Matthew
20:20-28
20 Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to him with her sons,
and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. 21 And he said to her,
"What do you want?" She said to him, "Declare that these two
sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your
kingdom." 22 But Jesus answered, "You do not know what you are
asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?" They said
to him, "We are able." 23 He said to them, "You will indeed
drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to
grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father." 24
When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. 25 But Jesus
called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles
lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 26 It will not
be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant,
27 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; 28 just as the
Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom
for many."
What makes a person great? Is it his physical stature,
towering over all others with an impressive display of bodily power? Is it her mental
prowess, able to cunningly unravel the most difficult situations and place
herself in a position of power? Is greatness found in material wealth, the
means to buy and possess a great deal of property? Is it found in the power of
a family name and the reputation that precedes it? Or does greatness lie in the
degrees, titles, and awards one may accumulate in a lifetime?
Perhaps it was with one of these definitions of greatness
in her head that the mother of the sons of thunder comes to Jesus. Perhaps she knelt
before the Savior with a swelling sense of maternal pride as she boldly came to
ask him a favor. It’s possible she found her two boys to be the most
exceptional of all of Jesus’ disciples (after all, she was their mother). Maybe
she saw in them the physical ability to bear the trials that were ahead for a
warring messiah; maybe she saw in them a reflection of the man to whom she was
married and a desire to see them in a place of prominence. Then again, she
could have simply been trying to fulfill her duties as a mother, trying to look
out for her two sons and secure them a place of power and greatness in the
coming kingdom of God’s Messiah. Whatever the case may be Matthew tells us that
Mrs. Zebedee knelt before Jesus and asked a favor of him concerning her two
sons.
Now, I have to tell you, the way Jesus responds in verse 21 catches me by surprise. I
mean, this woman comes to Jesus, kneeling, asking a favor of him, and Jesus
seems to say coldly, "What do you want?" He
doesn’t sound kind, caring, or even polite; just a straight-to-the-point
question. I would expect Jesus to at least say something like, “What troubles you my child?” or “Ask and it will be given to you.” Jesus,
however, doesn’t say anything of the sort, just "What do you want?"
Maybe he knew what was coming. Maybe he had overheard her discussing her plans
while they had been walking along, and he was just waiting for her to spring
this loaded request. Either way, the mother of James and John doesn’t miss a
beat. She sees her opportunity and she boldly instructs Jesus to "Declare
that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your
left, in your kingdom."
What a bold thing to do! Not only does she forget to say
“pretty please,” she just comes right out and asks this favor for both of her sons—she’s not a mother to
play favorites! I suppose she thought Jesus would grant her request, or perhaps
she’s one of those people who live by the philosophy “You’ll never know until
you ask; after all, what’s the worst that could happen?” I’m not sure of her
motivations for making such a request, but I imagine she didn’t expect Jesus’
response in verse 22: “You do not know what you are asking.”
It is as if Jesus says to her, “I don’t think you get how big a deal this thing
you want for your sons is.” Jesus, however, doesn’t give her a lot of time to
process his response before he turns to the two sons themselves: “Are
you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?"
Now, perhaps these two brothers put their mother up to
this whole thing, and maybe Jesus saw right through it all and that’s why he
turns his attention towards them. Or maybe Jesus turns and asks them this
question as a way to test them before fully responding to their mother’s request.
Either way, Jesus’ question isn’t some awkward inquiry about using the same
drinking vessel. No, when Jesus speaks about drinking the cup, there would have
been no doubt in the minds of the two brothers, and everyone else listening,
that Jesus was talking about a cup of suffering. “Are you able to drink the cup
that I am about to drink?" means “Are you able and willing to go through the ordeal of suffering that I
am about to go through?”
It’s a loaded question, a heavy response to a weighty
request, yet these two brothers answer in unison "We are able." "We
are able:" they answer quickly, confidently, without any need for
reflection or consideration. And Jesus seems to acknowledge their response as
genuine, not a veiled attempt at appeasing him, when he responses in verse 23: "You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at
my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been
prepared by my Father." I’m sure that wasn’t exactly the response
Mrs. Zebedee (along with her sons) was hoping to hear. Jesus affirms that they
will indeed suffer (and we know of James’ martyrdom), but in the end the
decision as to who gets the places of power and judgment at his right and left
hands…well that isn’t up to him. Whatever hopes of future greatness James,
John, and their mother had likely came to a grinding halt with Jesus’ ambiguous
affirmation of their suffering. Perhaps greatness has less to do with ambition
and positions of power than any of them realized.
Now, right off camera, there stood the other ten
disciples, each perhaps just as ambitious as the Zebedee family, and I can only
imagine what words were being exchanged among them as they witnessed this scene
of fraternal favoritism play out in front of them. Matthew tells us in verse 24, “When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers.”
Can you blame them? I can’t help but wonder what Peter and Andrew (brothers
from the same area as James and John) must have thought. I can just see them
now, calling James and John “Mama’s boys,” saying to themselves how they had
left their own mother back in Galilee to follow Jesus; they didn’t need her to
go asking favors of the Messiah. The others are just as angry, of course, and I
think I know why. It’d be easy to say they were angry because the whole fiasco
had interrupted the flow of their journey and caused a commotion among Jesus’
followers. It’d be very righteous of them if they were angry because of the
selfishness veiled in such a request made by the mother of James and John. I
believe, however, that they were angry for none of those reasons. No, I believe
they were angry because they didn’t ask Jesus first! They weren’t the first
ones to ask Jesus about getting the best seats during the judgment, and now,
thanks to the meddling of a mother and her two sons, it sounded like none of
them were going to get those prized seats.
Can we blame them for being angry though? I mean, think
about it: how many times have you waited patiently for something to come your
way only to see someone else swoop in with the right words, the perfectly timed
actions, or an insurmountable pile of luck to yank the proverbial rug right out
from under your feet? How many times have you been a part of a group and had to
carry the majority of the work load, only to see the prize go to someone else
who worked the least? Of course we’d be angry right along with the rest of
those disciples, because we’d feel like we had been robbed of an opportunity
that was every bit as much ours as it was theirs. But why? In the end, why do
we get angry at all about someone taking an opportunity from us? Why are we so
easily embittered towards someone else who has done the very same thing we had
intensions of doing? Why? Because we are easily motivated by ambition and a
drive to be better—better than now, better than what we are, and most of all,
better than everyone else.
I think that was at the heart of the disciple’s
anger—they each wanted to be better than the other. Surely there had to be a
second-in-command, a ranking disciple. Surely among the twelve there had to be
one or two who stood out, one or two who would get to be Jesus’
“right-hand-man” when he came to power in his kingdom. They were all secretly
jockeying for position in the group, hoping that Jesus would draft one of them
to stand as the leader, the head disciple. They wanted recognition, a title,
significance, rank…yet when Jesus gets wind of what’s going on in the group in verses 25 and following he says,
"You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their
great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever
wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be
first among you must be your slave.”
Can’t you just
hear the wind leaving the sails? Can’t you just see that group of disciples
(right along with Mother Zebedee) hanging their heads as the breath leaves
their lungs in a collective sigh of recognition? As they were all but falling
over each other in an attempt to achieve greatness, to outdo one another, Jesus
tells them, “If you really want to be
great, you’re going to have to be slaves to one another, because that is what I
have come to be.” They’re out of cards to play. No one can claim any special
qualifications over another. If they are going to be great, they’ll have to be
servants, slaves. If they want to be first, they’ll have to settle for being
last.
And no one likes to be last. No one likes to be called a
slave. Yet that is the calling Christ places on his disciples—all of his
disciples. The call to serve isn’t a call that comes from a God who desires to
watch his people dance like puppets as he pulls the strings. The command to be
last, to be a slave to one another, doesn’t come from a God who makes sport of
servitude. The kingdom call to service comes from a God who “came
not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many."
The Lord Jesus Christ calls us to put aside our selfish ambitions and our
personal pursuits of what this world deems as greatness so that we may serve
one another in the love of God. Christ has laid down his life to free us from
the bonds of sin and evil, and in doing so has become our ultimate example for
living a life of service.
Christ has given his life for you and for me. How are you
being a good steward of such an eternal gift? Are you striving to lord your
power over others? Are you seeking more titles, more positions only so you can flex
your influence in the world around you? Are you planning to simply sit on the
sidelines, hoping that everyone else will bear your load so you can enjoy the
ride? Just as Christ came not to serve but to serve, he calls each and every
one of us who are known by his name to serve one God, to serve one another, to
serve his Church, and to serve the world. Christ gave his life as a ransom for
you. How will you serve as a better steward of such grace from this day
forward?
Let us pray…
No comments:
Post a Comment