Matthew 20:17-19 · Jesus Again Predicts His Death
The Fourth Sunday in Lent
Matthew 20:17-19
Sermon
by Kendall McCabe
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Power. We hear a lot about that today. We are concerned about the proliferation of nuclear power. Social activists are concerned about empowering the disadvantaged in our communities. We want to limit the power of the government in the management of our private lives. And, of course, we want to protect whatever power we already have.

Power. The ability to get things done, to make things happen. We know it is important and we want our piece of the action. It isn't that we want to do anybody any harm by some act of naked aggression or an infantile urge to dominate. It will be sufficient to have enough power to protect our own space. Missiles and nuclear warheads are only defensive agents, deterrents; we surely do not intend to harm anyone with them.

And in the church we have our own power concerns. It may be as localized as who the Sunday school superintendent will be, in the congregation where that post has alternated between two families for the last half century. It may be as far reaching as deciding who the president of the denomination will be and that person's influence on the teaching of theology in our divinity schools.

Our power concerns may be more individual and private. They may have to do with why we got involved in the church in the first place, why we take religion as seriously as we do. They have to do with God. The ultimate power trip. God becomes the way we get things done. It seems such a convenient arrangement. We join church and attend, of course. We may even tithe, and that clinches the deal. God has put the divine power at our disposal (for a fee), and we expect him to keep his part of the deal if we keep ours.

Naturally, I don't think anyone ever really puts it in terms as crass as those, but the idea is there all the same. Listen to what some people say or ask in the face of crisis: "She was always a good church member. Why did God let a thing like that happen to her?" "I don't understand why I've had such misfortune when I've always tried to do right." The success of the book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, suggests that the question is real and wide-spread. We bargain for power with God and we are naturally upset when God appears to welsh on the deal.

The difficulty is we never understood the contract. I don't mean God has used some celestial fine print in dealing with us. I mean, rather, we have not spent the time to find out what God means by power and to see in the Bible how power is employed. Today's Gospel lesson provides us with a beautiful example of how we followers of our Lord can ignore what he says quite clearly and try to impose our own agenda on him even though it contradicts his most basic teaching.

Jesus has just finished describing in some detail the fate that awaited him in Jerusalem, "to be mocked and scourged and crucified." Nor was this the first time he had explained to the disciples about the death he was to undergo. On an earlier occasion he and Peter had had words on the subject, and Jesus had even called Peter the devil and told him he was not on the side of God because he protested the suffering to which Jesus was called. So the announcement that Jesus was shortly to be condemned to death by the authorities should not have come as a surprise to his followers.

Enter Zebedee's wife and her two sons. Talk about a power play! Not only was she seeking power for her children, she did not scruple at exercising maternal power and sympathy in an effort to influence Jesus. She knelt, we are told, in an attitude of supplication, not for herself, but for her sons. "Command that these two sons of mine may sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom." Although she was not seeking power for herself, it can hardly be overlooked that her sons would not fail to be grateful to a mother who had so interceded for them.

Jesus denies the request by saying it is not his to grant, and then he has to deal with the indignation of the other ten disciples who, it would appear, had some designs of their own on the better properties in the coming kingdom. They, too, it seems, had paid little attention to Jesus' earlier statement about his imminent death. Now, in no uncertain terms, Jesus explains to them the basis for Christian life and service: "Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave; even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." Jesus turns upside down their whole philosophy of life. Earlier he had told them, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

It appears that service and death and power are all related in the mind of Christ. Paul later was to recognize that when he acknowledged the power of Christ working through his ministry, in spite of his weaknesses. "We have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us ... For while we live we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal bodies."

The mother of the sons of Zebedee does not disappear from the Gospel's stage after this refusal of her request. She followed along with the others of his company and made her way to Jerusalem with the rest. Perhaps she still clutched at a hope that although the petition had been denied, it had not been forgotten, and maybe Jesus would yet intercede with his Father to answer a mother's prayer. How terrifying the truth must have been to her early on that Friday morning when the two Marys came running to tell her the news of the arrest in the garden and the rumors of a sentence of death by crucifixion. She was as determined as the other women, who had followed him from Galilee to minister to him, that she would not desert him now in this last hour of need, even when all the noble hopes were dashed. The little band of women made their way through the streets and out to the edge of the city to the public dump, where the dirty business of death was done and society discarded its social misfits, along with the rest of its garbage and waste. Her tears must have been not only of grief for Jesus, whom she had loved and served, but grief for all the fond hopes of the kingdom that would never be, a kingdom where her sons might have had a place to the right and left of the throne. Her thoughts must have been bitter with anger and regret as they finally cleared the city gates, and the scene on Golgotha's slope came into view.

What she saw was not one cross, however, but three. No one had told her it was a multiple execution. Good God! Had they arrested some of the disciples as well and found them guilty of some co-conspiracy? Her sons! Could they be hanging there? What had he asked them? "Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?" Surely he had not meant this! And what had those stupid boys answered? "We are able." Is this what she had asked for? If only she had known! And then the joyous recognition that the two men dying on the right and left were not her sons. Someone else had been found to serve.

She had begun by wanting power for her sons - for herself. Now she was simply satisfied they had gained their lives. What she could not quite yet know was those who lose their lives will find them, for there is power in service; there is power in the cross.

CSS Publishing Company, Path of the Phoenix, by Kendall McCabe