James and John and greatness in the kingdom in Mark 10

The gospel lectionary reading for Trinity 21 in this Year B is Mark 10.35–45. The lectionary choice is unfortunate this week, in that it cuts out the verses following last week’s read, Mark 10.32–34. Not only do these verses provide continuity with last week’s reading about the (rich) (young) (ruler) man, but they are an integral part of the section, with reference to the Son of Man at the beginning and end.

The opening phrase ‘And they were on the road/way…’ is translated by different phrases in various translations. It provides a narrative demarcation of a new section in the gospel, as does the comparable phrase ‘As he was setting out on his way…’ in Mark 10.17 (both using the Greek term hodos which we know in English from our word exodus ex-hodos, the way out) but it also connects with the theme of discipleship that is the subject of the exchanges in these passages. Luke famously uses this motif to frame the central section of his gospel; in Luke 9.51 Jesus ‘sets his face to Jerusalem’, and Luke then organises his material thematically on this journey of discipleship until Jesus reaches the city in Luke 19.41 and weeps over it. The theme continues into Acts, where five times in Acts 9.2, 19.9, 23, 22.4 and 24.14 Christians are described as ‘followers of the Way’.

Jesus is ‘going up’ to Jerusalem, in part because we tend to ‘go up’ to important places, in part because Jerusalem is actually in the hill country of Judea, and so you have to climb (quite steeply in places) to get to it, and in part because the eschatological hope is that

the mountain of the LORD’s temple will be established as the highest of the mountains; it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it (Is 2.2)

Jesus is depicted as striding ahead, with both the Twelve and other followers trailing in his wake; this is indeed the reality, with Jesus having a clear view of the cost of his own obedience, whilst even those closest to him still fail to grasp what it means to follow him. Though many ETs supply the subject ‘the disciples were amazed’, there is no subject specified in Greek, and it might be that both amazement and fear applied to all who came after him—after all, the language of ‘following him’ is discipleship language. (Note that Matthew and Mark mostly avoid the term ‘apostle’ though it is a favourite term of Luke for the Twelve.)

As Jesus draws nearer to his ordeal, the disciples do not draw nearer to understanding. (David Garland, NIVAC, p 410)

It is striking to note that a common response to Jesus was not only ‘amazement’ but also ‘fear’; if Jesus is taking them into unfamiliar territory, then that might well be quite a natural reaction. If it isn’t part of our discipleship, are we neglecting something important?

We get the impression from the Fourth Gospel that Jesus is often frustrated with the Twelve, and stands at some distance from them, not least because there are so many episodes where he is acting alone or having one-to-one encounters with others in the absence of the disciples. Yet here, despite their fear and their failure to understand, Jesus’ gracious response is not to push them away or stride off into the distance, but to ‘take them aside’, to draw them in close, in order to help them understand.

It is worth comparing this third prediction of his Passion with the previous two in chapters 8 and 9.

Whereas the first was reported, the second and third are expressed in direct speech of Jesus. The first notes the general suffering leading to his death; by the third all the details of what will happen are filled out. And it is particularly striking that the sequence of ‘handing over’ is now spelled out: the Jewish authorities will hand him over to Gentiles, correctly noting that he will be killed under the jurisdiction of Rome, not Jerusalem (hence Rev 11.8). The more direct and more detailed prediction strongly suggests that Jesus has been meditating on the reality of what he has to face.

The Messiah will suffer indignity and a shameful death. Then he will be handed over to God, who will resurrect him (David Garland, NIVAC, p 410).

Is it significant that, this third time, Jesus includes the disciples—’we’ are going up? Perhaps they will stand with him after all?

All this forms the context for the request of James and John that follows; their quest for glory stands in stark contrast to Jesus’ prediction of humiliation, and that is why Mark holds these two things together in one narrative unit. So should we.

Matthew 20.20 softens the offence of the request by having it in the words of the mother of James and John, Zebedee’s wife (presumably) though when Jesus asks her a question in v 22 it is James and John who reply—so they cannot have been far behind! Luke 22.24 omits their names entirely. As is customary in Mark, they address him as ‘Teacher’. If you want someone to do something for you, but are afraid that it is too much to ask, then a cunning tactic is to get the commitment to act before the act itself is specified, which is what James and John do. But Jesus doesn’t fall for it!

He neither succumbs to the manipulation—nor does he refuse them outright. Instead, he wants to know the request. Perhaps they have in mind the promise of exultation of ‘the Lord’ who is to come as prophesied in Ps 110.1—though as there is only one ‘right hand’, someone will need to settle for second best. Jesus has indeed mentioned his ‘glory’ earlier in the gospel—but this was in the context of not being ashamed of the suffering of the Son of Man (Mark 8.38). It is extraordinary (Mark tells us by his narrative arrangement) that the disciples still do not understand the path that Jesus must follow to this glory. The only other time in the gospel where this phrase ‘one at your right, and one at your left’ occurs is in the description of those crucified on either side of Jesus in Mark 15.27. This is what it means to sit with Jesus.

In contrast to his sharp response to Peter in Mark 8.33, but in line with his response to the (rich)(young)(ruler) earlier in this chapter, Jesus treats their request with the utmost seriousness, which in context seems remarkably gracious. The language of ‘cup’ and ‘baptism’ are not sacramental terms here, but derive from Old Testament imagery of suffering and death. The ‘cup’ is most often the cup of God’s wrath and judgement, and being overwhelmed by water (especially in a culture which probably did not swim) signifies death (see Ps 42.7, Is 43.2). The brothers’ confident reply is surprising, but yet again Jesus takes them seriously; there will come a time when they both understand and faithfully follow the path that he treads. Yes, as he will go on to say, despite his suffering providing us with a pattern of life that his disciples must follow (compare Paul’s comment in Phil 3.10), what his accomplishes will be unique and not replicable.

As the parallel in Luke 22.24 makes clear, the other disciples are not cross with James and John because they have misunderstood Jesus’ teaching, but because they beat the others to it in making their request! Jesus realises this, and once again ‘calls them to him’, a phrase signalling the need to come close to him and attend to important teaching (see Mark 3.13, 3.23, 6.7, 8.1).

There was a strong sense in the ancient world that those who ended up as leaders did so because they were born for this, fated for it, and it was their rightful role. Aristotle, for example, talks about husbands as being by nature fit to rule over their households as kings are by nature fit to rule over nations. It is a common assumption, and continues to play out in our world; research shows that those who reach the top of the pile consistently over-estimate their own role in their achievements, and under-estimate the importance of sheer chance. The powerful often have a strong sense of entitlement, that it is their natural role to succeed and have power over others.

There is one interesting detail here in Greek which I spotted whilst in conversation with James about this passage see the video below), and which I have not seen in any commentaries. The phrase translated ‘high officials’ in the NIV in Mark 10.42 is in fact ‘their great ones’, οἱ μεγάλοι αὐτῶν. This could function as a translation into Greek of the Hebrew term Rabbi, which means ‘my great one’, and became a title used in deference to respected teachers. This sits alongside Jesus’ warning about deference to others in the community of faith in Matt 23.8–11:

But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called ‘teacher,’ for you have one Teacher, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant.

These instructions are pretty clear. I was always struck by the comment of my hero when a teenager, David Watson, who never allowed people to ‘sit at his feet’, since we all, together, sit at the feet of Jesus.

Once again, the teaching of Jesus, including in the context of the people of God, challenges me to ask: why in my denomination do those who are ‘over us’ insist on being the centre of parades in services, wear ornate clothing, and insist on being addressed using such terms of deference? How is this not a direct contradiction to the teaching of Jesus? The culture of the Church of England is deeply deferential, and this seems to me to lead directly to abuses of power, such as the one which is currently causing a scandal in the Scottish Episcopal Church. This also raises questions about the exercise of authority in the local church, even when the culture appears to be more informal and less hierarchical. How in practice can we exercise leadership in a local congregation, and at times bring challenge and change, and still take seriously Jesus’ teaching here?

This also offers a challenge to those in positions of power and influence in a ‘secular’ context, for example in the work place. Power is real, and it needs to be exercised, since power is the ability to make things happen and get things done. But how do we exercise this power in a way which genuinely serves others, rather than being fuel for our own self-aggrandisement?

These are hardly marginal questions about discipleship. They actually go to the heart of who Jesus is, and what he has come to do. Paul links Jesus’ downward movement, from the glory of being in the presence of the Father, to his self-emptying in the incarnation, ‘taking the form of a servant, and obedient even to the point of death’ (Phil 2.7–8) as the pattern for our relationships ‘having the attitude [to one another] that Christ Jesus had’ (Phil 2.5). In doing so he is echoing how Jesus connects this teaching with his own role, in perhaps the most important summary verse in the whole of this gospel. We have been told many times that Jesus must die; this is the only place where we are told why he must die.

For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10.45)

This is both an example and a unique achievement. The language of ‘ransom’ is used for compensation for personal injury (Ex 21.30), or a crime (Num 35.31–32), for purchasing the freedom of an enslaved relative (Lev 25.51–52) and as a price paid for the equivalent of the sacrifice of the firstborn (Num 18.15). Outside scripture, it is used of the redemption of a slave or prisoner, to redeem a pledge, or reclaim something that has been pawned. In different ways, Jesus does all this for us in his death and resurrection. There is no doubt that the Servant Song in Isaiah 53 was in the mind of both Jesus and the gospel writer in this saying.

Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life an offering for sin…For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors (Is 53.10, 12)

Jesus thus provides the answer to the question that he asked his disciples earlier, “What can a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Mark 8.37). The psalmist asserts that no ransom avails for one’s life (Ps 49.7–9). That is true if we think we can pay the ransom ourselves. But this text affirms that Jesus pays a price for others that they cannot pay for themselves (David Garland, NIVAC, p 413).

And, of course, the liberation that Jesus offers is a liberation from the need to assert, protect or defend ourselves by the exercise of power over others. He sets us free to be servants to others as he has been a servant to us.

Come and join Ian and James as they discuss all these issues: