This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on October 21, 2018. It’s based on Mark 10:35-45 and was deeply influenced by a powerful sermon President Louise Johnson of Wartburg Theological Seminary preached on this text as part of the Northeastern Iowa Synod Fall Theological Conference. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Mark 10:35-45
James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to Jesus and said to him, ‘Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.’ And he said to them, ‘What is it you want me to do for you?’ And they said to him, ‘Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.’ 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?’ 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; 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.’
When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. 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. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’
What is it you want me to do for you?
Really, Jesus? That’s how you’re going to respond when two of your twelve disciples come to you saying, Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you?
How about, Try again, guys. I’m not here to be your personal vending machine?
Or, I literally just got done telling you how I’m going to be mocked, spit upon, flogged, and killed when we get to Jerusalem, and after three days rise again, and this is what you want to talk about?
Or, Um, how about your ten colleagues? You don’t think whatever you’re about to ask for isn’t going to tick them off?
But Jesus doesn’t say any of these things. Instead, he asks a clarifying question: What is it you want me to do for you?
And their response? Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.
How audacious and egotistical and downright ignorant can you be, sons of Zebedee? Jesus has just predicted, for the third time, his suffering, death, and resurrection, and you’re still looking for an earthly kingdom where this relationship you have with Jesus will pay off big time?
I’ve never had much empathy for these guys (in case I haven’t made that abundantly clear by now). But earlier this week, at our synod’s Fall Theological Conference, I heard President Louise Johnson of Wartburg Seminary preach on this text. And she challenged my lack of empathy for James and John.
They were asking for what made sense in the only world they’d ever known—a world where rulers lorded over their subjects and great ones were tyrants; a world where might made right; a world where power was held tightly by just a few at the top of the pyramid, with the vast majority suffering at the bottom from poverty and injustice.
What if they weren’t asking for too much, President Johnson asked, but for too little?
What if they were asking for too little, because despite all that Jesus had tried to tell them, and all that Jesus had tried to show them, they still couldn’t imagine a world with God as king?
A world with Jesus as Lord?
A world with that pyramid turned upside down?
A world with no pyramid at all?
A world of abundance and justice for all?
A world where leaders are servants of all?
A world where Jesus doesn’t just do for us whatever we ask of him, but gives us his very life?
What if we ask for too little, because we can’t imagine the reign of God either?
Immediately after this episode, Jesus again asks, What do you want me to do for you, but this time he asks the question of Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar. Bartimaeus calls out to Jesus for mercy. And when Jesus asks him, What do you want me to do for you, he responds, My teacher, let me see again.
This word for teacher is not the same word James and John use earlier. This word for teacher is Rabbouni—my master, my teacher. Only one other person in the Bible calls Jesus Rabbouni, and that is Mary Magdalene. Weeping at the empty tomb on that first Easter morning, she mistakes Jesus for the gardener. But then he calls her by name, Mary. And her eyes are opened to see Jesus for who he really is. Rabbouni.
Somehow, even before the light of the resurrection dawns on a weary world, Bartimaeus is able to see the transformed world God is bringing about through Jesus. He sees, clearly, that what Jesus brings is mercy.
He dares to ask not for power and glory, but for hope and healing—trusting that his master, his teacher, has come to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind (Luke 4:18). He trusts that his master, his teacher, has come to the world to give his life as a ransom—to secure release1 for all those held captive by sin and sorrow, death and dis-ease.
Jesus said to Bartimaeus, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.
On the way to Jerusalem, on the way to suffering and death, on the way to servant leadership, on the way to boundless, redemptive, unconditional love for the world.
What is it you want me to do for you? That’s the question Jesus asks you today. What is it you want me to do for you?
Offer him your hopes and dreams, your sorrows, your confessions. Jesus will hold them ever so gently. And then he’ll invite you to see that maybe, just maybe, your list is too narrow, too small. He’ll invite you to trust in the reign of God, to believe in a world that is not yet, but also already, whole and healed and free.2
Rabbouni, let us see.
Amen.
1 Thanks to the Working Preacher podcast for this explanation of ransom as securing release. Listen to it here: http://www.workingpreacher.org.
2 While I wasn’t able to take notes, and so am not able to quote her directly, this paragraph was especially influenced by President Johnson’s sermon.