Upper Path Valley Presbyterian Church

Matthew 20:20-23 February 6, 2008

Ash Wednesday
“Pass the Cup”
Rev. Meagan M. Boozer

There are several ways to think about the phrase I used to title this meditation, “Pass the Cup.” I could say to someone, “Please, pass the cup to me.” Someone could say to me, “Please pass the cup to me.” Or I could say to this someone over here, “Please pass the cup to her, and skip me, please.” You know how it is when you’re in a classroom or small group setting and everyone has a chance to say something. When it gets to be your turn, if you don’t have something to say, you can say, “Pass,” meaning, “go on by me. I’m not ready to participate.”
The mother of the sons of Zebedee asked Jesus if her boys could have places of honor in Jesus’ kingdom. Like all of his followers, she was thinking that Jesus had come to bring about a glorious earthly kingdom, you know, with a palace, servants, beautiful clothes, an abundance of exotic foods, good wine, and naturally, majestic thrones. “How about my boys get to sit there and there,” she gestured, “on either side of you in the coming kingdom?”
Jesus’ response was not what she was expecting (which is often the case with Jesus). In fact, it seems that Jesus didn’t respond to her at all. It seems he spoke directly to the disciples who were too unsure of themselves to ask this request of Jesus themselves. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he stated. He didn’t put his response in the form of a question like “Do you know what you’re asking?” He knew they had no clue.
“You do not know what you are
asking here. Are you able to drink the cup
I am about to drink?”
Without delay, and probably all excited that Jesus seemed to be considering their mother’s request on their behalf, they replied, “We are able.” If there would have been a cup right there, they would have extended their arms out with ready hands for Jesus to pass it to them; they would have held the cup and taken a drink without an honest awareness of what it meant to do so.
When we first become believers, or after we’ve experienced a mountaintop moment with Jesus, perhaps we are as eager as these disciples, too. But, the question is very important for us to consider on a day to day, week to week, month to month, and year to year basis. Are we able to drink the cup Jesus drank? Am I able to drink the cup of pain, sorrow, intense awareness of injustices, grief over sin, full submission to God’s will, and crucifixion of self for the sake of the salvation of others? Are we willing to drink the cup that is filled with all of that – trusting that complete joy is somehow mysteriously mixed in among it? Can we empty the cup to the dregs?
Here’s the deal though that I think is part of what Jesus is presenting to us in his question: You cannot drink the cup unless you hold the cup. Holding the cup, before you drink it, means you are willing to look honestly at the kind of life you are living. Some people, like the disciples, want to skip the holding part. They’ll receive it when it is passed to them, but they will immediately drink. Jesus wants us to stop and think about it. Can I drink this? Now, some would say, “Oh come on, let’s just live life. Thinking about everything just makes things more difficult.” Well guess what? Jesus started it. He said, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup I drink?” Jesus is the one who asks us to stop and think about what we’re doing, and the way we’re living.
Will you think with me tonight?
Will you put both your hands around the cup and ask of yourself a couple of questions beginning with this one:
What is in my cup?
What experiences that God has allowed you to have so far in your life, make up the sorrows and joys in your cup? What rejections have you endured? What disappointments? What grief? How are things right now compared to how you hoped things would be? What is in your cup?
What about the sorrows of the people in Kenya? The frustrations of the people along the Gulf Coast whose communities are still desolated? What about the sorrows of a family who are about to lose their home, their car, their medical insurance? What about the grief of moms and dads, spouses, and children, of soldiers who gave their lives in war or the deep pain of an adult child whose father doesn’t even remember their name because of Alzheimers? What about the unrelenting unanswered questions, regret, and sadness of a family when a loved ones gives in to suicide?
What is in our cup is deeply personal to us, but as human beings, made in the image of the same God – if we’re really drinking the same cup Jesus passes to us, in our cup are the sorrows of the world – for he died for all the world to be saved from sin and its consequences.
Jesus knew what was in his cup. He asked (Matthew 26:39), “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.” He didn’t feel that he could drink that cup filled to the brim with sorrows. But, in the end, because he trusted his Father and because of the bond of love they shared, he chose to hold onto the cup and pray, “Not my will, but yours be done.”
This is hard stuff. Can we hold these cups, knowing all that has gone into them, and drink?
See, here’s what I think is most difficult: When you hold the cup of your life, when you think over the whole of it, because the devil has such a foothold in most of our lives, the first order of things we think about when we look over our lives, no matter how short or long they have been is the mistakes we have made.
We think about the people who have hurt us.
We think about the people we have hurt.
We think about the disappointments,
the missed opportunities,
the failures,
the ways we have not cared about the sorrows of the world.
The devil wants us to despair over what is in our cups. He wants us to look at the troubles of the world and become immobilized by the enormity of it all. The devil wants us to focus on the contents of the things in our cups in a way that darkens our way, deflates our hopeful mission, and diminishes our faith. And in the midst of it all, Jesus asks, “Are you able to drink the cup?”
The correct answer to the question is “no.” “No, I am not able to drink the cup.” This is the honest answer. In 1 Corinthians 10:12 we read, “So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.” The right answer to the question, “Are you able to drink the cup,” is “no.”
Let me extend the question a bit to clarify what Jesus is asking (and God forgive me if this interpretation is not faithful to the text): “With the help of the Lord, through the power of the Holy Spirit, are you able to really look at your life and the world in which we live with all its ups and downs, and are you able to take this cup to your lips, drink it down, and let all that has come to pass in your life not condemn you and weigh you down, but change you and free you? Can you truly receive the whole story of your life so far as God’s will, because God allowed it, and can you then be the person God has been molding you to be, working all things together for good for those who love God and who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:38)? Will you drink and allow Jesus to increase and you to decrease? Can you handle the rejection of tomorrow, the loneliness, the hurtful words of another, to be part of the cup passed to you tonight? Are you able to drink the cup Jesus drank, knowing that he died with your life on his mind while your sin defiled his heart?
Since the 6th century, this day has been known as the 'Day of Ashes', because on this day, God’s faithful ones have their foreheads marked with ashes in the shape of a cross.
In the Old Testament ashes were found to have been used for two purposes: as a sign of humility and recognition of our mortality; and as a sign of sorrow and repentance for sin.
Putting a 'cross' mark on the forehead is an imitation of the spiritual mark or seal that is put on a Christian in baptism. In baptism, we promise (or our parents promise on our behalf) to reject sin and turn to faith in Christ. It is one moment in time that we must embrace over and over again in our lives. Over and over again we must choose to deny ourselves, to take up our cross, to embrace God’s will over our own, and follow Jesus.
I can think of no better way to begin our Lenten journey than to allow ourselves to be marked by these ashes that remind us of the frailty and uncertainty of human life, and to remind us that apart from Him – we cannot receive the cup, hold the cup, drink the cup, or pass it on to those who thirst. Amen.

Upper Path Valley Presbyterian Church

02-06-08