October 20, 2024

Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time Cycle B

Isaiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

There once was an abbey where, every 10 years, the monks were allowed to break their vow of silence to speak two words and only two words. To mark his tenth anniversary at the abbey, a monk went to the abbot’s office. He had thought about it for a long while and decided to say, “Food horrible.” Ten years later, on his twentieth anniversary, he said, “Bed hard.” A decade later, it’s the big day again on his thirtieth anniversary. He gives the abbot a long stare and says, “I quit.” The abbot signed and said: “I’m not surprised. You’ve been complaining ever since you got here.”

It seems to be the human condition to complain. Well, in our defense, God made us that way. A newborn only knows how to communicate bodily needs through complaints, leaving it to the rest of us to decide if that crying is want of food, need for a new diaper, an indication of illness, or just taking the new vocal cords out for a test drive. And even after learning to convey information in other ways, too many people seem to keep the complaint mode as their primary means of communication. But we all do it to some extent or other. We all want better than we currently have, and we all hate to suffer in any way.

Which brings us to James and John in today’s Gospel. Now there are three ways to think about what they are asking Jesus for. Are they asking Jesus that they be able to sit near him when they get to heaven? That has always been my interpretation. But we heard not too many weeks ago that the disciples are still not on the same page as Jesus and believe that Jesus is still going to be a Messiah in an earthly sense of military and political power. If so, maybe they want to sit in Jesus’ palace in Jerusalem when he seizes earthly power. So when they ask “Grant that in your glory,” was that glory earthly or heavenly? We don’t know, and Mark doesn’t specify.

But there is a third option: did James and John now truly understand what Jesus was about, understood that the real glory of Jesus was not in heaven or in a palace on earth but on a cross? In the passage just before the verses in the Gospel reading was the third and final prediction by Jesus of his impending horrific death in Jerusalem. Isn’t it ironic that the places on Christ’s left and right hand in that moment of glory are actually taken, not by James and John but by two criminals that were crucified with Jesus? Whether James and John were thinking this or not, it certainly was the meaning of Jesus asking them whether they could take the cup that he drinks or the baptism that he is baptized with. Those are clear references to the cross. Those are clear references to suffering. Jesus is pointing to his mission statement, given 500 years before he was born by the prophet Isaiah, part of which is in the first reading.

This has been on my mind recently after a discussion with several parishioners on the subject of redemptive suffering. The Suffering Servant of Isaiah gives “his life as an offering for sin” [Isaiah 53:10 NABRE]. This was a new concept to the people of Israel. Never before had they heard this. Animal sacrifices for atonement for sins were practiced, but suffering of a person was thought before Isaiah and other prophets of that same era to be punishment from God for sin, not a way to atone for it. But the great prophets said no, this was not the case. Riches and good health were not God’s reward for the righteousness any more than suffering was punishment. Suffering could indeed happen to good people. And of course Christians believe that Jesus is the example par excellence of a good man suffering at the hands of bad people. Indeed Jesus is the Suffering Servant that Isaiah prophesied about.

As I said, some parishioners and I were discussing this idea that someone could offer their suffering up for the redemption of a person, either themselves or other people. They asked: how does that work? Why does the suffering of one person work for the good of another? I had to admit to them that I didn’t know. So I have done some research on this question and now have the answer: because God made it that way.

Now, those of you that are still in school: do not attempt to use this answer, even if you go to a Catholic school. If you teacher asks you how a plant is able to turn sunlight, carbon dioxide, and water into oxygen and sugars to fuel its growth, the answer is not because God made it that way. The correct answer is photosynthesis. However, God made it that way is a perfectly good answer if you are talking about why the universe is like it is. God, being infinite, cannot be understood fully by beings that are finite, and we just don’t know why God acts in certain ways. As with other questions of faith, such as why God allows evil, scripture often gives us hints but never directly answers the question other than to say that God does not directly cause suffering or any other type of evil. However scripture does tell us that God will use suffering and evil that does happen to produce some good. Our Gospel today tells us this. Saint Paul claims that a thorn in his side causes him to do great things, telling the Corinthians, “I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong” [2 Corinthians 12:10b NABRE]. And one more example from the many in scripture: the thief on the cross next to Jesus, the one who is at Christ’s right hand in his true glory, is able to turn his suffering, along with a faith in Christ, into salvation [Luke 23:39-43].

Too many people have reported offering up their suffering in solidarity with the sufferings of Christ and seen benefits from it to both themselves and to others to say that it is not true. Many lives of the saints testify to this. To be sure, sometimes, as with prayer, it is hard to see the results. But we must have faith. It is important to remember what redemptive suffering is and what it is not. It does not result in forgiveness of sins: that is due to God’s grace and Christ’s suffering and not by our actions. But our own suffering can both help us to understand the sacrifice of Jesus better as well as the suffering of others around us, and it eases our suffering to know that it is not in vain, that it can have a purpose. To complain is human. To offer it up in unity with Christ is our imitation of the divine.

Today, Jesus tells James and John, and us too, that he is the Suffering Servant that the prophet Isaiah spoke of, that he came to reconcile us to God through his passion and death. He also invites James and John, and us too, to join him in drinking the cup, that bitter cup of suffering that turns into the chalice of salvation, to join him in a baptism of death that results in the Easter resurrection to new life. How this works – I still don’t know. All I know is that it does work. God made it that way.

As we continue with our Mass, let the Eucharistic memorial of Christ’s suffering bring us into communion with all those who suffer. May our own sufferings turn into something good for ourselves and for others. Let us offer up all that happens to us, both good and bad, to help bring about the Kingdom of God.