Sermon for October 20, 2024 - The 22nd Sunday after Pentecost
This week we have another familiar story as we continue to journey with Jesus towards Jerusalem. Oh, James and John, you foolish boys. Of course, following Jesus doesn’t mean being powerful like the rulers of the Gentiles. Of course, it’s all about servant leadership. Really, James and John had no idea what they were getting themselves into by making their request of Jesus.
Our story once again takes on a familiar pattern. Jesus is prompted by someone, in this case James and John, and he tells his followers of his impending fate. Like in previous stories the disciples do not understand or flat out reject Jesus’ response, only to then receive further clarification and instruction. Each of these lessons have been strung together as if pearls on a string to reinforce the message of discipleship and what that looks like or at least should look like in the Kingdom of God.
If you were like me, when I heard James and John make their request of Jesus in our gospel this morning, the phrase “Be careful what you wish for” went running through your mind. We are all too familiar with this phrase and have a pretty good idea of what it means; you may very well get what you wish for but it may not be what you had in mind. Indeed, James and John do not know what they are asking, for to be on the right and on the left of Jesus in his glory will mean hanging on either side of Jesus’ cross, on their own crosses.
That’s the danger of this old adage; that what we hope for, what we think we wish for, ends up not quite meeting our expectations. A constant state of want becomes that which deters satisfaction in the now. A perpetual perspective toward the future prevents us from what we could be seeing, or should be seeing, in the present.
Like the disciples, we end up being so focused on the future that the meaning of here is overlooked, even dismissed. How could today possibly compare with our wishes, our hopes, our wants for tomorrow? After all, what we wish is often to get past our present, escape the now. Something better is surely on the horizon. But this utopian thinking often gets the best of us, convincing us of a happier life, a life free from that which causes sadness and suffering. And to further complicate this, we foolishly believe we can do this on our own. We have a pretty good track record of confidence in achieving our own glory rather than believing in Jesus’ glory.
And yet, often not imagined in these kinds of forward-thinking maneuvers is just how different our life may actually be once we get there. There might have been some hints along the way, but they are frequently ignored in favor of what the future holds. The wish is so strong, the pull toward making the unattainable come to fruition is so appealing, that the truth and consequences, the actual effects on our lives, get overridden. We become blind to the present and consumed by a fantasy. The disciples needed to hear, again and again, that this is a both/and walk of faith; we are to look to the future, the fullness of God’s plan for creation, while also being present to adapt to our surroundings and confront the challenges we face as disciples in a broken world. The kingdom of God is indeed both in the future and it is now.
Stories like this, and like the others we have heard, are just the mirrors we need to see our true selves, which is not always pleasant, but often necessary to grow in self-awareness.
It would be easy to chide James and John for their inability to hear the truth of Jesus’ predictions of his suffering and death. It would be simple to chastise them for a gross misinterpretation of Jesus’ power and reign. And it’s just in that moment when we find ourselves judging others for not seeing the obvious that we should stop and wonder whether or not we have correctly or appropriately interpreted what we have assumed to be so readily transparent. It might not be as clear as we want it to be. The world is not black and white, but infinite shades of gray through which we must make choices that don’t have clear answers.
The truth of the human condition is that we are amazingly adept in ignoring the observable, feigning a kind of certainty in a given situation in part because we simply cannot let go of what we think is better on the other side. And yet, that greener grass is rarely actually so. As a result, a bit of self-reflection is essential when it comes to motivations for making wishes come true.
What is it that we really want and why? Is it escape from the situation, from responsibility, from accountability? Is it an unwillingness to accept the truth? Is it a fundamental resistance to the truth? Or is it misplaced power in the self, that we can secure a kind of future that we want without considering the actual results, the ramifications both for us and for others. Jesus has been warning us and the disciples about road blocks that get in the way; road blocks that literally create separation between us and God. And so regular time spent in prayer and self-reflection becomes a sure foundation for a deeper spiritual life, in which we check our motivations and our intentions and realign them with God when we stray.
It’s no accident that this conversation happens when it does in Mark. Only a few verses later, the Messiah will go to Jerusalem, a perceived king and yet his welcome is indicative of how much his kingdom is misunderstood. The timing in the story is also a narrative clue that makes an important theological claim, one that could easily be overlooked by thinking that we would be better, do better, than James and John. That were we there, surely, we would have heard Jesus, understood Jesus, and in our enlightened and lofty state, would have fared better.
That theological claim is this, once we arrive at the wished-for reality and it ends up not being what we hoped, perhaps we will actually realize that we need Jesus after all, and Jesus will be there waiting for us.
This is the promise of the Kingdom of God. If we walk this path of faith, if we can follow Jesus’ teachings about love, forgiveness, giving, serving others, and remove the potential stumbling blocks that get in our way, then we will be transformed. It is impossible to walk in here, spend time with this community and not be transformed.
As we look back at all of the lessons on discipleship that we have heard these past few weeks, we can see each lesson has been an invitation to a new way of living in this world. If we accept this invitation to follow Jesus, we must live as stewards of all that has been entrusted to us. Use what you have been given for God’s glory and for the coming of God’s kingdom on earth. Use it to bless the lives of others, to bring hope where there is despair, to create possibilities where all seems dead and lost. If we can ignore the temptation to be too focused on what is yet to come and be present to the now, how we can transform the world around us, then we will live a blessed and full life, not an easy life or one devoid of suffering, but a blessed life in which we are constantly receiving and giving away the blessings that are bestowed upon us from God. As we wrap our annual stewardship campaign, thank you for all that you do. Thank you for all that you give to and through this wonderful parish. You are the Body of Christ. You are the church. You are All Saints. You live it out each and every day as living reflections of God’s mercy, hope, and love in this broken world. And for that I give thanks for each of you.
