Do you have a favorite mug or cup? I brought mine. For the longest time, it was one my baby sister bought me with her own money when she was about 4 years old from the dollar store. But a couple of years ago it fell and broke, so now I have this one. I took a look at the mugs here at the church and chose a couple of my favorites. We have the Backstreet Boys and then we have this racquetball tournament consolation prize and finally, I love these kind from the 60s and 70s.
The disciples have their favorite
mugs. And this is where they go when
they here this, Jesus’ third and most graphic prediction of his death. They are so uncomfortable with what Jesus has
to say to them, that he will be killed, that he will suffer, that he will be
mocked and beaten, they retreat to their favorite mug and they are ready to
choose their seats in relationship to Jesus, in his glory. They want to skip to the good part. Last week, remember, they were just saying
how they had left everything to follow Jesus.
Isn’t it time for them to get rewarded for the good they did? Especially because he will soon be leaving
them, they figure it is time for them to ask for what they want.
“Jesus,” James and John request, “We
want you to give us whatever we ask.” I
don’t know about you, but when my kid asks me to give me him whatever he asks,
I know to be suspicious. I know this
will be a whopper of a request. And they
do not disappoint. “We want to sit next
to you, Jesus, in your glory.”
I imagine Jesus taking in a deep
breath, to keep himself calm as these two are completely missing the point,
completely ignoring the preparation he’s trying to give them. Here’s their chance to ask Jesus about how he
might feeling as he faces this stress.
Here’s there chance to support him and thank him and they are thinking
of themselves and what they want to get out of this—what they want to fill
their cup with. Jesus says to them, “You
don’t know what you are asking.” He asks
them if they are willing to drink the cup that he drinks. He asks them if they want to borrow his
cup.
Jesus’ cup: it’s complicated. On the one hand, the Disciples had likely
shared many cups with Jesus in all the meals they shared. They shared a cup at Passover every year,
which helped them remember the story of deliverance from slavery in Egypt. Jesus’ cup was full of blessing—the disciples
would have understood that. Maybe by
being on either side of him, they hoped that as his cup overflowed, they would
catch some of the runoff. They knew this
story from the Hebrew scriptures about Melchizadek—a mysterious priest who
blessed Abraham and gave him bread and wine, as Jesus does for us. They wanted the ancient blessing, not
remembering all the difficulties Abraham faced.
Jesus’ cup was not just one of glory
and blessing, but also one of suffering and sacrifice. Remember in the Garden of Gethsemane, just
before he is arrested, Jesus prays that God would remove the cup from him, that
Jesus won’t have to be arrested and killed.
Then Jesus adds, “Not my will, by thy will be done.” This scene in the garden happens just after
Jesus shares the last supper with his disciples, passing a cup that is a new
covenant, a new promise in Jesus’ blood, that is poured out. And finally, the next day, just before Jesus
breathes his last, he is given a drink up there on the cross. Remember that? “Are you able to drink from the cup that I
drink?” Jesus asks, knowing they are not yet able. We sing the servant song of Isaiah, this
morning. The same one that we use on
Good Friday. It reminds us exactly what
cup Jesus drank from—“because he poured out himself to death, and was numbered with
the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the
transgressors.”
When the disciples ask to share his
cup, they are thinking of wine and parties and all the goodness and blessing
that they think is theirs because they gave everything up to follow Jesus. But they are missing part of the story. Sometimes, we too, think we can share the
blessing of following Jesus and going to his parties, without drinking the part
about suffering and sacrifice. When
James and John ask to be seated next to Jesus on his right and left, those
seats are taken by the two criminals crucified on either side of Jesus. Maybe James and John would have been in those
places if they had fessed up to knowing Jesus when they were asked in the
Passion story. But they all denied him,
denied knowing him, denied that they shared a cup with Jesus.
Jesus asks them if they are willing
to be baptized with the baptism he received, which is also a reference to
death—a drowning of the old self, and rising to new life. You can’t have the new life without the dead
of the old self. This is a very hard teaching and it’s no wonder the disciples
don’t understand, and Jesus’ disciples today also do not understand.
Sometimes in church, I raise up my
arms. I invite you to see it like a
cup. I invite you, too, to try it
sometime. Your raised arms are a cup waiting
to be filled. They are a sign of what
has been poured out, or left behind, in order to have room for all that Jesus
pours. This is a cup of suffering, of
death, to be filled with Jesus’ blood.
It is a vulnerable and open stance of readiness for all that life
brings, knowing that Jesus will walk with us through the joys and valleys of
shadow.
It is true that we will all drink
the cup he drinks. We will all die.
And we will all live in newness of
life, in abundance of life, even now.
Sometimes an awareness that we will die wakes us up to the beauty of
this world, in appreciation, and it wakes us up to the injustice of this world,
in horror. When we can look death in the
face and realize that it isn’t the worst thing that can happen, that living in
a world ordered by fear and hostility and prejudice is unlivable, it is
literally hell, a continuous cycle of torture for people who have nowhere to
live, for refugees, for people who have been shunned and thrown out because
they are gay or lesbian or transgender.
This world is a mess and what good news it is that we aren’t alone, but
God is with us and that it won’t always be this way. God has a plan for the healing and wholeness
of all Creation. It won’t always be this
way because we will go to be with God where everything will be ordered in a way
that life is shared and that justice and peace will reign. And it won’t always be this way because we
pray, “Thy Kingdom Come, on earth as it is in heaven.” This new life and reign of God is not just
for after we die. God is teaching us to
risk everything, to give up everything that is in our cup, to pour it out for
those who have nothing, to re-order our world so that every mouth would be fed,
every tear would be dried, everyone would have shelter and access to health
care, and not have to fear bombs dropped by our country or any other, people
wouldn’t have to fear going broke paying for their medication, and that we would
respect this beautiful earth God made and let the animals be fruitful and
multiply as God intended them, not for our use, but for their own innate
goodness and for their own sake. God is
working through us to bring peace and justice now in this life to all who
struggle and drink the bitter cup of poverty and violence and suffering. Knowing
that we will die and that we will be at peace with God, both in this life and
the next, we can let go of the fear that we won’t have enough in our cup and
follow where Jesus leads us.
There was a time in the beginning
when God’s cup felt empty, so God created the heavens and the earth, looking
for someone to be in relationship with, delighting in Creation. God filled God’s cup with this amazing earth
and all it’s creatures, and humankind, made in God’s image, self-aware and able
to return love. And God was able to
drink the cup, to take the good with the bad, to revel in conversation and in
the workings of creation in balance and peace.
God was able to drink the cup, when humans began making poor choices and
going our own way, breaking the covenant, hurting each other and all that God
has made. God drinks this cup with us
everyday and never lets anything get in the way of relationship and
forgiveness. God drinks this cup knowing
that the bitterness and pain will not be the last word, will not be the last
drink, but that at the last we will feast together in paradise.
Many of the folks I’ve known who
have received a cancer diagnosis, I find them emptying their cup, realizing
what is most important in life, letting go of expectations, and making room for
this new reality. They know they are in
God’s hands, in the hands of scientists and physicians who have been empowered
by God for healing and the alleviation of suffering. They notice the blessings they are drinking
in, and give thanks for them. The
appreciate the efforts by those who love them to give support and
encouragement. They are looking death in
the eye, as we all do, and living with that cup of blessing mixed with
struggle. God takes that cup and drinks
it together with us, our Great High Priest who emptied his cup to become one of
us and shares our cup of blessing and sorrow.
Today we share this bread and cup, with all the meaning it brings. It means death, it means life, it means
judgement, it means forgiveness, it means suffering, it means joy. And through it all, Jesus walking with us,
feeding us, celebrating with us, dying with us and rising to abundant
life. Take and drink, Jesus blood poured
out for you and for the great multitude for the forgiveness of sins. Then pour yourselves out, trusting in God’s
grace and compassion to fill your cup again and again at the feast that has no
end.
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