An age-old question: If you found a genie in a lamp in
the desert and he granted you one wish (no wishing for more
wishes, everyone knows that), what would you choose?
In the Gospel for this Sunday, James and John have undoubtably
realized that, by being in the presence of Jesus, they have
something better than a thousand genies – God
himself. So naturally they set to wishing.
Jesus humors them. After all, these were the guys he
nicknamed “Boanerges,” Greek for “Son of Thunder.” They’re
also the first two in recorded history to want to call in an
air-strike on a town that wouldn’t accept them or their master
(Lk9-54). Our Lord was probably used to their shenanigans,
well-intentioned but often misguided and over the top. He
liked and loved them. So, he rolls with their banter and
their bold request.
Unlike many of us, at least James and John have their eyes set
on the right prize to reign with Jesus in his kingdom in his
glory. So often, we set our sights too low and settle for
paltry things, fleeting happiness. We’re often very bad at
knowing what we really want or what will truly bring joy.
For instance, folks spend their whole lives wishing to be
millionaires. Then by luck they win the lottery, blow the
whole lot in a year or two, and are right back in being broke,
or the money causes family drama, etc. Their wish did not
satisfy. More often than not, our perfectly granted wishes
cut against our own interests or come with unintended side
effects. For generations, stories of King Midas and the
Monkey’s Paw have served as a cautionary tale here. What
we think we want often leads to our own undoing, so we ought to
wish wisely.
If James and John are wise in their wish, they are at the same
time unwise in realizing precisely what it will entail. Of
course, they picture worldly power, without end. Sons of
Thunder reigning down upon the masses. Yet, that way leads
to doom, hell. In contrast, Christ reigns in glory on the
throne of the cross. His power is self-donating love, a
resurrected love that presumes that crucifixion and death come
before it. Further, those who sit on his right and left
are the two thieves crucified with him who embody the razor-edge
choice before each and every one of us at the end of all things:
Do we accept the cross and mercy and self-gift, and allow it to
lead us to life, or . . . the other alternative?
Jesus earnestly desires to give them (and us) their wish to
share his glory, but first their (and our) hearts must be
prepared to see and accept it. Every single human heart
pines for union with God, but no one can enter into love unless
they’re willing to make a gift of themselves. Thus, every
heart must be reborn by water and the Spirit, broken and
refashioned and filled with the lifeblood of Christ to be thus
set free to wish wisely for what will really satisfy.
Thus, Jesus tries to explain: Do you wish to drink the cup which
I drink and be baptized with the baptism with which I will be
baptized? One imagines their minds running back to the
river Jordan and the wedding at Cana, splashy baptisms and fine
wine. “Sure Lord, we’ll take a bath and enjoy whatever
wine you serve.” They still miss the point, and so do
we. Faith and understanding take time to grow and set
in. Christ patiently continues the lesson to the two and
the ten. To enter into Christ’s glory, we must humble
ourselves and make a gift of ourselves in self-sacrificial love.
The beautiful truth is that, nourished by the blood of Christ at
the Last Supper and baptized by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost,
James and John eventually will come to wish for the Kingdom of
God and all it entails, and thus inherit eternal glory as
saints. There’s nothing stopping us from- and mountains of
grace helping us for – embarking on a similar
transformation. But the question remains: What are we
wishing for, really? And will it get us where our hearts
really want to go.