Ascending Downward
The disciples had to know that the opposition was growing. Pharisees were questioning. They had been to Jerusalem before for Passover but this year’s trip was different. Mark reminds us that they are on the move, “They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way.” And the disciples are astonished and those who followed were afraid.
I read an article in Time magazine about what makes scary music scary. Scientists found that we biologically respond in fear to sounds that are like distress sounds in nature – a baby crying, the rumble of an earthquake – and the scientific, jargon name for those sounds is “nonlinear chaotic noise.”
The disciples and those following Jesus were astonished and afraid. Jesus is headed toward Jerusalem in the midst of a lot of nonlinear, chaotic noise.
The tension is mounting. They know that the confrontation is coming. And Jesus keeps strangely saying that the Son of Man will be betrayed and condemned to death, killed and then three days later he will rise. He has taught in parables, but he explained those. They can’t figure out what this means. Is it code? What they know is that he is going to rise. He will be victor. And they want to be there with him to share in the glory.
It is interesting that Mark puts the scene with James and John asking to sit at Jesus’ right and left back to back with the story of the healing of Blind Bartimaeus. Remember, I told you Mark is an excellent writer and that we find lots of layers of meaning in his writing? These two stories have parallels that help us understand the word of ascending downward as we go from the mountain to the cross.
James and John are confident. They come to Jesus and say, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” Bartimaeus sits by the roadside begging Jesus to have mercy on him. He waits for Jesus to call him.
Jesus question when James and John come to him is the same question that he asks when Bartimaeus comes, “What do you want me to do for you?”
James and John are so certain that he will come out the ruler that they ask to be his top officials, to sit at his right and left in glory. Bartimaeus wants to see. Jesus’ response tells us who really couldn’t see. He says to James and John, “You don’t know what you are asking.” He says to Bartimaeus, “Your faith has healed you.” What couldn’t they see?
Rev. Dr. Samuel Wells is vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Fields in London. But from 2005 until 2012, he served as Dean of Duke University Chapel. And while he was at Duke, in a sermon on leadership, he told about an experience he had when he was involved in a large-scale, community-led economic redevelopment program. He said, “I poured a great number of hours into the process of shaping a plan, gaining funding, establishing a company and trying to bring more jobs, better education and better health to the neighborhood. Four or five years into the process, I found myself staying late after an evening meeting, having a disagreement with one of the most prominent neighborhood leaders. I was worn out and frustrated, and I said to her, “Why d’you think I’m involved in this process? Why d’you think I’ve been involved all along?” She said, without blinking, “I assume it’s for the sake of your career.” I was stunned. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I thought, “I live here, I don’t live anywhere else. I’ve put a mountain of hours into this program. What do I have to do to show you I care about this place? And if you think this is the kind of neighborhood where career-hungry clergy spend their 30s, I’ve got news for you.” But I didn’t say it.
In his sermon, he reflected on that exchange and saw that in an important way she was right. Because, he said, “she was really saying you’ll never be the right leader for this community because your identity isn’t sufficiently tied up in it….She was saying she didn’t see those things in me. Sure, I could be a spokesperson between the high ups in City Hall and the local leaders, between the suits and the streets. And sure, I could chair meetings and keep us within the rules. But I was always going to be seeking my identity beyond and outside. She put her finger on that, while I refused to see it.”
Blind Bartimaeus is ready to change identity. “Rabbi, I want to see.” He is a professional beggar. His whole livelihood, his name, is Blind Bartimaeus, and he is ready to give it up. When he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” He didn’t care that the crowd was hushing him. He didn’t care what people thought of him. He didn’t come up to Jesus because he thought he was worthy. He was at the mercy of Jesus, and he knew it. And he was ready to give up everything to follow.
James and John, though, don’t see, and neither do the other ten disciples. They are indignant with James and John for going to Jesus and asking to sit on his right and left. They don’t see that Jesus is ascending downward, “whoever wants to be first must be slave of all,” says Jesus, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve.”
We have a tendency to change “slave” to “servant” when we translate now. We realize that the Bible was misused to justify slavery, and we bristle at places where being a slave is lifted up. But, here, I think the full connotation of slave is critical to understanding what Jesus is saying. The whole identity of a slave is determined by the owner. A slave is labeled with the master’s name. A slave does the work of the master. Jesus is not a slave to God. Jesus is a slave to the world. Jesus came to take on our identity and to serve to the point of death, us. He has no other purpose or motivation. He has no other identity.
Jesus asks James and John and Blind Bartimaeus the same question: “What do you want me to do for you?” But their purposes and motivations are completely different. James and John want to add to their identity; they are anxious to secure their future positions of power. They approach Jesus to see what they could anticipate, “what’s in this journey to Jerusalem for us?” they ask. But Bartimaeus is willing to be wholly transformed – for his whole identity to be changed. He cries out to Jesus for mercy and when Jesus heals him, he follows.
What if Jesus asked you, “What do you want me to do for you?” What would your answer be?