Isaiah 53:4-12
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:35-45
Psalm 91
When I was in eighth grade I was allowed to take Latin with the ninth graders. This was really exciting because it meant going from the modern junior high building into the venerable old senior high building with the big kids. And I could be in Latin Club too. That seemed a real honor.
What I didn't know about Latin Club was their method of raising money. Every year they had a Roman Slave Auction, where the students in the more advanced Latin classes could bid in an auction to buy first-year students as slaves for a week.
Latin students put a great deal of effort into planning what their slaves would be made to do. It helped some that it was only during school hours and monitored by the teachers. There were certain traditions, like all Latin slaves bowing to all slave owners each time you saw any of them; if you ran into your own master in the hall, you were supposed to kneel and praise them. A master could tell a slave what clothes to wear, to count the tiles on the ceiling of the gym, to polish a friend's shoes, to sing "Oh Susanna" repeatedly during the entire break between classes, or to scrub clean the civics teacher's waste basket with a tooth brush (old Miss Devaine was a smoker). Anything that there was not actually a school rule against was fair game, and the slave owners were sometimes very creative.
So there I was, the only Latin slave in my eighth-grade science class, wearing a purple skirt with a red plaid shirt and one penny loafer and one saddle shoe, with red lipstick and dark mascara on one side of my face and no makeup on the other, wearing a large button that said "I love Lon Chatfield." AND when my name was called at roll call, instead of saying "here" or "present," I had to recite, by memory, the Gettysburg Address.
That wasn't a cool thing to do in a good, southern school where everyone stood at attention while singing Dixie at every football game. But it was better than what I heard one of the ninth-grade slaves had to do ... he had to respond to roll call by singing "Love Me Tender," flapping his arms like wings and clucking it out like a chicken.
But it got way better the next year. Then many of my fellow ninth-graders were first-year Latin students, and I could be a slave owner. Then they'd have "to do whatever I asked of them."
Familiar words? That's what James and John wanted from Jesus: "Teacher, we want you to do whatever we ask of you." They want to be the master, the one who gives orders, the slave owner.
And, really, are we much different with what we ask of God? We bring the desires of our hearts before God in prayer, saying "God, I want you to do whatever I ask of you." "God, I want you to be my Latin slave. No, I don't need Miss Devaine's waste basket cleaned, but I want you to clean up my life. Maybe I don't need you to wear funny clothes or makeup, but I want you to act in the way I expect you to." "God," we pray, "we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you."
Funny thing is that Jesus tells us later in Mark's gospel that when we pray, if we do so with faith, we will indeed receive whatever we ask for. "So I tell you," Jesus says, "whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours" (Mark 11:24).
There aren't any conditions added. Jesus doesn't say only those good things you ask for, or only those reasonable things, or only those really important things. In fact this assurance about prayer follows a story (one that doesn't get read on Sunday mornings) where Jesus himself asks for and receives a seemingly unreasonable, unimportant, and maybe even bad thing: It's the story where Jesus curses a fig tree for not having any figs for him, when it wasn't even the season for figs. The cursing prayer works -- the poor tree withers to its roots. And that is when Jesus begins to talk about faith that can make mountains jump into the sea.
If this is true (that God really will give us whatever we ask for in faith), then, in some ways, it seems, God has freely made God's own self our slave. This is God who came into our world not to be served but to serve. This is God who is willing to "give us whatever we ask of God," even when, like James and John, we do not know what we are asking; and even when what we ask may not be in our best interests.
So in today's gospel reading we see Jesus, like a good slave, agreeing, at least as far as he is able, to what his friends have asked of him, even though Jesus may think it's a bad idea. And James and John get more than they bargained for. Tradition tells us they both died for their faith. They did, after all, share in Jesus "glory."
The answer to their request was not what they expected. They turned to Jesus and their world was turned upside down. Their teacher serves them just like a slave. Their teacher serves them like God.
God hears every prayer. God answers every prayer. And, more often than not, the answer turns our world upside down. We may even perceive the answer as a "No," or as terribly painful.
But when we ask for life ... do we remember that the Bible tells us that the way to life is through death? When we ask for healing ... do we remember that, even in many basic medical treatments, the path to healing is often painful? When we ask for faith ... do we remember the cross? We pray, and Jesus replies wearily, "You do not know what you are asking." And, yet good, wise, and loving servant that he is, Jesus gives us what we ask of him.
Today during worship we will have an opportunity to ask for healing. Those who desire it, may receive the laying on of hands for healing, when we ask God to show in our own lives the healing power of Jesus' love. And God will heal us. It doesn't necessarily mean that if you have a broken leg, or cancer, or the flu it will immediately go away. (Though such things have can and do happen.) It does mean that God will hear and answer. It does mean that your life will be healed: that is, brought into exactly that place were God means you to be today on your journey toward God. That may be a place of pain or a place of joy; but it is always a place of ‘shalom' – a place of God's peace.
Jesus never promised that life for his followers would be free of pain or trouble. He did promise that those who do follow and serve will have life with God forever. And God has promised to be with us always. The psalmist knows the joy of the promise of prayer, when he sings God's answer to us:
"[You] shall call upon me, and I will answer [you];
I am with [you] in trouble;
I will rescue [you] and bring you to honor.
With long life I will satisfy [you],
and show [you] my salvation" (Psalm 91:15-16). Amen.