The Rev. Katharine Flexer, Rector
If you were educated sometime in the last half century, you probably took a class or two where you were graded on your ‘participation’ – on how often and how well you contributed to class discussion. How many of you scored well on that skill? How many of you dreaded having to contribute? Now we know who the extroverts and introverts are.
What I remember most about classes like this, besides the sheer terror I felt, were the people that talked the most. They were the ones who saw the grading rules and decided, may as well open my mouth all the time, whether I have something to say or not, and so they did it. No shame, no embarrassment, just talking, taking up the air time from the rest of us. I recall one class where we learned the concept of hegemony, cultural dominance (ironically), and one boy, whom I’ll call Joey because that was his name (he went on to be quite successful so this won’t damage him) talked on and on about hegaMOny, no matter how often and kindly the professor tried to correct him. I thought he was an idiot, but I also envied him. To live without embarrassment like that! Imagine!
Well, today’s gospel story is for the Joeys among us. Because James and John are kind of the Joeys in the class of the disciples. Let me explain.
Jesus had been traveling with his disciples for a while, and he’d taught them a fair bit – but then he began to talk about the Son of Man being betrayed and killed and rising again. The first time he’d said it, Peter had taken him aside and argued with him about it, but Jesus’ reaction was so strong (‘Get behind me, Satan!’) that even Peter wouldn’t try that again. The second time Jesus told them this news, they just kept silent, even though they were all confused. And then Jesus set off toward Jerusalem, no one daring to question him – but with all of the authorities angry at him, Jerusalem seemed like the last place he should go. And on the road, Jesus tells them for the third time that the Son of Man will be handed over and condemned to death and killed, and then will rise again.
So the brothers James and John – maybe they weren’t like Joey, maybe they had actually been thinking this over. The part about being betrayed and mocked and killed sounded pretty bad, but Jesus seemed so sure of himself and so clear that they figured he must have a trick up his sleeve, and it must be in that part he kept saying about rising again after three days. They had visions in their mind of triumph and fanfare and glory, and they wanted in on that. So after this third time of Jesus telling them, they stride forward to him and place their request. It seemed perfectly reasonable to them to ask it.
Of course we immediately see the problem in what they’re saying and think they’re idiots. All the other disciples did too. But to be fair, James and John aren’t totally out of character from the rest of the disciples. None of them seem like the brightest bulbs, at least not how Mark’s gospel describes them, and Peter has already demonstrated several times what it looks like to speak without thinking. So James and John are just acting according to type. They ask Jesus for the best places in the kingdom, to sit on his right and on his left, confidently nodding yes to his questions, asserting that they are able to do whatever Jesus does. Of course, Jesus tells them that they have no idea what they’re talking about, that the suffering will be far greater than they comprehend, and then explains again that the world’s ideas of power don’t work here in this community he is creating, that power is completely redefined and different with Jesus, power is self-giving love and service, not dominating over other people in glory. And apparently, the disciples nod and smile and then forget it all over again.
The whole scene allows Jesus to offer a teaching about what leadership should look like in the Christian community, servant leadership that is for others, not accumulating power for ourselves. But I’ve talked about that recently, and I’m going to assume you get that, because I know you hang on my every word. Instead, I wonder what Jesus thought of James and John asking their question in the first place. Jesus does chastise them – although not too harshly, not the same force he used with Peter. He says to them, ‘You don’t even know what you’re asking.’ But then he goes on to say that yes, James and John will indeed drink the cup and be baptized with the same baptism as Jesus – maybe predicting their later martyrdom. He knows that whether they’re ready or not right now, the time will come when they will have to stand up as mature adults, and they will be ready then to do so. Although he may well be frustrated by their slowness and lack of maturity now, he continues journeying in their company, knowing or at least trusting that they will indeed understand along the way.
It’s a little like how he engaged with the rich young man who approached him in last week’s gospel. He loves him, despite his stupid question; and so too, he loves James and John. Maybe he knows what it’s like to struggle with power the way they do, or to want to leave when the going gets tough. The reading from Hebrews that we heard today speaks of Jesus as one who can sympathize with our weaknesses, having been tested in every way as we are – and because he knows what it’s like to be human and has taken that humanness into the heart of God, we humans know that we can ‘approach the throne of grace with boldness,’ expecting to find mercy and grace in time of need.
And that’s really what James and John do – they approach Jesus with boldness and ask for the impossible. They have it all wrong, but they’re trying to understand. And Jesus, the Word of God, able to judge their thoughts and the intentions of their heart, loves them for it.
It’s the same thing that happens with Job. His friends stand around Job in his calamity, pronouncing theology at him, trying to explain why all this bad stuff has happened. But Job won’t be reassured by that: he demands his questions directly of God, asking why this has happened and what it all means. And God responds with that magnificent speech we heard today – God doesn’t explain, but God certainly shows up. Job asks his questions and is answered with a powerful experience of God’s very self, God’s presence with him. Job’s desire for God is met, however off track his questions might be.
The thing is, it’s not that we get to approach God with boldness if and only if we’ve got it all right – there’s no threatened lightning bolt for getting it wrong. We don’t have to step back and formulate the correct theology, or use the right language, or become somehow perfect before God will engage with us. These scriptures today tell us that we can lay claim on God whether we get it or not. Whether we understand God’s will completely or only chase after a glimmer of it, we can walk forward and ask audacious questions. God knows we don’t get it all the time; but God also wants us to walk along on the road until we one day figure it out.
And that’s also, I think, the way Jesus intends for his followers to treat one another. Rather than being afraid of asking, we’re allowed to be curious. Rather than judging one another for using the wrong words, we’re called to be good listeners, to understand where someone is coming from. It’s not that way in a lot of our hyper-partisan world these days – I’m seeing news pieces about banning politics from weddings and family gatherings as we get closer to the election – but it is the root of hospitality and generosity, the way to grow together as the body of Christ. I think this is what it looks like to walk with Jesus – we don’t fully get it, we don’t understand God or each other perfectly, but we keep asking. And God wants us especially to ask these things directly. Not just to talk and wonder and read about God, but to engage with God – to take the risk, to grow in relationship, to be transformed.
Just as Jesus kept his befuddled disciples around him to the end, Jesus never gives up and trades us in for new people. It’s us, the confused, misguided mass of humanity, that God loves. God welcomes all of us, knowing our thoughts and the intentions of our hearts, welcomes us to approach with boldness with all of our questions and uncertainties, and to risk traveling together in love. This is what I think being in real community is about; this is how we find grace to help us in our need. This is how we find the home we’re seeking, and make that home for others too. May we find that grace and receive that mercy this day and in the days to come.
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