If you’ve been hanging around St. John’s very much at all, I hope you’re at least a little shocked by this. First of all, that they begin by saying to him, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you." What an ominous, discourteous beginning! Conversations that begin with, "I want you to do whatever I ask of you," almost never end well.

And then they, James and John, the brothers who have been hanging around Jesus for almost three years, say, "Grant us a place of honor when you come into your glory." If you’ve been hanging around St. John’s at all, I hope you’re shocked that these guys, who have been hanging around Jesus for three years, would make such a request.

But wait! There’s more! This request doesn’t just come out of the blue. Throughout his ministry, Jesus has had to deal with just-plain-wrong expectations of what the Messiah would be like. People want a Messiah who is glamorous and powerful and who will be all about taking care of them and their problems. They want a Messiah who is a good drug — take away the pain, make us feel really good, save us from the ugliness in life, and solve our problems.

But Jesus has been spending a lot of time and energy telling them that he is the kind of Messiah foreshadowed by the Suffering Servant passages we read from Isaiah this morning. That Messiah isn’t powerful and glorious and all about avoiding pain and ugliness; he is "stricken," "afflicted," "wounded," "crushed," "bruised," "oppressed," "slaughtered," "cut off," "crushed with pain."

And so, as Jesus and his disciples continue this ominous trip toward Jerusalem, he says to them, "When we get there, I’ll be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn me to death; then I’ll be handed over to the crowd and mocked and spat upon and whipped and, finally, killed. And after three days, I’ll rise again."

That is what he has just said to them.

And their response? It’s stunning! It’s staggering. It goes like this [sung to the tune of "It Had to Be You"]:

It’s all about me!

It’s all about me!

It’s all about me! Me, me, me, me!

Me, me, me, — me, me, me, me!

That’s their anthem: "It’s all about me." He tells them that God is experiencing the suffering of our existence in order to invite us into relationship. He’s saying that the Creator of the Universe knows the mysterious bond suffering brings and will be one of us in suffering and death as an invitation bought with pain for us to be in relationship with our Creator. And their response, the response that has made this so hard for God all along: "It’s all about me!"

I’ve just sung you the first part. Don’t worry, I’m not going to sing the rest of it, but I couldn’t if I wanted to because it goes on and on and on. The reason it is so long is that Christians have been adding verses for thousands of years. There are verses about us getting people to say they give their lives to Jesus so that we can win brownie points with God. There are verses about us doing good works so, you guessed it, we can win brownie points with God. There are verses about us giving money so that, yes, we can win brownie points with God, or so that we can get more money back. There are verses about condemning people and groups so we win brownie points with God. There are verses about how good it makes us feel to practice a cozy personal piety that focus entirely on God and tunes out the ugliness of the world. There are verses about getting our name on a building or plaque so that we feel immortal, and win brownie points with God.

And finally, there are verses, lots and lots of verses, about the two reasons why we want to win brownie points with God: (1) because we’re afraid — afraid of death, afraid of hell — or, (2) because we want the ultimate prize that we hope to get by turning in our brownie point coupons— the prize: getting into heaven.

It’s a very long anthem. And between each verse is the refrain: "It’s all about me."

Christians have been adding verses for a long time. We are adding them still. I’m quite sure I’ve contributed my share. But James and John get the song started with their stunning request of the man who has just told them that he will suffer and die: "When you get to heaven, can we be your favorites?"

How often we Christians do that. In the richest country in history that lacks not the resources to provide health care for everyone but simply lacks the political will, we say, "It’s all about me." Almost one in five of our children live in poverty, and how often our anthem is, "It’s all about me." In the United States, one in eight boys is sexually abused, a horrifying statistic, but one in four girls is sexually abused. At St. John’s, our vestry and Sunday school teachers are undergoing on-line training to prevent sexual abuse, but how often the response of so many Christians and churches has been, "That’s so ugly. I don’t want to look at that. ‘It’s all about me.’"

Internationally, one billion people, one billion children of God, live on less than a dollar a day. There are things we can do about this. The Millennium Development Goals, which the Episcopal Church has enthusiastically endorsed and about which I’ll teach a Sunday school class later this academic year, can make a real difference. But how often we say, "That’s so ugly; that’s so big. What’s in it for me? It’s all about me."

I could, of course, go on and on. There is no shortage of ways in which we are tempted to avert our eyes, to turn away, to turn others away, to add another verse — in ways personal, political, and religious, to sing the refrain: "It’s all about me."

And if we’re honest, we have to ask the question, "And why not?" Why not make it all about me? Isn’t a life spent avoiding pain, suffering, and the ugliness and sadness of the world better than one spent immersed in it?

That, I believe, is the threshold question Christians must ask. It is a watershed decision everyone has to make, and our natural tendency is almost always to make it about us. But we can also change. James and John changed. They, and the rest of the disciples, came to see the powerful paradox — that in suffering is redemption, that there is no real joy where there is no love, and in this world of tragedy and loss, there is no love without suffering. If you care for someone, be prepared to suffer. If you deeply love someone, be prepared to suffer deeply.

That could sound so depressing. It is not. Those who know real love know that it is only real when tested in the fire of caring for, and suffering for, someone else. And those who know real love know that the mysterious bond that suffering brings is the fabric of the most deep and meaningful existence imaginable. Is it hard? Yes. Disturbing? Sometimes. Ask people who volunteer at the Bargain Shop or at Family Life Ministries. It can be hard and disturbing. But is it depressing? No, it should not be. Caring for others, living outside ourselves, is the key to life as God calls us to live it, and human beings respond in a primal way to being in relationship as God calls us. Jesus speaks an inexplicable, paradoxical, truth of the universe: "Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be a slave of all." And was Jesus who showed us the way.

So, even though James and John got the "It’s all about me" anthem started, and even though we’ve been singing it and adding verses for two thousand years, we need to remember that they changed their tune. They spent the rest of their lives serving the Risen Christ and the children of God. Their anthem of praise became [again sung to the tune of "It Had to Be You"]:

It’s all about you.

And your children, too.

It’s all about you,

Here’s what I’ll do,

I’ll live my life for you.

Now, unlike the first anthem, this anthem has been long neglected. It is way too short. It needs new verses, verses only you can write.

So, you should be relieved to know that I’m going to stop singing. But I hope, and I pray, that you will not.

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA. If you would like to comment on this sermon or receive these sermons by email, contact me at rector@stjohnscollegepark.com.