Wednesday of the Second Week of Lent -- March 23, 2011
Matthew 20:17 – 28
Now Jesus was going up to Jerusalem. On the way, he took the Twelve aside and said to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!”
Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”
“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?”
“We can,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.”
When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave — just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Given a choice, we typically won’t select suffering, either for ourselves or for those we love. We go to great lengths to avoid great pain and suffering.
It’s not just our desire to avoid suffering that is notable. As this passage demonstrates, there is within us a desire for glory and importance, a drive to achieve some kind of recognition.
Contemporary Christianity has bought into the notion that if you cast your lot with God, you’ll be “successful” in all the ways the world envisions success. It’s what James and John – and their mother – believed: Life with Jesus equals opportunity and success.
In modern life, the language of triumphal Christianity surrounds us. We’re looking for a way for God to make our lives better . . . easier . . . pain-free. The basic question for most people who profess Christianity – and maybe any other religious tradition as well – is, “What’s in it for me?”
“What will it do for me?” If we asked that question of Jesus, and he responded to us as he responded to James, John and their mother, it would go something like this: “It will lead you to rejection and death (drinking the cup that I drink). You will be betrayed and abandoned. You’ll be convicted falsely. You will die alone, and even at the moment of your deepest pain, your cry for God will rattle empty through the heavens.”
The Christian spiritual life is not a formula for success. It is a path to transformation through redemptive suffering.
Like Jesus’ disciples, we may not consciously choose this path. There is a strong likelihood, though, that at some point it life, this path will choose us.
Now Jesus was going up to Jerusalem. On the way, he took the Twelve aside and said to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!”
Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”
“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?”
“We can,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.”
When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave — just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Given a choice, we typically won’t select suffering, either for ourselves or for those we love. We go to great lengths to avoid great pain and suffering.
It’s not just our desire to avoid suffering that is notable. As this passage demonstrates, there is within us a desire for glory and importance, a drive to achieve some kind of recognition.
Contemporary Christianity has bought into the notion that if you cast your lot with God, you’ll be “successful” in all the ways the world envisions success. It’s what James and John – and their mother – believed: Life with Jesus equals opportunity and success.
In modern life, the language of triumphal Christianity surrounds us. We’re looking for a way for God to make our lives better . . . easier . . . pain-free. The basic question for most people who profess Christianity – and maybe any other religious tradition as well – is, “What’s in it for me?”
“What will it do for me?” If we asked that question of Jesus, and he responded to us as he responded to James, John and their mother, it would go something like this: “It will lead you to rejection and death (drinking the cup that I drink). You will be betrayed and abandoned. You’ll be convicted falsely. You will die alone, and even at the moment of your deepest pain, your cry for God will rattle empty through the heavens.”
The Christian spiritual life is not a formula for success. It is a path to transformation through redemptive suffering.
Like Jesus’ disciples, we may not consciously choose this path. There is a strong likelihood, though, that at some point it life, this path will choose us.
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