Jesus’ Stutter

It would seem quite reasonable by this stage in Mark’s Gospel, that Jesus’ disciples would be squirming uncomfortably in their seats and trying to avoid any further engagement with Jesus for the moment.

Pointed, abrupt conversations have consistently arrived at an awkward moment: that bloke who is casting out demons but isn’t in our small group; those children who are brought forward to Jesus and embraced by him, despite his disciples trying to run interference; the disciples more concerned with who is Jesus’s BFF than about what Jesus is telling them about the centrepiece of history. To their consternation, the rich bloke is at risk of losing everything worth having, while the blind bloke risks everything he has with Jesus and finds life.

However, Peter and his mates stumble on, oblivious.

Adding insult to ineptitude, James and John have missed Jesus’ third big clue to what being Messiah means and have aspirations to a brace of thrones when Jesus “enters his glory”. The others are irked, not because Zebedee’s boys are missing the point, but because they have beaten the others by calling “shotgun” on eternal positions.

As the cartoon suggests, Jesus might be asking every one of them, “Did I stutter?”

Why is it that many of us feel uncomfortable when Jesus insists on seeking to save the people we don’t like?
What is it about Jesus’ welcome that we feel the need to qualify it with our conditions?

At the crux of Mark’s Gospel is the crux of Jesus’ ministry; it is suffering and sacrifice which identify God in the world. Resurrection is God’s answer not just to death, but to suffering, injustice and the vast imbalance of power in our world. God’s apparent defeat on the cross is overwhelmed by God’s love, leading to life.

We are the children of Zebedee; we like the idea of God’s glory, but not the path which leads us there. We find ourselves in the welcome embrace of Jesus, then want to keep it exclusively for ourselves.

Is it because we have never fully opened ourselves to God’s delight, but imagined it only a modicum more inclusive than our own?

The infants and the in-valids are entering the kingdom ahead of us; shall we be in wonder that God is so generous, or annoyed that we are not at the front of the queue? Samaritan women, ex-lepers and Caesar’s centurions are standing by Jesus’ side for the photographs in eternity – are   we happy to be in the frame?

Whoever wants to be first must be servant of all.