Proper 24, Year B

October 20, 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

 

Isaiah 53:4-12

Mark 10:35-45

 

A theme running through today’s Scripture readings is that of servanthood. The Old Testament reading comprises one of the Suffering Servant songs from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, believed to have been written during the Babylonian Captivity, when the Jews were living in exile from their homeland: “the righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous; and he shall bear their iniquities.”

 

The Gospel picks up and carries forward this same theme of the Suffering Servant. When the Apostles James and John ask to sit one at the Lord’s right hand and one at his left in his glory, he replies: “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”

 

The point not to miss here is that they most likely think that he’s referring to a celebratory cup of blessing, perhaps the victory toast at the messianic banquet, and a nice warm bath to luxuriate in beforehand.  So, they confidently assert, “We are able.” Little do they know that he’s referring instead to a cup of woe and a baptism of blood, namely suffering and death on the cross.

 

But then he makes clear to all the disciples that whoever would be great in their community of his disciples must be the servant of all—“for the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

 

A key to reading and interpreting the Bible accurately is the idea of “corporate personality.” Depending on the context, a person’s name can refer to a single individual or to an entire people associated with that individual. The Scriptures exhibit a definite fluidity in going back and forth using the same name for the individual, or for the collective, or both.

 

The most obvious example is “Israel,” which names both an individual, the son of Isaac and grandson of Abraham, and the entire people descended from his his twelve sons, the twelve tribes of Israel. We encounter something similar in the New Testament when Jesus says, “Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me,” or again, to Saul on the road to Damascus, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? … I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.” The point is that in persecuting the disciples, Saul is persecuting Christ himself in the members of his Body the Church.

 

This idea of corporate personality is critical to interpreting the Suffering Servant passages in Isaiah. For centuries, Judaism and Christianity have debated the identity of this mysterious figure who was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities, upon whom was the chastisement that made us whole, and with whose stripes we are healed. Rabbinic Judaism has traditionally understood the Suffering Servant as the personification of the entire nation and reads this passage and others like it as describing Israel’s vocation to suffer at the hands of Gentile persecutors, and so eventually bring about their repentance and conversion to the worship of the one true God.

 

By contrast, the Church has from the beginning read the Suffering Servant passages in Isaiah as pointing to and finding their fulfillment in the Passion and Death of Jesus Christ. But these two interpretations are in no way mutually exclusive. It’s not a question of either/or but of both/and. The Suffering Servant is both Israel in the Old Testament and Christ in the New Testament. And, by extension, the Suffering Servant is also the Church, the Body of Christ Body on earth, especially in places where Christians suffer horrific persecution to this day.

 

Whatever else the Christian life may or may not entail, we need to understand it as a life of service, after the pattern of Christ the Servant of God. As Christians, we’re all called to be servants, both individually and collectively. The Church is called to be a servant community; and by virtue of our baptism we’re each called individually to some form of Christian service.

 

Notice that in the passage from Isaiah, God speaks of “my servant.” Christ is primarily the Servant of his Father in heaven, and only secondarily the Servant of those to whom he’s sent. So it is with us. Much of the fashionable talk about “servant ministry” in today’s Church misses this crucial point. We’re God’s servants first. Secondarily and derivatively, we’re servants of our fellow human beings. Indeed, we serve our neighbors precisely because we see God’s image in them; and by serving the poorest of the poor we serve Christ himself.

 

Moreover, the service of God consists first of all in worship. That’s one reason we call our gatherings for worship “services.” The service of God consists, secondly, in attentiveness to God’s Word—for good servants are always keen to understand what their master desires of them. We develop this understanding by hearing, reading, and studying the Holy Scriptures, both here in Church and wherever else we have the opportunity. We further develop this understanding by prayer, both corporately in the liturgy, and individually in the privacy and quietness of those places where we can be still and alone with God.

 

And if we’re diligent in worship, prayer, and the study of Scripture—or even if we’re not—then sooner or later, we shall likely hear God calling us to some specific form of service in his Name. This can take dozens and dozens of different forms, depending on the unique needs around us and the gifts and talents that we’re able to offer. In many cases, it comes in the form of an invitation or request from someone such as a Rector or Senior Warden saying, “Hey, would you like to serve on this particular parish committee? PLEASE – we’re desperate!”

 

Whatever it is and however much we enjoy it, however, we need not be surprised to find that it costs us something or involves some sacrifice. That’s both the warning and the promise in today’s readings. If we want to follow the Lord and share in his glory, then we need to be prepared to suffer first. It will all be worthwhile in the end. The path to glory is the path of dying with Christ, every day, so that we may share in his Resurrection. The ultimate surprise and paradox of the Christian life is the unsurpassed joy of serving a crucified King—who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.