This Week: Proper 24B
Gospel: Mark 10:35-45
After Jesus’s third and final Passion prediction, we have a third and final example of disciple hubris. James and John ask to be Jesus’s co-number 2s. Like #2a and 2b.
It is hard not to see this with the eyes of a military command structure, at least the layman’s understanding of commander, officers, and then the rest of the soldiers. That this seems to be what they have in mind. And with a certain contingent of people, this definitely feels like a baller move. People say, you miss all of the shots you don’t take (or whatever). These two are just taking a chance and seeing if it’ll land.
Perhaps.
This, I think, is more than a bit generous as a response, however. Generous to their intention and their ignorance.
To be honest, I really can’t get over the declarative statement they start with—telling Jesus he should fulfill whatever request they are about to make. This, too may be cultural or some other excuse—never mind that nobody else speaks that way to him elsewhere.
Honestly, the whole exchange with James and John really seems bonkers the longer you think about it.
Hubris Redux
This is one of the reasons I find it frustrating that we are to read this passage without the Passion, because these moments of great hubris from the disciples all coincide with these predictions, and start alongside them. This is part of the prelude to the Passion—Jesus is warning the disciples and trying to prepare them for what is to come and they spend the time feeling pretty full of themselves.
This passage, however, more than any, seems to reveal the macro problem for the disciples with where Jesus is leading them, and brings the whole piece around to where it begins: the Messiah.
The messianic concept is to be a leader and liberator—and a king. And so many people for hundreds of years predicted that king would be like David. So, not just a king to ascend a throne peacefully and easily, but a great military leader and conquerer of men who would slaughter and attain for the people a great revolutionary victory. And this Davidic legacy, particularly in the age of Roman occupation was certainly attractive.
So when Peter names Jesus the Messiah, this was part of the deal. Even if Jesus didn’t act like David. And he certainly wasn’t amassing an army like David. At least, not an armed one, anyway. Maybe he would magically force the people to put down their swords.
But then Jesus predicted his death and Peter was beyond confused.
And rather than hear what all of this means, the disciples keep pushing the envelope—at least when it comes to their influence.
- Peter thinks he can step out of line and save Jesus from dying.
- The disciples argue about which of them is the greatest.
- James and John try to take the top spots next to Jesus.
These aren’t the moves of humble followers. Nor do they reflect people who are catching what Jesus is throwing. But they do sound like people who trust the way of the world will always win out.
The Revolt
The turn at the end, is just as interesting for us, I suspect. Jesus doesn’t reprimand James and John, so much as correct them. And he does the same with the rest of the disciples. Because their response to the brothers displayed the same problem.
I’m not sure we’re as prone to see it as a problem, however, let alone the same sort. But I think the problem isn’t in the two taking their shot or in the other disciples wanting to wring their necks, but in their fundamental confusion about how they are to relate to one another, to the people they meet, to the authorities in the world, and to their rabbi and God.
Given everything we’ve read up to this point, and I think we need to be taking that holistic an approach to this, it seems that the problem isn’t so much that James and John want to be the first disciples out of the gates, but to have rank that puts them above the others. And when the disciples go to tar and feather them, Jesus is concerned that the disciples are seeking to make James and John rank below them.
The problem is the ranking.
That’s why he keeps going to that curious articulation about the first being last and last being first and about lording rank over others.
And I suspect that the problem isn’t in ranking, but what ranking attributes. Much like the vision of thinking about Jesus as king is something Jesus resists because people will assume he would kill people because of it.
How we dig into these pieces is where some rich ideas can come in. Perhaps times when we have ranked higher than others and what that made us feel about them.
I’m interested in these moments for what they remind us of—that we actually aren’t better than other people. Not as people. And often, not as children of God.
How does ranking orient our thinking to judgment and disempowerment? When has it really cost us something?