Yesterday, I went to The Roman to get my hair cut.  No, I don’t get my hair cut by a guy in a toga.  “The Roman” is the name of the styling salon I go to, and in truth, I get my hair cut by a vertically-challenged gal named Claudia.  Whenever I go in there, the conversation mysteriously turns to religion.  I’m beginning to think it’s because they all know I’m a pastor.

Yesterday, one of the stylists got on a soapbox.  He was in adamant agreement with his client.  The Church is all about controlling people.  Always has been, always will be.  The claim went something like this:  The Bible was just written by men with the central concern of dominating others. In order to do this, these men make the claim that it is the Word of God.  From this claim sprang  the religious institution we call Church in which a select group of holy people seeks to dominate massive amounts of devotees.

I tried as best I could to bite my tongue.  That didn’t’ go so well.  Still, what they were saying did lead me to wonder, “How did they arrive at this assessment?”  This stylist and the guy sitting in his chair have this perception for a reason.  Out of the long list of adjectives, they chose words like “controlling, and “dominating” instead of “serving,” or “saving” or “redeeming” or “life changing.”

Could the Church’s motives and message be so disordered that the only mission we communicate is one of control and dominance?

If we are so disordered, then it makes it a lot more difficult for us to take pot shots at the brothers Zebedee in today’s Gospel. 

Initially, I can’t believe the words coming out of their mouths.  Especially when you consider all twelve of them have just been told by Jesus, for the THIRD time, what’s about to happen to him.  And in the most detailed fashion yet.

Jesus says,  “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”

And THIS is the time James and John choose to cozy up to the Christ.  I want to say zip it.  I expect Jesus to say zip it.  Instead, he humors them and their words are coming out, and their coming out loud, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  As if Jesus is just another King Herod that can be manipulated.  It’s unbelievable.  It reminds me of the movie “Dumb and Dumber.”

You see? I just want to take pot shots at these guys…they’re such easy targets.  Still, my fear is that they aren’t alone.  Methinks they have a little company.  Probably the other 10 angry disciples.  And probably the Church in all its glory.  NOTE: I’m not saying “glory” here to be flattering.

“Glory” doesn’t have all that great of history in the church.  The church has had her Crusades and held her indulgences sales.  And today we see the church desperately competing for members in order to become the “biggest” and the “best.” Within this system of “glory” domination becomes a virtue, and  heavenly reward becomes the GOAL.

When it comes right down to it, I wonder whether the Church continues to make the same request, right along with the Zebedee boys, “Grant us to sit one at your right hand and one at our left in all your glory.”

Like James and John, there’s just something about our lot that yearns to be a big deal.  This is no new problem.  Humanity has been in pursuit of, as one theologian puts it, “piling up stuff, dominating nature, and reaching glorious heights of health and beauty and knowledge.”   This human enterprise stretches as far back as that solitary garden. 

‘Course, there is the chance that I’m being too hard on James and John – and the Church – for that matter.  I suppose one could make the case that James and John are just a bit nervous with all this handing over, condemnation, mocking, spitting, flogging and execution talk.  Fear could be what catapults them to cozy up to Jesus.  But Fear, as we know, has its problems too.  Fear doesn’t have a good history either.  Fear of terrorism has led to ridiculous decisions all in the name of security.  Fear over mainline church survival has lead to all kinds of efforts to secure ourselves rather than risking the way of the Cross.

The thing is, it’s precisely this Cross that holds the power to dislodge and transform James, John, and us from being big deals or fearful.  Herein lies the shocker, heck it sounds like pure folly.  The only road to glory, greatness, exultation, and eternal security leads through Jerusalem, up a hill called Golgotha…to a Cross.

When Jesus talks about drinking from a cup and being baptized he’s not getting all sacramental with James and John.  He’s speaking about his suffering and death.  They think they’re able to take a sip and dip…and sip and dip they shall not because of who they are, but because of who God is and what God, with Christ as their ransom, will do.  Turns out there’s only one way to blessing and greatness and it involves sharing in Christ’s passion.

When I was toiling over Jesus’ response to James and John this past week, the part when he says, “the cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized…” It sounded like a threat to me.  Something like, “Just you wait, you’ll get your cup…you’ll get your baptism.” 

But then it dawned on me, Jesus isn’t threatening them or us.  He’s making a grace-filled promise.  While Jesus wasn’t speaking of sacraments with the Zebedee boys, his connection of his passion to the cup and to baptism prefigures God’s means of grace for the Church. 

Being baptized into this faith involves entering into the way of the cross – a way we cannot and do not go on our own.  It’s God who passes us through those waters, and it is God who energizes a life that looks like Christ’s.  Same with sharing the cup at this table.  God invites the Church into the way and story of the crucified Jesus, and only by God’s nourishing is that way possible for us.

Through these essential liturgical practices of the church, God transforms our big deal enterprises and fear-driven quests for security into something new and completely alien – the alternative way of Jesus, the Cross, and self-sacrificing servitude.

True, at times in the Church’s life together, her messages, motives, and mission get muddled.  Turns out we’re comprised of humans after all.  But lest we forget, we have a high priest we can trust.  Despite our brokenness, we find our confidence to go, suffer, die and rise in the sure knowledge of a sympathetic intercessor sitting on the throne.

It is he who has served us, who has taken the form of a slave for us, who was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, upon him was the punishment that makes us whole.  By his bruises we have been healed.

A Church shaped by this suffering serving Lord is called to compassion rather than control, to discipleship rather than domination, to gracious service rather than self-serving glory. It is this one who transforms our community into one that serves, redeems, and changes lives. It is to this One to whom we cling and who will uphold us along our way.  We know him by name.  Our Risen Lord, Jesus Christ.