Pasadena Presbyterian Church Sermon Text
October 19, 2003 

"A Throne Full of Splinters"
Preached by The Rev. Dr. Mark Smutny

Scripture:  Hebrews 5:1-10; Mark 10:35-45

I would like to put this Sunday's gospel lesson in context.  By this point in Mark's account of Jesus' ministry, Jesus has predicted his suffering and death three times.  Three times the disciples have heard Jesus directly speak of the sufferings that will befall him and they still find it utterly incomprehensible that the way of the Messiah and the way of faithfulness should also be the way of the cross.

In this passage, Jesus speaks of his "cup" and his "baptism" using Old Testament metaphors for the trials that would accompany the in-breaking of the long-awaited Messianic age.  Now listen for the word of God: 

(35) James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, 'Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.'  (36) And he said to them, 'What is it you want me to do for you?' (37) And they said to him, 'Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.' (38) But Jesus said to them, 'You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?' (39) They replied, 'We are able.' Then Jesus said to them, 'The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; (40) but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.'

(41) When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. (42) So Jesus called them and said to them, 'You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. (43) But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, (44) and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. (45) For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.'

- Mark 10: 35-45

Barbara and our son, Ken, are traveling for a week on the East Coast, visiting colleges and universities.  I hope that by the time they return this Saturday Ken will have come to his senses and decide to go to school in California, so that his Mom and Dad can be eased into the empty nest with a little more gentleness.

The college application process has gotten more and more complicated through the years.  Parents now pick pre-schools for their three-year-olds on the basis of the school's record of placing its graduates into Yale Law School.

One of the things we've been required to do as parents is to fill out triplicate forms for Ken's  school guidance counselor extolling his brilliant academic accomplishments, fine leadership skills, and amazing, almost Olympic athletic prowess.

The forms go on for pages, but there is no clear place that we can talk about the deep sense of empathy he has for the powerless, like the time in fifth grade when he walked out of his classroom to go find the principal because he thought the substitute teacher was excessively berating a girl who had dissolved into tears.  There's no clear place to report the way he noticed that one of his eighth grade classmates was hinting of suicide and after his expressions of concern were ignored by the administration, he didn't give up, but sought the help of his parents, who intervened.

Empathy, compassion, a pattern of not bowing down to arbitrary authority, a gutsiness about naming injustice even when he is likely to get in trouble, a solidarity with the powerless ... there is no clear place on the form for these traits.   In my theology they are Christian virtues, but they don't necessarily mean they will advance his applications in a world that primarily values competition and success, power and prestige.  The forms are seeking information about things our world really values: accomplishment, achievement, being the best at everything, and striving to be number one.

Jesus tells us that the world's ways are not his ways: leadership is about humble service, being great is about being small, and that if you want to follow in his path, the way will be rife with suffering.

The Gospel of Mark regularly pictures this alternative, upside down view of leadership and servanthood.  The regular reaction of the disciples is confusion.  They have a difficult time getting it. 

When Jesus first predicts in chapter 8 that he will end up on the cross, the disciples are simply confused and even angry.  Simon Peter rebukes Jesus.  In Mark 9, after Jesus makes a second prediction, the Twelve jostle for position and argue with one another over who is the greatest.  Jesus responds, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all, a servant of all."  Though it never made it into the canon, they then argue and jostle about who among them will get to be the last in line.

Then in today's text in Chapter 10 which follows the most detailed prediction of Jesus' persecution and death, James and John, surreptitiously approach Jesus and say, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you."  It's an annoying, self-serving, narcissistic ploy.  Except that religious folk do it all the time.  "God, if do this one little favor for me, then I'll . . ." Fill in the blank.

Jesus responds to this plot with a question, "What do you want me to do for you?" 

What they want, it turns out, are cabinet appointments in the new administration.  "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand, and one at your left, in your glory."  When the reign of God comes, they want to snuggle up to power as close as they can get, breathe in its intoxicating aroma, and with hard-earned authority and clout get things straightened out.  Then seated beside the throne of Jesus, they will right wrongs, reduce taxes, increase services, and bring back the days when God and humanity were right with one another.

I simplify things.  I think it's a mistake to presuppose that the disciples were only motivated by gross ambition.  I think it's more subtle than that.  I think they were trying to be deeply faithful and do the right thing.  James and John genuinely believed that Jesus was the One and that his kingdom would be far better than all the heartache and brutality, the desperation and injustice that permeated their nation and people.  In spite of Jesus' grim warnings, in spite of the storm clouds gathering on the horizon just ahead of them, they were so sure that Jesus would usher in a new kingdom, they wanted to be an intimate part of it.  They wanted to be in the center of a new age and a new way of being faithful people.

The plausibility of this analysis is compelling because, after all, these two disciples, along with Simon Peter, were the ones that Jesus picked out of the litter as his chief assistants.  When the others were left back at home, these were the ones who were his closest friends, his intimates.  They were in a place of privilege and it felt good to be so close.  So it was natural for them to vow that they would stay with him, follow him and seem willing to do whatever it would take.

"Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?Are you able to be baptized into the baptism that I will undergo?"  They still don't have a clue as to what he means, but they eagerly say, "We are able."  Jesus tries again to tell them what it will really be like.

They seem to think that in God's kingdom, the new world will be set up just like the old world, only with a different set of leadership.  After the recall, the bad guys will be tossed out on their bums, the head table polished, and the chairs will be fumigated to rid them of the lice of corruption and the fleas of incompetence.  Jesus will be seated on the main throne, the campaign manager will be to his right and his chief of communications will be on his left.  Once the house has been cleaned, the table deck cleared, and the most loyal members of the campaign staff installed.  Then these good people, good, decent, highly motivated people, will get down to the process of redeeming the world from on high, from top to bottom.  Trickle down reformation.    

"That's not the way it works," Jesus tells them one more time.  "The new world of my kingdom bears no resemblance to the world of old.  Those who are number one are not the powerful ones with all the clout having their pictures taken at the head table, they are the ones putting the plates on the table, filling the water glasses and taking out the garbage after the banquet is over.  The great ones are stirring the soup in the hot kitchen, scrubbing the floors and enduring the petty demands of the privileged with quiet grace."

James and John want Jesus to hurry up and be installed as the benevolent dictator of the world with a heartfelt assist from his closest associates, but he has other things on his mind.  He sees the gathering clouds on the horizon.  Has everyone been served?  Is there food on the table for everyone?  Has anyone been left out?  Excluded?  Ignored?  "For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

We've heard this teaching so many times that we have become disassociated from its impact.  The end of the line is the best place to be.  It's better to empty bedpans than administer the hospital.  Washing dishes after a church dinner is more important than being the keynote speaker.  If you love God, then you will be satisfied with a status that is less, while others grab for more.  Humble servants are more important that those in power. The greatest reward is not a engraved plaque but a dish towel.

If we are honest with ourselves, these reversals are incomprehensible.  The only way it makes sense, is to understand servanthood as some intermediate stage.  For this  current suffering, there will be a later reward or, as one of my college religion professors put it, "A big piece of pie in the sky in the sweet bye and bye after we die."  It's like a training camp for Christians.  Do your time with the servant thing.  Stifle the whining and get box seats in the time to come.

"That's not the way it works," Jesus tells us one more time.  He doesn't  pretend to be a humble, fumbling servant, like Clark Kent, and then suddenly appear with Superman garb, seated on a mighty throne, issuing edicts with power and might.  At the core of his being is servanthood.  He has no honored seats to give.  He doesn't have one himself.  Some else is in charge of the seating chart. 

He's not in it for the perks.  He's in it for the love of God which leads him to do everything he can to give it away, to give away the love of God.  The best seat he can ever hope for on this side of the journey is a throne full of splinters.  When he's hung on it, James and John won't be there with him, but two troubled thieves, one at his right hand, a hopeless mess, who doesn't get it, and the other on his left hand, a hopeless mess, who does and joins him in paradise.

Years ago in another church I served, at a deacons meeting the week before Holy Week, the complaint was heard that the deacons were stuck with all the drudgery, cutting bread cubes in the kitchen, washing dirty communion cups, and cleaning used flower vases.  They get a a little ripe.  One up-and-coming deacon asserted that they needed more money so that they could dispense grants and have greater clout.

Days later, Easter arrived and the Deacons had to prepare four times the amount of communion elements, which meant a lot more work, before and after the service. 

After a glorious Easter service complete with brass and all the choirs and an incredible feeling of joy, I processed to the rear of the neo-Gothic sanctuary and went through the double doors to find my greeting station, only to be met by an alarmed church member who wondered if I knew that the women's toilets were completely plugged and could I do something about it. 

A deacon who had been at the church since 7:30 a.m. that morning, stood nearby and overheard the conversation and said to me, "Let me take care of it, Mark.  Today is Easter."

In our day we have a renewed opportunity to grasp the power and the import of Jesus' teaching about servanthood.  Most of us past the age of 40 remember a time when the church held a place of great esteem in society.  Today, much of that has changed for a whole set of complex reasons, not the subject of this sermon. 

Once again, not unlike the First Century, the church finds itself sidelined from the centers of power and influence.  We no longer sit at the head table except to provide some window dressing on occasion.  There is still another possibility.  We can stop looking for the world to give us stature, honor and prestige and go back to our rightful place: to love God, to love our neighbor, to love as completely as we are able for we know that we are completely loved. 

So grab the plunger, a dish towel, and a heart of compassion and join Jesus on the way to his throne.  In Christ, everyday is Easter.  Amen.  

(c) Copyright 2003 by Mark K. Smutny.  All rights reserved.  Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution.