Are You Able?
by Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB

Your name is James,
a brother to John;
a son of Zebedee
and a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth.
Like all the disciples
you suspect Jesus
 may find you a bit dense sometimes.
Perhaps,
you suspect,
that's because you have a hard time
shaking off the effects of your culture.
But hey,
it's only culture you know.
So like all the members of your culture
you spend a lot of time
trying to improve your personal status.

You and your brother John
think you have a pretty good plan this time.
After all,
simply asking Jesus a question
shouldn't be too difficult.
And if he gives you the right answer,
you two will have a great chance
to put that loudmouth Peter
in his proper place.

So the two of you get Jesus alone
to spring your question on him.
Being the slick operators you are
you try first
 to set up right conditions
for a proper response.
"Teacher,"
you say to Jesus,
" we want you to do for us
 whatever we ask of you."
For some reason
Jesus seems a bit suspicious.
He looks at you
with a strange smile on his face
as he replies,
"What is it
 you want me to do for you?"

Well
 you're on the spot now,
so you simply blurt our your request.
"Grant us to sit,
 one at your right hand
 and one at your left,
 in your glory." 

Out of the corner of your eye
you see the other disciples approaching.
You know they're not going to be too pleased
at your attempt at social climbing.
So you look attentively at Jesus
while you hope
 for a simple yes or no answer.

Of course you should've known better.
For Jesus gently shakes his head
and slowly gives you 
a strange reply.
"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?"

You're not really certain
you know what Jesus means.
But its too late to back down now.
And you and John reply,
"We are able."

Once again Jesus shakes his head.
Then he gestures at you,
and at all the other disciples,
as he replies,
"The cup that I drink
 you will drink;
 and with the baptism
 with which I am baptized,
 you will be baptized;
but to sit at my right hand
 or at my left
 is not mine to grant,
 but it is for those
 for whom it has been prepared."

Who are these lucky people
who have been prepared
to sit at the spot you desire so much.
That question burns into your mind
for days.
It's a question
 that stays with you.
And you vividly remember Jesus' reply to you
when you finally behold those lucky people.
They're two thieves.
And Jesus was raised
with one at his left hand
and one at his right,
on a very black Friday
upon a hill
called Golgotha.

Your name is Hans
and you're a citizen of Germany,
a country that's lately
taken on the additional title
of the Third Reich.
The changes overtaking your country
bother you.
In fact,
they bother you a lot.
 As you see goose stepping Nazis
marching through the streets
you feel a chill in your soul.
There's something about them
that conflicts with your deeply held 
Lutheran faith.
Something that tells you
God's voice
 does not join in the adulation
offered by the cheering crowds.

At least you're far away from Berlin.
You think here, 
near your county's
eastern border
you,
your wife,
and your children will be safe.
At least you pray that they'll be safe.
For after your faith in God,
your family is first in your heart.

Your illusion of safety's
shattered one day
as you walk in the forest
near your home.
You hear a noise ahead of you
 in the wood.
It sounds like the voices of men
and the grinding of heavy machinery.

Cautiously you move closer
until you see
 the men are soldiers.
They seem to just finished
 digging a long ditch.
And as you watch with increasing agitation
the soldiers lead a group
 of naked women and children
up to the ditch.
The men back away.
You hear
the sound of gunfire
as the people at the ditch
crumble and fall.

You stifle your tears,
and your nausea,
as you stumble toward home.
As you run through
your doorway
you stop only for a moment
to slam and lock it
 before you gather your family in your arms.
Here,
behind that door
you
and those dear to you
 will be safe.
And here you'll stay
until this horror goes away.

You and your wife sit up
talking late into the night.
Just as you were about to try
to get some sleep,
there's a sound at the door.
You hear a weak knock
and what might be a child sobbing.

Hesitantly
you open the door a crack,
and see on your door step
a very young girl.
She's naked,
drenched with blood
and obviously terrified.
You understand somehow she 
survived the massacre
and hid under the bodies
until the darkness.

All you want to do
is keep your family safe.
You know
 if you bring this girl
 into your house
the Nazis will find out.
And when they find out
you know it will be you
and your family
who stand by the ditch.

You're about to slam the door
when something pops into your mind.
You remember some words
 you've read again
and again
in your family Bible.
Words that didn't mean anything
 until now.

 "Are you able to drink the cup that I drink,
 or be baptized with the baptism
 that I am baptized with?"

You immediately know now
what the words mean.
For you remember
the cup in the upper room.
And you remember your pastor reminding you
your Baptism
is a Baptism into Christ's death.

You hesitate only for a moment.

Then you tenderly pick up the child
and carry her inside.

Your name is Susan.
You're a citizen
of the United States of America
in the year 2009.
You live in a time
when a lot of people
are hurting economically.
But you
have weathered the hard times
quite nicely.
For in contrast to many
your smart investments
have done very well indeed.
.
A few years ago
that wouldn't have been true.
Then you were like
 any other person
whom you'd meet 
on the street.
You wouldn't have known 
the difference
between a corporation's 
annual report
 and your children's 
report card.

But all that changed one day
when a friend told you 
about the money 
she was making
in the stock market.
She told you
how her once prosaic 
bank account
had tripled 
over the course of months
as she invested 
in the stock
of the corporations 
who were still prospering
despite the general economic down turn

Excitedly you called your bank.
Your face beamed
as you made arrangements
 to transfer
 all your free cash
to your friend's broker.
Then you simply sat back
and you watched 
your profits roll in.

Soon it seemed like
you'd made your way
onto the fabled
 "easy street."
The corporations 
in which you'd invested
doubled and tripled
 their profits.
You happily spent
 a small portion of your dividends
on your new house
and on the new Lexus 
parked in its driveway.

Yes everything was wonderful.
But some things often nagged
 at the back of your mind.
Things like 
reports of how these corporations
 gained profitability
 by closing down 
their facilities in the United States.
Things like
 the sight of the corporation's 
former workers
standing
 by the side of the road
with signs saying
"will work for food."

Those things 
continued to bother you.
But you turned your back
 on them
and embraced your new
 income and lifestyle.
That is,
you did,
until you ran 
into another friend.
You'd found her
when you'd driven 
past a homeless shelter.
You passed the same shelter
 several times a week.
Usually you went on by
while you looked down
 your nose
at the "do-gooders'
who wasted all their time 
with these human dregs.
But this time,
something made you stop
and look at the people 
who stood in line
while waiting for the shelter
 to open.
Your friend 
was among them.

Hurriedly 
you parked your car
and ran to meet her.
You embraced her 
and almost cried
when you saw 
the beaten look in her eyes.
Then you did cry
when she told you her story.
One of the corporations
 in which you'd invested
had decided 
that after thirty years
she was no longer a means 
to profitability.
She'd found 
she was too old
 to find another job.
Soon 
she'd lost everything
and had found herself 
on the street.

Sobbing
you went inside with her
when the doors 
of the shelter opened.
You watched the people 
who slept there
and you talked with those
who ran the shelter.
And you asked these people
why they came to help
those whom society had discarded.

They told you
they did what they did
because of their Baptisms.
They told you
they needed
 to renew their Baptismal promises
every day.
They said
they lived their lives
in response to Jesus' question
to the disciples
"Are you able 
to drink the cup that I drink,
 or be baptized
 with the baptism 
that I am baptized with?"
To them
to be baptized with the Baptism
that Jesus was baptized with
meant living a life
serving those
whom society loved the least.


You came bac
k 
to the shelter every day for weeks.
You worked 
with the people there
and you came to love 
as they loved.
You came to care a
s they cared.
You began to consider
the responsibility
of your own Baptism.

You're back 
at the shelter
 again today.
And you smile now
as you haven't smiled in years.
Your smile widens
as you open your check book
and write out a check
to the shelter.
A check taking everything you've gained
in the stock market,
and giving it to the care of the One
whose Baptism
you now live out.

You're name is your own.
You're a member
of Waltham Presbyterian Church.
And as true for all followers
of Jesus the Christ
you are faced
with Christ's call;
a call
 which asks you
if you will live out
 the full implications
of the promise of your Baptism.
These implications 
remind Christians
our faith 
isn't a faith of comfort
but a faith 
of struggle.

During this hour of worship
these implications
have probably 
led  Christians
who live somewhere 
in this world
to say,
"yes,
 I am able,"
in answer
 to Christ's question.
It's also statistically likely
their answer
 to the question
has led 
at least one of them
to martyrdom.

In this time
and in this country
it is unlikely
that we will be faced
with martyrdom. 
In fact
Christ's call 
may 
lead you
to a place of delight.

Or it may be a call
to turn around
a part of your life.
It could also
be a call
to a modern version
of the valley 
of the shadow of death.

"Are you able to drink the cup that I drink,
 or be baptized with the baptism
 that I am baptized with?"

To God alone be glory.
Amen.

(Comments to Frank at f.fisher.obl.osb@comcast.net.)