The Cup and Baptism

Text: Acts 11:27—12:5, Mark 10:35-45

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

            James, known to us as St. James the Elder because it was such a common name that there were two men named James among the Apostles and he was the older of the two, was an Apostle of importance. Yes, it could be argued that all twelve were important, but St. James the Elder ranks among those about whom we know the most because he features in the gospels more than most. He was one of the closest to Jesus, along with Peter and John, and sometimes Andrew. He and his brother John, the same John who wrote the gospel, even had a nickname together: the sons of thunder, because of their booming and powerful presence, speech, and, as we heard today, their requests. St. James the Elder was also the first of the Apostles to die, martyred by Herod. And yet, in our reading today from Acts, St. Luke only gives us two verses about this momentous event in the young Church’s history, the first martyrdom among the Apostles. When Luke writes about the death of St. Stephen a few chapters earlier, he gives us the full story, taking more than an entire chapter to tell the fullness of Stephen’s death by stoning, the conversations, and St. Stephen’s final testimony. But when it comes to St. James the Elder, we have no grand prelude, no last words, no great speeches or dramatic buildup. It’s simple, even jarring and cold: “About that time Herod the king laid violent hands on some who belonged to the church. He killed James the brother of John with the sword, and when he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also.”

            To understand why this stark and short description is given, we should consider the Gospel reading before us today. It’s an interesting conversation between James (and his brother John) and Jesus. “Teacher,” they ask, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” Not a great start to a conversation, particularly with the Lord of heaven and earth, but Jesus keeps the conversation going, without pledging Himself. “What do you want me to do for you?” He responds. “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” Our first impression of this is that it is bold, brash, and far too out of bounds to ask of Jesus. And indeed, it is. But there’s something here that we can sympathize with. They want to be with Jesus, their beloved Teacher and Lord. They don’t want to be left behind when He receives His kingdom. And their question shows that they really do believe He will receive a kingdom. They want to be with Him there. It’s a request that any of Jesus’ followers would make—including us. The indignation of the other ten Apostles shows this too. Why should James and John get something that any of them—any of us—might deserve.

            The truth is that we keep a secret ledger with the Lord. Sometimes it’s so secret that even we forget that we’re using it. We keep note of the good things that we do for the Lord, or for others—that’s the deposit we put into the account. Then there’s the withdrawals side, where we mark what the Lord has done for us. And whether we admit it or not, we expect it to be relatively balanced. We would never say it out loud. In fact, we might not even admit it to ourselves. But it’s always there, quietly running and keeping tabs on what would be fair for the Lord to do for us, particularly after we do good things and have some new deposits in the account.

            Or, if it’s not that way, it’s in the way that James and his brother John answer Jesus later. Answering their request, Jesus says, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” And they promptly and confidently answer, “We are able.” The cup Jesus is talking about is suffering. Through the writings of the prophets, we hear over and over about the cup of God’s wrath, demanding to be drunk, the full payment for wrongdoing. It’s the subject of some truly harrowing passages of Scripture. And yet St. James is sure he and John can handle it. “We are able.” He’s sincere. He’s willing to suffer for his Lord. He’s willing to suffer with Jesus, particularly if there’s reward for it. And there’s that secret ledger again. For we do the same. It’s another transaction: if I’m willing to go through this or that, if I’m willing to suffer for the kingdom, than surely there must be a special reward for me. Again, we would never say it out loud. We would even have a hard time confessing it to ourselves. But then again, how many of our trespasses do we have an easy time immediately spotting and confessing? Lord, forgive us for our hidden faults.

            But Jesus is not about having purely transactional interactions with His followers. He loves us too much to have our relationship be something as trite and shallow as quid pro quo or bartering and trading. He’s not interested in keeping a ledger at all. In fact, He’s throwing the ledger out. He does it with His next words to all twelve of the Apostles. “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Jesus did not come to see what He could get out the world, or to find out what His followers could give Him. He came simply to give, to serve, even to die as a ransom. He came to blot out the old ledger with His blood so that it can’t be read anymore, so that all that can be seen on its pages is Jesus’ blood covering everything, paying for everything. His sacrifice is of such immense weight that no sin can tip the scales when set against it, no mountain of trespasses or debts or faults can budge the scale or amend the ledger. He’s come to drink that cup of God’s wrath in the place of His people so that He will bear the full brunt of that divine and holy anger against sin, against all sins—and He will bear it. He will drink every last drop until He cries out “I thirst” from the cross, just before breathing His last until Easter morning.

            And yes, James will drink the same cup as Jesus, but now it’s been drained of God’s wrath. James will be baptized with the same baptism Jesus is baptized with—a baptism of fire and blood—but that baptism won’t consume James as a sacrifice because Jesus has already been that sacrifice. James will share in Jesus’ suffering, but not as currency to trade for rewards. Jesus is clear about that: “The cup that I drink you will drink, and the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized, but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.” The reward will be secured by Jesus, not by St. James or his brother, and Jesus will win it free of trade and transaction. “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” His life will not be bartered, not sold, but given as a ransom for those united to Him by cup and baptism.

            Thus St. James becomes a living picture of what that looks like. He is martyred, just as his Lord was. Luke tells it to us in Acts as a matter of fact. It’s as if St. Luke is telling us between the lines: Of course James would die in this way as a follower of Jesus; that’s what it means to be united to Him in a death like His in Baptism. That’s what it means to proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes again each time we take up the cup of His blood at the altar, where His sacrifice is received for the forgiveness of our sins and our life everlasting. Like St. James, you are being drawn into our Lord’s cross through your own crosses, not for any kind of exchange or trade or reward, but so that you, along with St. James and all those who share in our Lord’s cup and baptism, would also be drawn into our Lord’s resurrection and never-ending life. In the name of Jesus, who gives us more than we could ever request. Amen.