A fellow Bishop, now retired, once told me a story that occurred at his priestly ordination many years ago. There was a parish reception for him following his first Mass as a priest. At the reception, a celebratory cake was to be presented for cutting. The newly ordained had asked that his priestly motto be iced onto the cake, and he was humbly honoured with the thought of having this motto displayed. But when the time for the cake cutting came, only half of the cake was brought out, with only half of his motto displayed. As he looked down on the cake, all he saw was “To serve…” The other half of the cake, languishing back in the kitchens had the rest of the motto on it, “…not to be served.” A true story, I assure you!

It was Jesus himself who gave the Sons of Zebedee, James and John, the nickname of ‘the Sons of Thunder.’ They were, after all, the brotherly disciples who had once asked Jesus to rain down fire upon a Samaritan village who had rejected their presence. These were not a couple of meek and mild siblings – they had a bit of a thunderous attitude about them. Perhaps unsurprisingly, then, the Zebedee boys also seem to have had a bit of a high opinion about themselves and their capabilities. So, in today’s Gospel, we hear of them sidling up to Jesus with an offer to be his ‘main men’ in the Kingdom of God. “Do us a favour,” they said to Jesus; “make us your top disciples, we’re up to it.”

Of course, James and John had got it all wrong about Jesus, and about God’s Kingdom. They sought power and authority, and the place of honour, as payment for their loyalty. They were putting forward their self-acknowledged skills and talents as the measure by which Jesus should receive their discipleship. What the Sons of Thunder were actually doing, however, was to corrupt true discipleship: they wanted to be served, and not have to serve.

Jesus chooses to pull them up in their hubris tracks by reminding them of the baptism by which they were to properly measure themselves. A baptism into his life, suffering and death would be the only path by which a true disciple of Jesus is recognisable. James and John – and us as well – are to give our lives as a ransom for the many, if we desire to sit alongside Jesus in his Kingdom of grace and mercy. In our weakness, yet by faith, as the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews notes, is our path into God’s Kingdom.

The baptism that Jesus offers to each of us is a baptism into his death, as St Paul told the Christian community in Rome. (Rom 6.3) “By baptism in his death we were buried with him, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead… we too should live in newness of life.” None of this is about possessing power or authority or status. Jesus did not form disciples to lord it over others, but to get down on their knees in service, to metaphorically wash the feet of others, as he himself did literally. The disposition of a baptised disciple is the disposition of a servant: attentive to the one to be served, humble in that service, and ready to do what needs to be done. A servant listens, not to themselves, but to the voice of the one who calls.

Pope Francis has called the Church throughout the world into a two-year path of listening to the voice of Jesus, spoken into the world and among his disciples. This call by Pope Francis is to a time of ‘walking together’ – which is translated in Latin as ‘synod.’ From today, our local Church in Melbourne will commence a journey of synodality that will arrive at Rome in 2023. This is a journey already somewhat familiar to us – locally, through the journey to build communities of missionary impulse in Take the Way of the Gospel; and nationally, in the process of the Plenary Council. With the global Synod process now commencing, Pope Francis is calling the Church, and all of her disciples, to make synodality – walking together in communion, participation and mission – the impulse of all who seek servant discipleship in the Lord. Christ is calling us – into his death, and so into life. How might we listen?

Feature image: The Calling of Saint James and Saint John by James Tissot