CAN YOU DRINK THIS CUP?

The Twenty-Ninth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B)

Isaiah 53: 10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10: 35-45

For the past six weeks, our Gospel readings have focused on Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, a journey that will ultimately lead to his death and resurrection. And the evangelist Mark has invited us along. The journey began with a question: “Who do people say I am?” And Jesus revealed that, yes, he is the longed-awaited Messiah, but not necessarily the Messiah that the people thought they were getting. Rather than the warrior king who would free Israel from the oppression of Rome, he was the savior who would free those who believed in him from the ravages of sin and death. And in the process, he would be rejected, suffer, be killed, but ultimately rise from the dead. But, as typical of Jesus, on the rest of the journey, Jesus doesn’t focus on himself, but on the Apostles . . . and on us . . . and on what it means to be a disciple of such a Messiah as he.

In the past weeks we’ve heard that discipleship means welcoming, accepting, the child, the poor, the sick, the outcast; it means avoiding sin and being examples of righteousness to others . . . that following him means not only obeying the commandments, but HIS law, which often goes above and beyond, and sometimes contradicts what is commonly accepted - the norm, the status quo. Jesus told them that discipleship involves sacrifice – it means leaving father and mother, sister and brother, personal riches, or whatever keeps you from accepting him wholeheartedly. And it means being a servant, rendering yourself to be the lowest of the low and minister to the needs of the hungry, the thirsty, the outcast, the naked, the ill.

Today, one other requirement for true discipleship is given: to drink the cup from which Jesus drinks - a cup that contains the bitter wine of suffering.

In today’s Gospel, we hear a bold request by the brothers, James and John: “Lord, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you!” It’s bold, indeed, but probably not much bolder than how you and I often pray. Don’t we find ourselves saying, “Lord, this is what I want. This is what I need. This is what I want you to do for me or for someone I love – and I’d really like you to do this for me now.”

And what were James and John asking for? To sit at the right and the left of Jesus when he enters his kingdom. In the culture of the time, to sit at the right or left hand of another meant to share in his power and prestige. And after all, didn’t they deserve it? They were faithful . . . they made the made the sacrifices . . . they left everything behind – families and careers to follow Jesus . . . FOR THREE YEARS! And they were special – they were among the three or four Apostles that saw things, heard things that Jesus didn’t reveal to the others. So, obviously, their commitment, their role as Apostles, was great, and they deserved the seats of honor and power. Right?

But Jesus knew the cost of having such a seat was great. It meant taking and drinking of the cup that he would drink – the cup of suffering. And he tells them that they really don’t know what they’re asking for. Are they willing to drink the cup of suffering that he’s about to drink? He wasn’t destined to be a powerful ruler the way earthly rulers are powerful. Rather, the cup he drinks is the cup of suffering, the cup of his blood poured out for others. The baptism with which he is baptized is his passion and death. Jesus’ cup and baptism point to the cross, the only earthly throne he will ever occupy. And having no idea in the world of what Jesus was talking about, James and John answered together, “We can!”

James and John agreed to face what Jesus was facing, to drink the cup and accept the baptism, but they hadn’t fully understood the challenges they would face. And, indeed, the prediction came true. James was martyred early in the life of the Church. John, preached the Gospel, was ultimately arrested for it, and was condemned to live a life in exile. Each, in his own way, gave up his own life to serve in obedience to God. Both drank the cup of Christ. Both chose to take the seats God prepared for them, seats of service and suffering that led to eternal life rather than the seats of honor they had sought.

Sometimes we’re like James and John. In our hearts and with our words, we freely commit ourselves to the Lord but often without a thought or a clue about the Cup - the Cup from which Jesus invites us to drink - the Cup of suffering. Although we worship every Sunday in the shadow of the Cross and eat the Bread and drink the Cup that proclaim his death until he comes again – we might still miss what James and John missed: that there is no following the Lord apart from a share in his suffering.

Discipleship is not about following the king to his castle, it’s about following him to his cross. This isn’t upward mobility. It’s downward mobility. Jesus is showing his disciples that true greatness isn’t found in climbing to the top and exercising power over others. Rather, true greatness is found in self-emptying, self-giving love. Unlike worldly rulers who lord it over others, Jesus tells his disciples, “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.”

This is basically the Gospel in a nutshell and the spelling out of what the good news of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ means for his disciples. It’s still shocking . . . or at least it ought to be.

It’s amazing that Christians might ever imagine that somehow on account of their faith, they will escape suffering in this life – that we will experience heaven on earth. Rather, Jesus promises us just the opposite: if we would follow him and we will drink from his Cup, the Cup from which he himself prayed to be delivered on the night before he suffered and died, our lives will be lived, not in a Garden of Paradise, but, rather, in a Garden of Gethsemane

What kind of suffering is in the Cup Jesus offers us? His Cup holds more than the suffering that comes in every human life: the suffering of physical and emotional pain, the suffering disappointment, hurt, loss and grief. More than all that, the Cup Jesus offers us holds the suffering that comes: from being faithful to God’s word when that word asks more than I’m ready to give; from being faithful to God’s law of love when my beloved, my friend, offends me; from being faithful to God’s truth when a lie would be so much easier; from being faithful to God’s justice when some other deal would favor me; from being faithful to God when I think I know better, that I know more than God.

On the night before he died, Jesus gathered at table with his friends and knew the suffering that would be his on the next day and wanted to share with us the grace of the sacrifice he was about to make. He took bread, as his Body, and broke it for us. And he took wine, as his Blood, and poured it out for them and for us. The Cup of Suffering we’re invited to drink is made from the steel of the 10 commandments and the gold of Jesus’ gospel of love and mercy. The Cup of Suffering is filled with Blood of Jesus, his blood spilled on the Cross for us and given to mix and commingle with the blood of our daily lives. To drink from this Cup is to seal our Communion with the him and with one another.

"Can you drink of the cup of suffering from which I drink?" Jesus asks. Today, when you approach the altar to receive the Eucharist and do this in memory of him, your “Amen” is your “yes” to do just that.