Baptism and Cup

Incorporating a little daily dying into our Christianity 

10/21/2018

Mark 10:35-45 James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to Jesus and said to him, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you." He replied, "What do you wish me to do for you?" They answered him, "Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left." Jesus said to them, "You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I drink or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?" They said to him, "We can." Jesus said to them, "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 or at my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared."  When the ten heard this, they became indignant at James and John. Jesus summoned them and said to them, "You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many."

May I share a revelation I have had recently with you? Next year I will turn fifty years old, and I am realizing that I will die someday. Shocker, I know. But now I can feel that reality in my heart, not just know it in my head. I even feel it in my bones, especially when I kneel and genuflect at Mass: my bones creak and complain! When I visit someone sick in the hospital it suddenly hits me that someday I will be lying in that hospital bed wearing one of those embarrassing gowns that is always wide open in the back. And the funny thing is: thinking more about death has made me more conscientious about life; I’m beginning to see a close connection between life and death. Archbishop Fulton Sheen once memorably said: the way we live should be a dress rehearsal for the way we will die. In other words, our life should be lived in service and sacrifice – with little daily deaths, all a kind of practice – until even our last breath is taken out of love for the Lord and others.

Let me give you a familiar example. In 1865 the American poet Walt Whitman wrote his most enduring poem about Abraham Lincoln called “O Captain, My Captain.” You may recall in 1865 the country had just weathered the Civil War and Lincoln had saved the union, but shortly thereafter was assassinated. The first stanza reads: “O Captain, my Captain! Our fearful trip is done; / The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won; / The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, / While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: / But O heart! Heart! Heart! / O the bleeding drops of red, / Where on the deck my Captain lies, / Fallen cold and dead.” Abraham Lincoln was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth on April 14, 1865. Lincoln’s life of service and sacrifice for his country had been a sort of dress rehearsal for his assassination. Practice makes perfect. As I turn fifty years old, I realize I need to start the dress rehearsal for my own death.

In the gospel of Mark, Jesus and two of his apostles engage in a curious conversation turning on life and death. James and John ambitiously ask for the favor of sitting on Jesus’ left and right in glory. But Jesus invites them, rather than dream about glory and fame, think seriously about sacrifice and shame of following him. Jesus offers them the images of a “baptism” and a “cup” that he himself will endure and drink, that is, the baptism of dying to self and the cup of suffering. Finally, Jesus concludes with his own example: “For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many.”

Jesus entire life, from his humble beginnings in Bethlehem to his crucifixion on the Cross, was a dress rehearsal for his death: a life of service and sacrifice that ended in deicide, the death of God. Jesus, like Lincoln, was the valiant Captain who shed his blood for others. And the apostles, like me, were slow to start thinking about the close connection between their life and their death. I would suggest to you that baptism (where we are buried with Christ) and the cup of Communion (of the Last Supper) are the sacramental equivalent of the dress rehearsal for death.

I realize this is been a rather heavy homily with all this talk about death, and not just at the end of life, but dying to ourselves a little every day. But I am convinced death is something we must practice every day. In other words, it is not just James and John who must be baptized like Jesus and drink from his cup, so must every Christian, that is, we must die a little every day. Here are a few examples. This weekend we are dedicating our new columbarium, and it will truly be a place of peace and serenity. Stop in and pray for those who are interred there, but also take a moment to mull over your own mortality. I like to tell people: no one is getting out of here alive. Another suggestion is to incorporate some sacrifice into your daily routine. I try not to put any cream or sugar in my coffee, I do not eat my entire dessert, I try not to complain about Fr. Stephen. These small sacrifices will help you prepare for the big sacrifice of death, the dress rehearsal for the final act of your life.

Another suggestion is to serve people in some sacrificial way. Saint Mother Teresa always said “give until it hurts” not just when it’s easy. A friend of mine is an usher in another parish. He told me: “Fr. John, my dream is that a crazed gunman comes into church one Sunday and starts to spray the people with bullets. As he turns the gun to aim at the priest, I jump in the way and take a bullet for the priest and save his life. I know I would go straight to heaven!” I replied, “All the people who had to die for your dream to come true might think otherwise.” My friend, who is a former Marine, grasped the close connection between life and death: the cup of Communion was both dress rehearsal and the final act, both supper and sacrifice.

And finally, pray for a happy death, in peace with God and with others. Revelation 14:13 says: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on…Let them rest from their labors for their works accompany them.” Practice praying to die in peace, and you will die perfectly.

In 1947 the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas wrote a poem for his dying father urging him to fight for his life. The first lines read: “Do not go gentle into that good night, / Old age should burn and rave at close of day; / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Sadly, Dylan Thomas had skipped the dress rehearsal for death, and therefore he did not know how to die well. He did not know how to finish the play.

Praised be Jesus Christ!