What is it to be great?

Christian mothers, like all mothers want to see their children be successful. They want to see them do well in school, to get a good job, to have a family, and to be generally satisfied in life. They want their children to be close to Jesus. To be near him at all times. This is nothing surprising for us.

The mother of James and John wants what most mother's want. She wants to see her sons succeed, and in a more particular sense she wants her sons at Jesus' side.

But there is quite a startling difference in the request of James and John's mother. They seek more than a good life or contentment. They seek to gather glory unto themselves, to be seated on Jesus' right and left, i.e. to be calling the shots alongside the Messiah in his kingdom. They want to secure positions of authority. Fundamentally, they do not understand what this new king is all about.

Jesus, picking up on this quite quickly, notes how typical rulers use their authority in such a way that it makes their subjects feel the burden of power. And then in comes Jesus' deal breaker:

It shall not be so among you.

It shall not be so among you.

Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant.

Jesus completely flips our conventional notions of power upside down. Nothing he is or does is what we would expect when we hear the words ruler, king, or savior. Look at his life:

He is born in a stable on the outskirts of a town.

He grows up in a family that makes their living with their own hands.

His proclamation as king is an entrance into Jerusalem, not on some majestic war horse, but a mere donkey.

He hangs out with sinners, tax collectors, and the possessed—the societal rejects of the time.

His coronation is mockery and a crown of thorns.

He was crucified as a criminal.

Some king, many scoffed and understandably so.

But this is who Jesus is. And if he really is who he says he is, and who we profess him to be, then this is who God is. This, the traveling preacher and healer who, abandoned by his closest friends, died on a tree, is what God is. And that is radical.

We talk of how incomprehensible the incarnation is, of God taking on human flesh and weakness. And yet, how often do we forget the sheer absurdity—folly to the gentiles, a stumbling block for Jews, as St. Paul says—of what this looks like? The God of all becomes a man? He comes not to praise himself, but to serve others? He dies? And this somehow glorifies the Father?

The very thing we hear James and John request is the very thing Jesus rejected when he was tempted in the desert—stability, security, and power. He does not run around flaunting his authority, telling the world how amazing he is. Instead he goes about proclaiming the kingdom of God, something which takes on flesh in feeding the hungry, freeing those wracked by evil spirits, healing sickness, reaching out to the unreachable. For what is the incarnation other than God reaching out to the unreachable, to the lost... to us? Jesus is a servant. He is the servant. He is what God wants to communicate to us each day, in each moment, in this Eucharist. He is God who is none other than Love in humble service.

The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.