What do you want to be when you grow up? A police officer, an astronaut, a millionaire, a ballerina, a basketball player, a doctor, a singer? We have all been asked that question at some point along the journey of life. How did that work out for you? And we are reminded in the scene from St. Matthew’s gospel that we also had to deal with what our parents wanted for us when we grew up. The mother of James and John wanted them to have nice cushy corner offices where they could gather around the water cooler with Jesus and shoot the breeze. The one thing in common about these fantasies is that they all presume success. No one ever says, when I grow up I want to be middle management. When I grow up I want to be paid less than others. When I grow up I want to be stuck with no possibility of advancement. When I grow up I want to ask over and over, “Do you want fries with that?” No, both our own dreams and mother’s dreams for us always presume some kind of success, accomplishment, achievement.
Which makes the response Jesus made to Mrs. Zebedee when she was pushing for her sons success all the more striking: “Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?” Can you go through the suffering that I am going to endure? Can you deal with the sense of loss and abandonment that lies in front of me? Oh, sure, James and John answer. No problem. As the story unfolds it was a problem which led to their deserting and abandoning Jesus in his hour of need. Instead of success, Jesus holds out suffering. Instead of achievement, Jesus offers struggle. Instead of accomplishment, Jesus proposes rejection. That is what lies in the prospect if you say: when I grow up I want to be an apostle. That is the benefits package that Jesus extended to James and John. Success is measured not by getting a big promotion but in more opportunities to serve. Achievement is not being named “number one” but in giving one’s life for others.
As you can imagine, there wasn’t a line going around the block with eager applicants for the apostle job. James, our patron, was one of the chosen few who checked off the proper forms and went through the first century version of testing, interviewing, reference checks and health exams to get the hire. We admire James and all those ancestors of the faith who answered the call of Jesus. But here is the thing, church, James did not go through all that for our admiration. He went through it for our imitation. We aren’t supposed simply to say, that Saint James was a great guy. We’re supposed to say, how can I be like Saint James? Every Sunday we profess in our creed that we believe in “one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.” In confessing that we aren’t merely saying we are an apostolic church because of Peter, James, and John and all the other apostles back in the day. No, we believe in an apostolic church because we, you and I, are called to be apostles. We are to become like Saint James and bring the good news of Jesus into our hurting world. We are sent to continue the apostolic mission inherited from Jesus.
For most of us, hearing that we are called to be an apostle like Saint James seems like a case of mistaken identity. Are you sure you referred to the right resume? If you look at mine you’ll see that I don’t have the kind of education or experience that an apostle needs. I’m just an ordinary bloke. How can I be an apostle? I don’t know enough. I’m not holy enough. I even have my doubts about the whole way the God thing is playing out. You should probably look in another direction. When you hear the epistles of St. Paul you can imagine him saying the same thing. But he eventually comes to embrace his vocation as an apostle because he realized it is not about his qualifications but about what the grace of God can do in the likes of him. “We hold this treasure in earthen vessels that the surpassing power may be from God and not from us.” We join Saint James in living as apostles not because we’re certified but because we’re sanctified.
Okay. Let’s say we take the job. Let’s say we want to live as apostles. How are we supposed to do it? How can little old me in my home, in my neighborhood, at my school bring the good news of Jesus? Happily, this is easy. You just have to be yourself. When others see what Jesus can do with the likes of you and me the good news is spread. The only way to be an apostle is to be real. Which reminds me of a story about two toys, a Velveteen Rabbit and a Skin Horse: “What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit to the Skin Horse. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick‑out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” Jesus has loved us into being real. When we are willing to be ourselves with others, shabby joints and all, the reality of God’s grace will shine through. That is what Saint James did. That is what we all are called to do. That is what will change the world.
