Are You Able to Drink My Cup?

Palm Sunday is a glorious day for Christians, as we celebrate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. But we tend to forget that although next Sunday is Easter, a day even more glorious than Palm Sunday, this week leads through Good Friday. This sermon is a reminder that we cannot claim the glory of Easter if we are not willing to accept the suffering of Good Friday, as difficult as that may be.

We can learn a lot from looking closely at photographs. Have you ever taken the time to compare one of the President of the United States that was taken at his inauguration with one that was taken as he left office? The differences are stunning. The inauguration pictures usually show a man who is strong and vital, full of enthusiasm for the job ahead of him. But later photos are very different. His hair is grey. His face is lined, and the set of his jaw has a certain grimness about it. The excitement of being the President has been replaced by the reality of the responsibility that the job carries, and the glory of the office is long gone. I imagine that it’s only after the inauguration when the first couple of security briefings are held that reality truly sets in, and the glow of the campaign gives way to the decisions that must be made in the shadows of worldwide unrest, political turmoil, and terrorist violence.

On the first Palm Sunday, as Jesus rode into Jerusalem, his followers were excited by the glow that accompanied the little parade. They were expecting big things from Jesus, big things indeed; and the crowd of onlookers were caught up in those expectations. You all know the story! (Luke 19:28-40) They welcomed Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of David; the great King who would restore their kingdom and bring peace and prosperity to all of God’s people. And Jesus didn’t disagree with those expectations. When the Pharisees told him to quiet his followers, Jesus responded, “If these were to keep quiet, the very stones would cry out!” Why not be caught up in expectations of glory? After all, Jesus’ followers had watched him do marvelous things, time and time again. They had seen him heal blind men with a touch, and lepers with just a word. They had heard him teach, and marveled at his wisdom. They had watched him feed crowds of hungry people with just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish. So naturally, they were anticipating the glory that they would share when Jesus was finally crowned king.

Most of Jesus’ disciples were content to wait until the day of his glory arrived. But not James and John! They took matters into their own hands. One day, they came to Jesus with their mother and asked if they might sit at his right and left hands. (Matthew 20:20-28) In other words, they wanted to be the Vice-President and the Secretary of State in Jesus’ administration. But instead of giving them an answer, Jesus asked them a question: “Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” In other words, could they handle the job? They replied, “Of course we can!” All the fame… all the fanfares that announced their arrival at state occasions… all the banquets and the parties… all the prestige that goes with being Jesus’ right- and left-hand men… You bet, they could handle that! But Jesus replied, “You don’t know what you are asking.” Jesus wasn’t talking about drinking a cup of glory, but a cup of suffering. James and John didn’t yet realize that as Jesus’ assistants, the glory of their job would pale beside its responsibility. Jesus wasn’t going to be an ordinary king. Jesus wouldn’t be crowned with gold, but with thorns. He wouldn’t be lifted up on an ivory throne, but on a wooden cross. He wouldn’t be rubbing elbows with diplomats and heads of state; he would be eating with outcasts and rejects. And the menu would be the bread of his body broken on their behalf and his blood poured out for everyone. Being in Jesus’ administration doesn’t mean glory; it means suffering and rejection.

So, were James and John able to handle that job? Yes, they were; and they eventually became leaders in a Christian community that did indeed endure suffering, persecution, and rejection. But more important than the historical question of whether James and John were able to drink the cup of suffering is the question of whether we can handle it! Can we get past the privilege of being a Christian to accept the suffering that comes with it? Jesus’ question has echoed through the ages, and every Christian has to decide the answer for himself or for herself.

                                                                                                                          

What is your answer? Are you able to drink the cup that Jesus drank? Will you embrace the suffering that he did? We have plenty of opportunities to do that, you know.

Do we resist hate and bigotry and violence, even when it is embraced by some of our political leaders? Do we stand in solidarity with victims of racism and sexism and homophobia? Can we drink that cup?

Are we speaking out of behalf of the Muslim community when all of them – even those who serve honorably in our military forces – are accused of being terrorists? Can we drink that cup?

Are we helping single mothers and orphaned children and disabled veterans to get the medical treatments that they need, even when some of the privileged members of our society condemn them for being lazy? Can we drink that cup?

Palm Sunday is a wonderful day! I hope that all of us – all Christians, everywhere – rejoice in the glory that surrounded Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem as king. But we must never forget that the road to the glory of an empty tomb leads through the cross. If we are able to drink the cup that Jesus drank, then at the end of our road, we will find glory indeed!