Göttinger Predigten im Internet
ed. by U. Nembach, J. Neukirch, C. Dinkel, I. Karle

PENTECOST 20, OCTOBER 22, 2006
A Sermon based on Mark 10: 35-45 (RCL) by David Zersen
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(Preached at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Accra, Ghana)

Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” “We can,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “You will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with, 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.” When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John. Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as 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 slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

LEARNING WHAT TO WISH FOR

Children’s stories often have profound messages and most cultures seem to have one about people who wish for things without giving much thought to what they really need. One of the classics goes something like this. A person is given three wishes and they exercise their options only to discover that their choices, usually based on greed, give them bigger problems than they had before their wishes were fulfilled. One version of the story has the wisher wising up fast, using the last wish to bring things back to normal before it’s too late.

Why is it that when given three wishes, or any such number of choices, we typically try to satisfy our basest desires, searching for things which cannot really fulfill us? Give a child a choice between 2 pieces of candy, and 25, which would be taken? When do people tend to buy most lottery tickets, when the jackpot is at $1 million or at $150 million? From a calculating and logical perspective, some might say, “this is just good business sense.” But there’s more to it than that. Setting the stated choices in a larger context, it’s worth asking, “What will be done with the 25 pieces of candy and with the $150 million?” I don’t know of any research that’s been done on candy-grabbing, but there is sufficient research on lottery winners to show that most have squandered their winnings on foolish and irrelevant kinds of things within the first year and often end up having managed all their monies so poorly that they become paupers. Is there any lesson for us here?

I. Trying to learn what we really want in life

Today’s text wants us to hear one. Isn’t it fascinating to consider the kinds of stories the evangelists choose to remember for us from Jesus’ life and ministry. This one certainly puts James and John in a bad light, so why retell it—unless there’s such a powerful point about life’s meaning that Mark can’t pass up the chance to let us hear this little dialogue.

Perhaps the sons of Zebedee, a Galilean fisherman, never had much in life. Working the boats, day in and day out, wasn’t all that exciting. And now they’ve been following Jesus for a while and not altogether sure what he’s about, they sense there’s something coming. And they might be able to get in on it if they play their cards right. So, why not ask? What’s the harm in it? “When you come into your glory, Jesus, (whatever that might be), how about if we get to take the places of honor on your right and left side? We’re not trying to be greedy, Jesus. It’s just that probably if we don’t ask, somebody will beat us to it, and then we will be sorry we didn’t speak up sooner. So this is what we wish for.”

I had an interesting experience like this myself just recently. Teaching at a college in Tanzania, three young men approached me after I had been there about two days and said, “Can we arrange through you to go and study in the United States. This is not something we are asking for everyone. Just the three of us. Can you work out an arrangement just for us three friends alone?”

On the surface of it, as I said earlier, it sounds like good business. If you don’t take care of your own needs, your future, who’s going to do it for you? But there is something else in this text. When the other ten heard what James and John had asked for, they became indignant. Not perhaps because James and John got there first with the very thing that was on all of their minds. Rather, it was because James and John were ignoring the sense of community, the sense of family that belonged to the Twelve. They were trying to cut a private deal, which excluded the rest. And that’s the heart of the matter. Within the Twelve, a kind of microcosm of the Christian community which emerged from and through them, there was a sense of mutual sharing, reciprocity, belongingneA question like “what’s in this for me?” did not fit in that setting. It was a setting in which members of the group had learned to consider not only the needs of the whole group, but also the specific needs of individuals.

The context, therefore, is very important to understand what’s being said here. The context is community, a setting in which people have been brought together to share life and life’s meaning communally. As Christians, this is our great prerogative and blessing. There are many religious and non-religious settings in which the individual has the spotlight. In occult setting, you and the medium are there alone. In Buddhism or Hinduism, you bring your devotion singly. There are many ways to do your relationship with God or your denial of God’s existence privately. But we have not chosen such a path. We are members of a family of God, a royal priesthood of believers, who gather for worship, who consider one another’s needs, who strive to remember by name, in prayer and in service, those who are present and those who are absent from us, whether because of illness, imprisonment or travel. We are one.

Because of inter-relationships, because of our belonging to one another, through Christ our brother, we can’t discover life’s meaning by wishing primarily for those things which serve self-interests. We discover life’s meaning only when we remember who and whose we are as people who belong to each other through Christ.

II. Trying to formulate choices which reflect our communal understanding

Jesus now calls the Twelve together and talks to them about what just happened. This must have happened over and over in the years they were together. Although humanly, the disciples experimented with individualistic choices, seeking to feather their own nests, crawl out further on their personal branches, Jesus called them together to help them appreciate what they were in the process of becoming. “You know how it is in the world,” he says. There people are into controlling and condescending lifestyles in which-- through which-- they establish themselves as leaders, rulers, despots, dictators. Not so with you!”

Isn’t that a lovely turn of phrase: “Not so with you!” Your self-understanding is cut from different cloth. “I’m not here to be served,” Jesus says, “and neither are you. Just as I came to give my life as a ransom for all—all, not just some-- so you too are here to be servants to everyone. This is how you establish your self-worth in my fellowship: by meeting the needs of those who need you most.”

It’s a marvelous thing to consider such a topsy-turvy approach to life’s meaning. Greatness results from choices that put the needs of others before your own! Becoming first means wishing more than anything in the family of God, which is your real family, to be last! Is it possible to imagine a setting in which that rings true in a compelling way? In the African setting in which I currently find myself, there is a compelling story, told by Anglican bishop Tutu, which does just that. In fact, it takes the example about James and John in our text and turns it on its head

A trial is taking place in a courtroom in South Africa where the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is attempting to bring to closure the long-range impact of some of the atrocities committed under Apartheid. A policeman by the name of van de Broek is charged with having killed the 18 year old son of a woman, and then burning his body, turning it over and over to char it beyond recognition, laughing and partying with others while he did it. Officer van de Broek admits doing this.

He also admits that some years later, he came to the house of the same woman, and took her husband and burned him alive, only to hear the man’s last words, “forgive them.”

Now the elderly woman to whom these things happened is present in the courtroom, listening to the detailed accounts of what happened to her loved ones, and the Commission wants to know what she wants. And very much in keeping with the fable with which we began this sermon, she says, calmly, “I wish for three things.” One can only imagine what three wishes she might choose to seek under such circumstances: Revenge through the death penalty? $20 million dollars to compensate her for her suffering? A national admission of guilt from all police forces? Our court rooms in the United States are filled with such wishes—and often judges and juries provide positive responses to many of the requests.

But this is what the woman said: First, she said, “I wish that Officer van de Broek would take me to the place where my husband was burned to death so that I can gather up his ashes and give him a decent burial.”

Second, she said, “Officer van de Broek took from me the only family I had, and I still have a lot of love to give. So I wish that he would come to my house twice a month so that I could have someone to love.”

Thirdly, she said, “I wish that Officer van de Broek could know that God forgives him and so do I. And in order for him to know that such forgiveness is real, I want to go over and embrace him.”

As the court officer led the elderly woman to van de Broek, he fainted, overwhelmed. Someone began to sing, “Amazing Grace.” Gradually the whole courtroom joined in.

In that story is the powerful expression of the extravagant love that belongs to one who knows that she is part of a community-- a family of which even Officer van de Broeks are members. And when you try to fathom how boundless such love is, or even to ask whether we might be capable of making such wishes ourselves, you begin to have some sense of what Christ’s mission with all of us really is. He claims us, sinners though we are, even more boldly and profoundly than his servant in that courtroom did. And then, as he did with the Twelve, he calls us together, and says, “He or she who serves others with my love is the greatest in the kingdom of God.”

From such a vantage point, we seek to formulate our wishes and make our choices as Christians. Remembering that we are part of a community of people brought into existence by the sacrificial love of our Lord Jesus, we ask for the grace to formulate our choices, to express our wishes, in ways that affirm the needs and claims of all within the human family. Can I ask you to spend a few moments thinking about who and where such people might be in your own sphere of interest and influence?

Prof. Dr. Dr. David Zersen, President Emeritus
Concordia University at Austin
Austin , Texas
djzersen@aol.com

 


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