'You do not know what you are asking'
Sermon preached in St Salvator's Chapel, St Andrews on the 22nd of October, 2006 by Matthew Ross
Readings: Job 38: 1 - 7 (34 - 41) and Mark 10: 35 - 45
Sermon:
'You do not know what you are asking', said Jesus to the disciples James and John.
What were they thinking of? Did they imagine themselves as Jesus' special friends, with a privileged status symbolised by being seated on Jesus' right and left like honoured guests sat next to royalty at a state banquet?
The almost childlike naivety of their question may cause us to wince, but the response of Jesus is telling. 'You do not know what you are asking'; instead pointing out that the call of Jesus was to serve and suffer, not to seek self-promotion and glory. And Jesus then alludes to the forthcoming events of the last supper, his crucifixion, resurrection and ascension:
'The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism which I am baptised you will be baptised; but to sit at my right hand or my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those whom it has been prepared.'
This was not the first time that Jesus told his disciples about his forthcoming suffering and death, but still the message seemed remote and unreal to the disciples. They were to share the same cup at the last supper; and at Pentecost they were present with the other disciples when the Holy Spirit descended upon them, but the sharing goes far beyond the symbolic or the tangible.
'Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant', said Jesus, 'and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.'
Not to be served but to serve. Today marks the start of One World Week, which falls every year on the week which includes 24th October United Nations Day. One World Week is marked by local events to celebrate the diversity of cultures in our communities. It is an opportunity to join together to learn and share in caring for the Earth and its resources. It aims to promote taking action for justice, equality, peace and fullness of life for all. You do not know what you are asking, said Jesus. But if we believe that we can see Christ in our neighbour and God is God of all and for all, then we must not be afraid of asking difficult questions, pertinent questions, challenging questions about justice and worth of humanity.
This is a call to service in this world as well as the next; it is the subversion of conventional structures of power, wealth and authority. The cross becomes highly political. The cross is more than just the forgiveness of sins because Jesus died; this cross this ugly symbol of torture and barbarity becomes a symbol of defiance against all the malice and cruelty that can be found in the world. The two people who would be on Jesus' left and right at the crucifixion would not be James and John. They had fled. Two thieves would be crucified next to Jesus; one of whom sought and was granted the assurance of forgiveness.
So the cross becomes a rallying call against human pride and greed. And that's bound to be dangerous, because those who have much to lose won't want to lose it.
Since 2003 I have worked in Brussels with the Church and Society Commission of the Conference of European Churches known as CEC for short. CEC is a fellowship of 125 member churches, mostly from the Protestant and Orthodox traditions, including the Church of Scotland, German Lutherans through to the Greek, Serbian, Romanian and Russian Orthodox churches. It was founded in 1959 to keep contacts open between churches in western and Eastern Europe despite the Cold War. It's but a small part of building one world.
Fellow Christians often know very little about those from outside their own tradition. Like James and John, do we not sometimes ask naïve questions, because we hardly know what to ask? Last week I organised a conference at Corrymeela in Northern Ireland, bringing together people from Northern Ireland and former Yugoslavia to discuss the role of religion in conflict situations. Last Sunday we worshipped in Whitehouse Presbyterian Church near Belfast, where the church building (and that of the neighbouring Catholic Church) were both destroyed by fire in separate malicious sectarian attacks. Both have been recently reopened. Such atrocities could have easily increased suspicion, but a large majority in both communities came together to support the rebuilding of both buildings both making generous donations to the other.
Kosovo has seen a far greater loss of life than Northern Ireland. Over 100 churches some even older than this lovely chapel have been burnt down. Atrocities have been committed by both sides and the sense of insecurity is palpable. Again, there is a temptation to label such conflicts as 'religious'.
'You do not know what you are asking', said Jesus.
Those who committed murder, intimidation and wanton criminal damage did not know what they were asking. They lived out the incoherence of hatred and division. They could only express themselves through acts of destruction.
But it is too easy to lapse into judgementalism, condemning the sinner rather than the sin. So instead, particularly in a seat of academic rigour, the aim must be to know what we are asking and indeed why we are asking it. Some Christians particular new one - may fear that difficult theological questions may lead to doubt. Are we afraid that we might have an eggshell theology hard and brittle on the outside, yet fearful that a few knocks may cause it to break? Yet we have seen how Christ is able to discern our fears, our naivety, our fragility. Such frail humanity contrasting with the authority of God is vividly expressed in our reading from the Book of Job. But, as expressed the Psalmist, God is our Rock and our Redeemer.
And if ecumenical dialogue is hard, then how much harder is inter-faith dialogue. Yet the urgency and seriousness of this topic in today's society demands that we move beyond mere politeness into the asking of hard questions. The legacy of the past thousand years from the Crusades to 9-11 show that little progress has been made and suspicion and misunderstanding are still rife.
'You do not know what you are asking' said Jesus. Theology, according to St Anselm's historic definition, is faith seeking understanding. Our relationship with God cannot be built on privilege, defensiveness, sectarianism or the currying of favours, but focused on the cross, on Christ's example of service and suffering love.
In seeking to build one world, a reconciled world, a healed world, we do know what we are asking.