“We
hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be
of God and not from us….” That image of an “earthen vessel” with
its origins in the Genesis creation story where God creates us humans
from the clay of the earth, has always appealed to me. I think
it’s because, in my more honest moments, I relate to it quite
personally. And maybe you do, too. And that’s a good thing because Jesus
seems to have a special place in his heart for earthen vessels. Why else
would he have kept the company did? Why else would he have surrounded
himself with the apostles he did? Each one of those twelve,
beginning with Peter, and including our great patron, St. James, was an
earthen vessel.
The Church refers to St.
James, our patron, as “the greater.” That’s because there was another
James among the Twelve and, because the gospel writers give him a higher
profile, tradition settled on that as a way of distinguishing the two of
them. But we shouldn’t be misled by the title: being “the greater”
didn’t make James any greater than the others, and it certainly didn’t
make him any less an earthen vessel.
Today’s gospel story
gives ample evidence of that. Along with his brother John, James
approached Jesus to make a very bold, ambitious request. “See to it,”
they said, “that we sit, one at your right, the other at your left, when
you come in your glory.” We can be forgiven for wondering, ‘who
did they think they were, anyway?’ because that’s exactly how the other
ten reacted. They became “indignant,” Mark tells us. A strong
word, but not a surprising one.
Now, it’s worth noting
that when Matthew tells this story in his gospel, he tells it a little
differently. Matthew says that it was the mother of James and John
who made the request on behalf of her sons - forever providing a patron
for all good Jewish mothers. So who does get the blame – the sons or the
mother? We don’t know. There was probably enough to go around, and if,
indeed, it was the mother who made the request, I’m guessing it wasn’t
without at least the tacit approval of her sons.
Earthen vessels they
were, and Jesus knew it. Notice how gently he treats them - lest they
shatter as earthen vessels easily do. Instead of scolding the two, Jesus
uses the moment to teach a lesson to the twelve, challenging each of
them but putting no one of them down. Instead, he lets them know that he
is inviting them into something altogether new and unheard of.
‘You want to be great?’
he asks. Then let go of your grandiose dreams of thrones in glory and
become like me: become a servant not a sovereign. Forget yourselves and
serve others. Do as I do: lay down your lives for others; be like the
Son of Man has come, “not to be served but to serve, and to give his
life in ransom for the many.”
Years ago, when I first
came to St. James, I didn’t give much thought to the saint - only to the
parish and the Cathedral. St. James just happened to be its name. I look
at that differently now. That’s because in many ways, the story of the
saint is the story of the Cathedral, and the story of each of us. Being
a cathedral is kind of a glorious thing, I guess you could say, and this
is a pretty glorious place. But it’s not about glory, is it? It’s about
service, humble service. And that’s what you have made of this place: a
community of people whose first name is St. James and whose middle name
is service. Those gospel words over our altar have, in many ways,
become our parish motto. They say it all. They are Jesus’ own words, and
they became James’ words, and now they have become ours: “I am in your
midst as one who serves.”
If you know the story
and the great legends of St. James, you are familiar with the tradition
that he went as far as the Northwest corner of Spain to preach the
gospel, forever earning for himself the title, patron of pilgrims. But
as I see it, James actually made two great pilgrimages in his life and
the one to Spain to preach the gospel was minor when compared to the one
he made from thrones in glory to a life in the service of others.
Today, pilgrims from all
over the world make the trek to Santiago de Compostela to pray at the
tomb of St. James. A good number of you have done it and I know of one
parishioner who is doing it right now. But, realistically, it’s not a
pilgrimage most of us will be able to make, but there is such a thing as
a pilgrimage of the heart and this is the perfect year for that because
2021 is a Jubilee Year. That happens every time the feast of St. James
falls on a Sunday. Of course, the fact that this is a jubilee year
doesn’t make the feast any greater (any more than calling James ‘the
greater’ makes him any greater), but perhaps it can make us stand a
little taller, pray our prayers a little more fervently, and sing our
hymns and acclamations a little louder. And most of all, perhaps it can
challenge us to roll up our sleeves a little higher as we do what James
did: let go the dreams of glory and make the really long and arduous
pilgrimage from selfishness to the selfless service of others. It all
starts right here at the table of the Eucharist!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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