Seeking a Sense of Security

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

“Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you” the Zebedee brothers say to Jesus himself this morning. This reading makes me laugh every time it comes around. Foolish boys, having the gall to demand anything of Jesus, and seemingly, lacking even the most basic understanding of his teachings in their request for some kind of special, elite status. It is laughable.

And, this time around, I gave some thought to where they are that might have made them act so outrageously; so impulsively. What might have happened to provoke this. Well, the lectionary cuts the piece that lends us some more context. Just before what we heard from the Gospel this morning, Jesus says:

‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.’

It is directly following these words that James and John come forward with this request. And given this context, I wonder if the tone might have been less that of a demanding and spoiled child, and more that of an anxious and scared child.

Perhaps less like boastful ambition. And more like fearful bargaining. “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you” And what they ask is this: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” They ask for positions of prominence. Honor. Power, even. But I wonder if what they are really asking for here, is security. Something sure and strong to hold onto in the face of the scary days ahead Jesus has previewed for them.

Jesus responds to this request gently. Here’s the thing, he says. You don’t even know what you’re asking for. You’ve lost the thread. You will be, always and forever, a member of the Body of Christ. Marked as Christ’s own. But where you are in this theoretical seating chart you’re imagining? That’s not even a concern of mine.

And after Jesus says this, as any close-knit group or movement or family will do in times of anxiety and uncertainty and fear … the disciples start losing their temper with one another.

Things start spinning out control. And I imagine Jesus using the time out signal. Okaaaay people, okay okay. Listen. Listen.  I know this is scary stuff. I know. What lies ahead in Jerusalem is not what you would have wanted for us; for me.

But you will not make this go away or solve this either by reserving some imagined throne to the left or right of me. Or by being at each other’s throats, competing for positions of honor, each over the other; the way most of the world around us operates. Because God’s reality does away with all of that. In God’s reality, the very best thing is to serve. Not to be served. And that is what you, disciples, must do. Start living in God’s reality right now. Start showing people this counter-cultural, counter-intuitive way of being that, in the end offers true freedom.

The idea that the disciples were looking for some sense of security deeply resonates with me. I will admit here that I am a person who spends probably too much time thinking I can plan and prepare my way out of every unwanted or unexpected outcome. No matter how many times that proves to be untrue.

 And it occurs to me that this morning Jesus is saying to his disciples, to us, that so often we think we want security – insurance, armor, protection against the unknown. Against our deep feers. But God’s dream for us is ultimately not security. God’s dream for us is freedom. Freedom from those forces that make us pine for reserved club seats next to Jesus.

 In God’s dream for us we human creatures finally, finally understand and believe the truth that our deepest fears – of being alone, of being unloved, of death itself -- have never been relieved by the unending pursuit of wealth, or honor, or power, or authority. Only bandaged over, unhealed.

 We’ve always, collectively, known this – I think. The miserable end to a misguided life seeking relief from all these fears through power and wealth shows up in the stories we have told ourselves – art, and plays and books and movies from the beginning of time, I suspect. MacBeth, Citizen Kane. But those stories are so ubiquitous because we are so prone to falling into that trap, I think.

A trap that even the church itself has and does struggle with. Over the centuries, seeking to prove its superiority through violence and war. Its importance through close ties to the state and centers of power. I think we’re seeing the Holy Spirit lead the church away from those pursuits. I am glad.   

It’s so tempting. So logical. To imagine that we can insulate ourselves from all of the hard and scary things by reserving those expensive seats. Building thrones for ourselves. Seeking a sense of security in imagining we can have control over all the things, over the future. That we can own the kingdom and the power and the glory.

But those things, as we remind ourselves here each week, belong to God. And only to God. Which, when I really breathe and think about it, is such a a relief. Being in control is seriously overrated. Allowing that grip to loosen can be a marvelous feeling.

 So no Jesus does not honor requests for special seating next to him. He does not offer a security system to keep out the suffering that will be a part of this human experience. What he does offer is instructions for living God’s dream for us. “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

I imagine each of you has a story of a time you felt that particular sense of freedom in following these instructions. In serving instead of being served. In letting go. Of ambition and of control. If you’re like me, these may be fleeting, and you may go through long periods of time as that feeling wears off until you again find yourself in someone’s service. A friend, a neighbor, a stranger even. And something clicks into place. It’s this – the serving – that feels so right, even when the wider world around us insists the goal to be served. To be on top. The real truth. God’s truth. Is always right there. Vibrating in the background.

God’s dream of freedom for us. And that is the thing that is truly sure and strong to hold onto.