When this particular episode takes place, Jesus and his disciples are walking toward Jerusalem. Maybe I should have said that before I read the scripture to you, so you could picture them all, walking on the road, heading toward Jerusalem.
And maybe I should have also said that, by this point, Jesus had spoken to the disciples three times about what would happen to him in Jerusalem: how he would be arrested, mocked, tortured, and killed.
But even though he had told them these things three times, the disciples still didn’t understand. They still expected Jesus to be triumphant, which in their minds meant not death on a cross but a taking over of power, in victory, in glory.
I mean, just look at the determined way Jesus walks toward Jerusalem. There is no hesitation in his steps. He’s not flinching, as one would expect, if the only thing he had to look forward to was arrest and execution.
So, the disciples follow Jesus, confident in his victory, but unsure how, exactly, that victory will come about. After all, the armies of Rome are powerful. Unconquerable… The disciples follow Jesus, but they are a little more hesitant in their steps.
This is when James and John rush forward, alongside Jesus, and make their request, to sit at Jesus’ side, one on the right, and one on the left.
They don’t fully understand what they are asking, or what lies ahead for Jesus, even though he has talked about it repeatedly. Jesus even says to them, “You do not know what you are asking.”
Maybe they’re thinking that, by being at Jesus’ side, they will be protected from whatever dangers are coming, still not understanding that sticking close by Jesus’ side wouldn’t protect them, but would, in fact, lead to greater danger, since Jesus will be the one who suffers most of all.
They’re not imagining suffering or danger. They’re imagining Jesus, crowned in glory, sitting at the royal banquet table.
They have been to many banquets with Jesus, but none as elegant as the one they imagine they will sit at once Jesus reigns in glory—a banquet table fit for a king.
And what’s true at every other banquet table would most certainly be true at a royal banquet table: that high importance would be placed upon those who sit to the left and to the right of the king.
These are the seats of highest honor. At any formal banquet, if you sit there, the servants will serve you first, and pay most attention to you. Your wine glass will never be empty. You will be treated like a king, because you are seated next to the king.
For this reason, a good host pays close attention to the seating arrangements. The host, or one of the host’s servants, tells the guests where to sit as they arrive. If not–if, perhaps, all the guests show up at once, or if the servant gets distracted with other tasks—then there might be a jostling for seats, as the guests all seek out the seat in the highest position that they think they could get away with.
That’s why, on another occasion, Jesus instructs his followers to not seek the higher seat, because if someone more important than you comes in, the host or one of his servants would tell you to move down, and that would be embarrassing. Imagine walking into a banquet room, taking a higher seat, because you felt entitled to it, and then being told to move down!
But if you took the lower seat, then perhaps the host would say to you, “move up closer,” and you would be honored.
That’s why Jesus said to seek the lower seat. But that’s hard advice to follow; who wants to take the lowest seat?
It would be like taking a seat in the first class section of the airplane, and then having the flight attendant come by and say loud enough for other passengers to hear: “Sir/Ma’am, you don’t belong here. Please move to the back where you belong.”
Much better to sit in the back, and then have the flight attendant come and say, “We have room up front, we’d like to upgrade you at no charge. Follow me…”
James and John haven’t quite gotten that message. They haven’t yet learned that lesson.
Maybe it was because they grew up in a fairly well-to-do household. Their father, Zebedee, had a fishing business with not one, but two boats. Not many people could afford two boats. And their family had their own servants.
James and John were used to being served. It was hard for them to let go of that.
Notice the first thing they say to Jesus: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”
They want Jesus to do for them whatever they ask? Who makes such a request?
People who grew up with servants serving them, that’s who.
Jesus says, “What is it you want?”
And they say, “Let us sit right beside you. One at your right, and one at your left, in your glory.”
And that’s when Jesus says: “You don’t know what you are asking. You still don’t understand exactly how it is that I am to be glorified, that my glory will come about through suffering and death. Are you able to endure what I am about to endure?”
“Yes!” they say. “We are able!”
Jesus looks at them and says, “Hmmmm. You will endure much of what I am about to endure; but to sit at my right or at my left is not up to me.”
James and John have a hard time understanding Jesus, and what he’s talking about, and what the future holds for him and for those who follow him, in part because they grew up with privilege. Boats. Servants. Security. All this created a sense of entitlement.
James and John felt that they were entitled to those seats of honor, to be glorified next to Christ. They didn’t understand that Christ’s glory would come through suffering or death, or that to be seated at Christ’s side would be to share in his suffering, to share in his sacrifice.
Glory comes through suffering. Glory comes through sacrifice. Glory comes through servanthood.
James and John, and the other disciples, have a hard time understanding this, because this understanding of glory and honor was unique to Jesus, and at odds with everything they knew about how the world works.
Many of us have a hard time, too, understanding these things; understanding how the way of Jesus is so at odds with everything we know about how the world works.
Among the many stories in the gospels of banquets and dinners, perhaps the greatest, most elaborate banquet we read about is the lavish feast hosted by Herod on the occasion of his birthday. At that banquet, no expense is spared. There wasn’t a finer, more luxurious table in all of Judea.
And yet, that banquet, if you know the story, ends in death. It ends in tragedy. It ends in stunned silence.
And then, right after that, there is a description of another banquet.
This other banquet doesn’t take place in a fancy banquet hall. In fact, it doesn’t take place in a building at all, but out in a deserted wilderness, away from buildings, where thousands of people gathered, and had only the ground to sit on.
At this banquet, there is no food, for no one had brought any, except for a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish.
This really isn’t much of a banquet at all, by the world’s standards.
And yet, miraculously, at this banquet, everyone is fed, everyone is satisfied, and this banquet, which started with almost nothing, ends with joy and life.
And at this banquet, the disciples are the ones who serve. They are the ones who distribute the bread to the people.
Well, that’s nice and all, but they still haven’t let go of their desire to be the ones being served, the ones sitting in those seats of honor, reveling in the glory that is a worldly glory, the glory of kings and queens and emperors and pharaohs.
They haven’t yet learned to let go of that entitlement, and to embrace a life of servant leadership.
Which is why James and John make their request…
And why they all argue about who gets to sit in those seats of honor.
It’s hard to give up that sense of entitlement, to embrace the status of a servant, to willingly accept the lower position or lower status, even if that is, as Christ says, the path to true greatness. Whoever wishes to become great must become a servant. That lesson is as hard for me as it was for the disciples. I find it just as hard to give up my sense of entitlement. I want to keep my privilege.
Do you know that I have never been pulled over by a police officer? Not once. And I’d like to think that’s because of my impeccable driving skills, but I know that’s not the only reason. Here in Illinois, according to a study done in 2021, Black drivers are 1.7 times more likely to be pulled over by police than white drivers; the numbers are similar for other states.
And I’ve noticed that, in a lot of situations, people do give me the benefit of the doubt. If it’s my word against someone else’s, I’m more likely to be believed, because of my age, my race, and my gender.
That’s my entitlement, my privilege.
I haven’t traveled a whole lot in my life, but when I have, I’ve been able to do so freely, without harassment. Passing through customs is a piece of cake. A U.S. Passport is a great thing to have.
When Ginger and I got married, 31 years ago, we didn’t have to worry about a baker refusing to bake our cake. We didn’t have to worry about the state, or the church, refusing to recognize our marriage. We were a man and a woman, entering into a heterosexual marriage, something that gets you a higher seat in society than it would have otherwise… just like being white, or male, or a U.S. citizen, gets you a higher seat.
But in God’s kingdom, none of that matters.
In God’s kingdom, we are told to give up our sense of entitlement, to become a servant to others, humbling ourselves, taking the lower seat.
To sit in glory in the kingdom of God requires humility, service, and sacrifice, and may even lead to suffering and shame.
Those without privilege, who sit in the lower seats, are closer to the kingdom of God than those with privilege.
Sitting in glory in the kingdom of God is not like sitting in glory in the kingdoms of this world. In the kingdom of God, the first will be last and the last will be first. In the kingdom of God, those who are down low will be lifted up, and all those who tower over everyone else like mighty mountains will be brought down.
Letting go of our sense of entitlement, humbling ourselves, and serving others is one way we can show kindness to our neighbors. An important way. And every day we have a million opportunities to practice this.
Most of the time, it doesn’t even take very much effort to show kindness and be a servant to someone else. Most days, it’s just a small sacrifice that is required. As Mother Teresa said: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”
Now, there may come a day when we are called upon to make a greater sacrifice, but if we haven’t practiced by making small sacrifices, by setting aside our privilege, and by serving those around us in small and simple ways, then we won’t be prepared. It’s those simple, everyday ways of serving others that help us get ready for all that God calls us to do.
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