So, let's face facts. We all want to be the best at one time or another. We want to be the kid in class who gets chosen to beat the erasers; we want to be the gold medalist; we want straight A's; we want to fix something and have it actually work better. We, each in our own way, want to better ourselves.
And it's really no surprise that the sons of Zebedee want to get close to Jesus. To be the folks that Jesus turns to when he thinks, “Now, who can I trust to get this done right?” I can dig it.
But there come times when the line gets crossed. When “I want to better myself” becomes “I am better than you.” And once that line is crossed, “I am better than you” becomes “you are worse than me...you are less than me...you are worthless.” And it's an easy line to cross.
In fact, Christians have been crossing that line for years, for centuries. In fact, since the first Christians started meeting together, trying to figure out loopholes to all that “love God and your neighbor” nonsense.
It's always been around.
I am reminded of my life as a child, growing up in the South. My great grandaddy had a black friend (though 'friend' might be a loose term). They would listen to baseball together in my great grandaddy's garage, but it would never cross his mind to invite his friend into the house. And I was witness, on more than one occasion, to when my great grandaddy would drive right past his friend walking down the road, knowing how many miles that old man had to walk to get back to his run down home. My Christian great grandaddy. How he treated his Christian 'friend,' simply because he had crossed the line between believing 'I am closer today to Jesus' and 'I am better than you.'
Jim Crow. Laws of segregation that went into place less than five years after the Civil War was over. Laws that instituted a virulent, racist “bless their hearts” form of discrimination in our nation, as if slavery was never ended. And even when I was a child, just years after the landmark Civil Rights Act, people in my community would stand and shout and spew all sorts of hatefulness at people who wanted to simply claim the term “neighbor” in Jesus' “love your neighbor” lingo. Who dared to stand up and demand nothing more than to be treated as a neighbor.
As good Christians just stood by.
I think Jesus maybe knows what could happen here. I think he know how thin that line is. How easy it would be for even James and John to eventually look at the other ten disciples and think, “Who do these people think they are?” I sometimes think that when Jesus talks about drinking from “the cup,” he's not talking about a cup of suffering. He's talking about a cup of love and respect and sacrifice. Drinking from a cup that demands treating others with love, regardless of their situation in life. That's what we say in our baptismal vows, and I think that what Jesus is saying here is we need to be pretty darn sure we are willing “to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.” Drinking from that cup is hard, y'all. And Jesus knows it, even if we don't.
Because Jesus knows how thin the line is. And how easy it is to cross it. I think Jesus knows just how easy it is for “good Christians” to just stand by.
There is a heresy in Christianity. And it crops up particularly, from time to time. It's broader term is called “supersessionism.” It is a general belief that God has not just blessed us with a wonderful, loving relationship through Christ, but that we are superior beings. That God has placed us on earth to overcome others and rule over those who have different faiths.
Today we see this, in our country, in the various forms of White Christian Nationalism, a strange amalgam of unrealized twisted Christian fear and envy sandwiched into a desire to abort our national democratic experiment, all in the service of being white. And a belief that this brings them closer to Jesus, a non-white, Jewish guy, who would be an immigrant if he came here.
They are people who, as Jesus says, want rulers to rule over them and tyrants to punish all those who are different. How easy it is for them to cross the line. And to believe that they, and they alone, speak for God. And how easy it is for them to fall into the belief that their God is so weak and scared that they have to belittle, terrorize, and crush others in God's way.
And y'all, that's not only a heresy, that's not only a sin, but frankly, these people are being flat-out dumb.
Because, like we hear from the book of Job, the Voice of God comes booming from the powerful, uncontrollable Whirlwind. Job has demanded that God explain things to him, and God storms up to Job and says, “You want a piece of me? You want to see who I really am? I'll show you just who I am.”
And he does. And Job sees, and Job knows. God can do just fine on his own. God doesn't need our help.
God set the foundation of the universe, and stretched out the measuring lines in the dawn of creation (when the morning stars sang together with all the heavenly host). But God is also very much still in the act of creation today. He knows where the storehouses of snow and hail are, and where bolts of lightening gather before their use. He carries the light of day to its place every morning, and then ushers it out again every night. He helps the eagle soar, the lion roar, and he watches over Leviathan when it roils the deep waters.
God announces that he is present in the terrific and the mundane. God is everywhere. Active. Thoughtful. Crafting the ebb and flow of creation, and each day’s journey.
And God is there for everyone. Liberal or conservative. Black or white. Jew or Gentile. Queer or straight. God is there for us all. Not just white America.
Jesus knows this. And in the most remarkable part of our Gospel reading, he does the most remarkable thing. He walks James and John back over that line. He walks them all back over that line. And he walks us back over that line. Back to this side of the equation. The side where the people are.
Because, y'all, our job as Christians is not to decide who's in and who's not. Our job is not to get closer to Jesus. Our job is to get closer to those in need of love, of caring, of justice. Or job is to serve those in fear of retribution and vengeance. Our job is to serve those living in the shadows of a looming cloud of physical and political violence. Our job is to go where the need is, to comfort the afflicted, and to bring the Gospel to the darkest corners of our nation and the world.
We are always called to do this, but today more than ever. Because despising others has become chic. Hatred has become commonplace. Rudeness has replaced respect. Violent behavior has become a fun outing at Wal-Mart. And belittling others who are different has become the way to get more clicks on Twitter and Tik-tok.
And it is our job to stand up to this. Not to stand aside as so many of my people did in the South. But to stand up! To link arms, and to shout, “Enough!”
And it is then, and only then, that we will draw close to Jesus.
Amen.