October 20, 2024. Texts: Isaiah 53:4-12; Hebrews 5:1-10; Mark 10:35-45.
A baby girl in Spain was born with Down syndrome. In her five brief years of life she was tenderly cared for and greatly loved. An elderly French man lived with a terrible dental condition that left him toothless and with constant painful infections. But his caregivers made sure he had nutritious food that he could eat. A young man on the island of Borneo badly injured his leg in an accident, and a competent surgeon performed an amputation.
It’s a fact that there are a lot of hard and complicated things in life. Perhaps we don’t appreciate how much goes right until we stop to really think about it. But this is not the point of sharing these individuals’ stories with you.
What is inspiring about the Spanish girl is that she lived over five thousand years ago. The man on Borneo lived thirty-one thousand years ago. The French man lived during the Neolithic age.
In other words, these people were cared for even though they were not fully productive, contributing members of society. And they were not the only ones. Archaeological evidence continues to prove this out as better research tools and practices are employed. Elders, people with paralysis, people with congenital diseases, all kinds of people have received care and love and tender memorial burials from their communities since longer than a million years ago.
Remember that biblical story in Ezekiel about the valley of dry bones? Imagine what it means that the bones were left there untended, unburied. Unremembered. There is a terrible sadness to that lonely vision. Was there no one to care?
So what kind of headspace were James and John stuck in on the day they went to Jesus asking for the privilege of being his right and left hand men? Given that they were part of a community that emphasized teamwork, equality, and mutual care, what were they thinking?
Even Jesus said, “You do not know what you are asking.” But the sons of Zebedee said that they were in for Jesus, one hundred percent. Drinking his cup, sharing his baptism. All in.
That’s as may be, said Jesus. But those seats, they’re reserved for someone else. And Jesus didn’t say so then, but later they would see the truth of it. Jesus on the cross with criminals on his left and right.
The other ten disciples heard about what James and John did, and were as mad as wet hens. As angry as a line of standby cars for the ferry when the wrong lane gets loaded. Oh, things were said that day that aren’t printed in the bible. Probably for the best.
But Jesus took it up with the disciples. This matter of caring. How we care for one another. And Jesus made it political. Look at the Roman citizens. Those Gentiles give power and greatness to their elected rulers and what do they get in return? Posturing and parades, Senators and Generals vying for honors.
It’s everyone out for themselves, said Jesus. But you are not like that, right? And what could they say? None of their sentiments are recorded. Only the gentle and insistent words of Jesus about the greatness of serving, and the goodness of wishing to be last.
It was the life Jesus lived. It was the life James, John, and all the others had signed on for. The shared cup of blessing, the baptismal washing into the grace of starting over.
The writer of Hebrews cast Jesus as a priest of the order of Melchizedek. Back in Genesis 14 this priest blessed Abraham. It is his name that is significant. He served in Salem which is the Hebrew word for peace. His name Melchi-zedek means “king of righteousness”.
In a world of it’s everyone out for themselves we need to be reminded that this is not human nature. It is a choice we make every day. All of us will leave behind only our bones and the memories others keep. So those who come after that, what will they say of us?
Will they say that we placed our loyalty with Jesus, the prince of peace, and king of righteousness and lived as best we could into his reign? What do people say of us now? That we care and love and appreciate our brothers and sisters, and all with whom we share this island, this nation, this planet?
Or that we have fended for ourselves to get what we want, leaving behind valleys of forgotten bones. Because we did not choose to care. Because it was a hassle, a burden, or just not our thing.
We hope that after Jesus finished, the ten got up and went to their brothers James and John with forgiveness in their hearts. Somehow their little community did get stitched back together after that betrayal. They would need one another to make it through another far worse betrayal. The one that got Jesus crucified.
And presumably all the disciples came to appreciate that asking for the glory seats with Jesus was never really necessary anyway. When you begin to care as Jesus did, your life will begin to reflect his glory. Because in truth, just like Jesus you’ll already as close to God as you can possibly be. Amen.