Some people live their lives with a sense of dread.

 

On sunny days

they scan the horizon for storm clouds.

 

The ominous tone in today’s gospel

makes this passage their kind of passage:

 

 “Can you drink the cup of suffering of which I am to drink?”

 

Yet, this passage is not for worriers only,

it’s designed for a general audience,

including optimists.

 

Note with the positive outlook of the set-up:

like employees secure in their job status,

confident apostles float the notion of promotion.

 

What happens?

Jesus gives the ecclesial ladder a good shake.

 

It’s a pattern we’ve come to expect:

 

• Peter stuns his c0-workers with sharp insight:

“Lord, you are the Messiah!”

Moments later he’s put in his place:

“Get behind me, Satan, you are thinking in human terms,

not God’s.”

 

• The apostles marvel at the beauty of the Temple,

Jesus bluntly informs them that, in time,

“one stone will not be left atop another.”

 

• Peter, James and John witness the glory of the Lord atop Mt. Tabor.

Later, in the valley, Jesus discloses details of his approaching execution.

 

* * *

 

“Can you drink of the cup of suffering?”

 

Do the words make you wince?

 

They make me wince.

 

Why?

 

Because truth hurts.

 

As much as we resist the notion,

Jesus’ words are true:

the life of discipleship involves suffering.

 

It’s inevitable.

 

“Unless you shoulder the cross and walk in my footsteps,

you cannot be my disciple.”

 

“Sell what you have and give the proceeds to the poor.”

 

“The first shall be last, the last shall be first.”

 

The words give us pause, at least

until we put them into the context of love.

 

In the broader context of sacrificial love,

these words—hard as stone—turn into foundations of rock.

For, indeed, what is love without the courage and willingness

to accept the potential—and inevitable—experience of suffering?

 

• The parent at the bedside of a sick child.

• The soldier shielding a comrade in the heat of battle.

• The laborer with bills to pay and mouths to feed.

• Confrontation with authorities about matters of justice.

• Consolation within a family at the time of a death.

• Reconciliation between friends at a time of hurt.

 

Discipleship demands courage.

Why?

Because love without suffering

is love is without substance.

 

“Will you drink of this cup?” asks the Lord.

 

“Can you love me with all you got?

Might you love me without restraint?”

 

 

©2009 Fr. Jim Schmitmeyer