here a whole lot longer. You’ve staked out your seats and announced, “This is my place. Don’t sit in it.” And Lord knows, I have my place too. This is a common assumption – or is it presumption? – when you have put in your time, when you are an insider. The temptation creeps in. You look for special treatment.
Years ago, when my daughters were little, there was one Easter Sunday when all the wheels weren’t rolling in the same direction. There were special dresses, hair to brush, breakfast before what would be a long morning, to say nothing of sugaring up on jellybeans and chocolate bunnies before jumping in the car. “Come on,” I said, “We are running late.”
Alas, we came around the corner of School Street and all the parking lots were full. Cars parked on both sides of the street. It’s ten minutes before the service begins and I’m scheduled to preach. The choir is lining up for the procession, and I can’t find a parking spot. With the car windows rolled up, I’m fuming, “It’s Easter, and I’m the pastor.”
Finally I found a spot about three blocks away. So I get them out of the car, down the hill without breaking a heel in those new shoes, hand them off to the surrogate grandmother, only to have an usher say, “You’re cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” The organist finished the prelude as I pull on the preaching robe, and all I’m thinking is, “Shouldn’t I have a specially reserved parking space just for me?”
In this room, all of you were thinking, “Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” but I was thinking “privileged parking space for the big days when I’m running late.” Just then the Lord spoke to me and said, “Bill, you are special. And every one of my children is special. The wise ones are those who never presume they are better than anybody else.” I groaned and said, “Yes, Lord, it’s your big day. And it’s not about me.” This was an important moment in my continuing conversion.
We would like to think if we put in our time, we will advance our position. That expertise, skill, and good looks will lift our status. But the reality is closer to how the Gospel of Mark describes the twelve disciples: all of us are beginners. None of us are experts in the ways of God. None of us are all that far ahead of others. And if we serve a term in leadership, it will always be a term of service.
Jesus offers this as an alternative to how the world works. “The Gentiles have their tyrants,” he says. “They dominate, dictate, and declare.” Don’t we know that to be true! Every day, someone claws their way to the top. If they can climb faster by pushing others down, they will do it. If they can grab power by denying power from others, this is their advancement scheme. Nothing will stop them, short of a conversion.
And we are talking about more than finding a parking space. These days, there are so many sad reminders of domination. Here’s one: many of our fellow citizens are systematically discouraged from voting. They want to determine their future, but the local polling place was moved twenty miles away. And there might not be public transportation to get there. Or they can’t afford to take off from work to get there. Or the requirements for identification have changed. These quiet shifts happened because those who aspire to power are threatened by new voices, specifically by people they deem lesser than themselves.
It's one more variation of the old request of James and John, “Lord, put us on higher seats than everybody else.” And Jesus is not interested in that.
There is a word here for all the churches that I know. Here’s a news flash: we are all in the same business. We share the same mission of making disciples who are capable of following Jesus. So much for declaring my church is better than your church. Those lingering voices of superiority don’t mean very much in the kingdom of God.
The other day, I was joking with the new pastor next door. He’s an old friend and we are both a lot older now. The comment was made that, in Clarks Summit, the Presbyterians are on higher ground than their neighbors. Geographically that’s true, but Monsignor Mike and I both agree that following Jesus is all uphill. The ladder we all must climb is the ladder of humility – we only climb closer to heaven if we intentionally choose to be humble. The first thing that needs to go is the old dead carcass of superiority.
Those of us who have engaged in works of service know this to be true. If we go blazing into a place of need as experts, we will be dismissed. If we go in and throw money around to feel better about ourselves, and then leave, we haven’t accomplished a thing. If we presume our job is to tell others what to do, it might never occur to us how we are coming across as tyrants.
The only way to make a difference in a painful world is to step alongside, to listen, to learn, to do the hard work of collaboration, and to stand on the same level ground as the rest of our fellow human beings.
Listen again to that shameless request: “Teacher, we want you to do whatever we ask of you.” As if they are in charge. As if they are already seated on those lofty thrones, to the right and left.
Wouldn’t the better prayer be this? “God, make us more like Jesus. Open our hearts to those around us. Save us from an inflated view of our own importance. Liberate us from every form of selfishness. Give us the heart of a servant, for we see this in the Christ who has given his life to ransom us from the powers of evil. Amen.”
They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”
James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”
When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”
It is a bold request. Now preserved in scripture, the Gospel of Mark offers a continuing embarrassment for James and John. "Teacher, give us a privileged position in the kingdom of God." “When you come into your glory, grant us to sit at your right hand and your left.” Give us good seats.
What a goofy thing to ask. If they could simply leave it on the level of, “Teacher, could you do something for us?” That would resemble a prayer – a request by two brothers based on their own needs. Jesus has been doing all kind of things for all kinds of people: healing broken bodies, restoring souls, feeding stomachs, teaching truth. James and John know the Christ is gracious enough to later say, “Ask whatever you want, and I’ll do it.”
So they ask. What they ask is for their affinity with Jesus to provide them an advantage. For their love for the Lord to lift them above those less committed. That their perseverance for his sake would gain them an eternal reward. “Teacher, on the day when you sit on your throne, seat us on slightly smaller thrones by your side.”
Jesus takes them off at the knees. He declares they don't know what they're talking about.
As Mark tells the story, it’s sadly comical. For the third time, Jesus has told the twelve he’s going to die. He declares the road they travel together is the road to the cross. Each time he says it, there is pushback. Or complete ignorance. Simon Peter says first, “Oh no, the Messiah will not die.” Then the disciples are caught bickering about their own importance. And here, James and John request a promotion.
Meanwhile, Jesus describes his destiny in ways that grow longer each time. In chapter eight, he speaks of “suffering, rejection, and death.” In chapter nine, “betrayal, suffering, and death.” In today’s text, “betrayal, condemnation, judgment, mockery, spitting and flogging, and death.” To which these two fishermen say, “Hey, can you put both of us on thrones?”
What are they not understanding? Certainly, they don’t understand what lies ahead for Jesus. Are they in denial? Confused? We don’t know. Mark does say they were “amazed” and “afraid,” two terms that he will use when he gets around to describing Easter. The witnesses at the empty tomb were also “amazed” and “afraid.” Along the way, there have been moments when all the disciples were amazed and afraid. That is the standard reaction when somebody stays close to Jesus.
Yet this shameless appeal for prestige, for exaltation over all others, is as tone deaf as a cracked bell. Jesus teaches there are no hierarchies in the people of God. Nobody is better than anybody else. There are no differentials in status, no rewards for being smart, good looking, or capable. We have a variety of skills and diversity in callings, but God regards us the same.
If only James and John could understand that. These two Galileans were among the initial disciples. They left their homes, left their jobs, left their families, all for the sake of the kingdom Jesus has been preaching. If anybody is keeping score, Jesus chose swaggering Simon Peter and quiet Andrew about five minutes before James and John. Yet these two, affectionately nicknamed “the Sons of Thunder,” have stuck with Jesus from the very beginning.
After all that time, they understand the nuances of his jokes. They know his habits. They read his mood when he rolls his eyes or wrinkles his brow. They comprehend his countenance when he’s angry and can tell when he is sly. And Jesus includes them in the top-secret moments of his ministry. Like when he cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a headache, or raised that little girl from the dead, or that day he burst into living flame on mountaintop. They have belonged since the beginning. Shouldn’t that count for something?
It is an open question. Shouldn’t longevity come with benefits? I’ve been here for a while. And some of you have been here a whole lot longer. You’ve staked out your seats and announced, “This is my place. Don’t sit in it.” And Lord knows, I have my place too. This is a common assumption – or is it presumption? – when you have put in your time, when you are an insider. The temptation creeps in. You look for special treatment.
Years ago, when my daughters were little, there was one Easter Sunday when all the wheels weren’t rolling in the same direction. There were special dresses, hair to brush, breakfast before what would be a long morning, to say nothing of sugaring up on jellybeans and chocolate bunnies before jumping in the car. “Come on,” I said, “We are running late.”
Alas, we came around the corner of School Street and all the parking lots were full. Cars parked on both sides of the street. It’s ten minutes before the service begins and I’m scheduled to preach. The choir is lining up for the procession, and I can’t find a parking spot. With the car windows rolled up, I’m fuming, “It’s Easter, and I’m the pastor.”
Finally I found a spot about three blocks away. So I get them out of the car, down the hill without breaking a heel in those new shoes, hand them off to the surrogate grandmother, only to have an usher say, “You’re cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” The organist finished the prelude as I pull on the preaching robe, and all I’m thinking is, “Shouldn’t I have a specially reserved parking space just for me?”
In this room, all of you were thinking, “Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” but I was thinking “privileged parking space for the big days when I’m running late.” Just then the Lord spoke to me and said, “Bill, you are special. And every one of my children is special. The wise ones are those who never presume they are better than anybody else.” I groaned and said, “Yes, Lord, it’s your big day. And it’s not about me.” This was an important moment in my continuing conversion.
We would like to think if we put in our time, we will advance our position. That expertise, skill, and good looks will lift our status. But the reality is closer to how the Gospel of Mark describes the twelve disciples: all of us are beginners. None of us are experts in the ways of God. None of us are all that far ahead of others. And if we serve a term in leadership, it will always be a term of service.
Jesus offers this as an alternative to how the world works. “The Gentiles have their tyrants,” he says. “They dominate, dictate, and declare.” Don’t we know that to be true! Every day, someone claws their way to the top. If they can climb faster by pushing others down, they will do it. If they can grab power by denying power from others, this is their advancement scheme. Nothing will stop them, short of a conversion.
And we are talking about more than finding a parking space. These days, there are so many sad reminders of domination. Here’s one: many of our fellow citizens are systematically discouraged from voting. They want to determine their future, but the local polling place was moved twenty miles away. And there might not be public transportation to get there. Or they can’t afford to take off from work to get there. Or the requirements for identification have changed. These quiet shifts happened because those who aspire to power are threatened by new voices, specifically by people they deem lesser than themselves.
It's one more variation of the old request of James and John, “Lord, put us on higher seats than everybody else.” And Jesus is not interested in that.
There is a word here for all the churches that I know. Here’s a news flash: we are all in the same business. We share the same mission of making disciples who are capable of following Jesus. So much for declaring my church is better than your church. Those lingering voices of superiority don’t mean very much in the kingdom of God.
The other day, I was joking with the new pastor next door. He’s an old friend and we are both a lot older now. The comment was made that, in Clarks Summit, the Presbyterians are on higher ground than their neighbors. Geographically that’s true, but Monsignor Mike and I both agree that following Jesus is all uphill. The ladder we all must climb is the ladder of humility – we only climb closer to heaven if we intentionally choose to be humble. The first thing that needs to go is the old dead carcass of superiority.
Those of us who have engaged in works of service know this to be true. If we go blazing into a place of need as experts, we will be dismissed. If we go in and throw money around to feel better about ourselves, and then leave, we haven’t accomplished a thing. If we presume our job is to tell others what to do, it might never occur to us how we are coming across as tyrants.
The only way to make a difference in a painful world is to step alongside, to listen, to learn, to do the hard work of collaboration, and to stand on the same level ground as the rest of our fellow human beings.
Listen again to that shameless request: “Teacher, we want you to do whatever we ask of you.” As if they are in charge. As if they are already seated on those lofty thrones, to the right and left.
Wouldn’t the better prayer be this? “God, make us more like Jesus. Open our hearts to those around us. Save us from an inflated view of our own importance. Liberate us from every form of selfishness. Give us the heart of a servant, for we see this in the Christ who has given his life to ransom us from the powers of evil. Amen.”
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
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