If you are of a certain age, you might have watched Saturday Night Live in the late 1980s, and you might remember one of the characters created by Dana Carvey: Church Lady. Now, this Church Lady was not an attractive character. She wore an odd purple dress and cats-eye glasses (back when they weren’t in style). She had an odd way of moving too, a strange little dance. Church Lady was goofy and a little creepy. She set the bar quite low for all of us subsequent church ladies.

Her most famous line was delivered with a smirk: “Now isn’t that special?”

“Special” can be a tough word: for you to be special, somebody else—maybe me?—has to be un-special. And who wants to be un-special?

So we come to James and John in this Sunday’s gospel. It’s clear they are asking to be special to Jesus, even more special than they already are as apostles. They want to sit with him in his glory. Would we call them pushy? Maybe even a little sneaky? Glory suggests power and majesty. Do James and John want to sit on a throne with Jesus?

The other ten apostles are angry, even “indignant” - their dignity is offended!  It’s natural to identify with them: We are irritated at those two brothers for “cutting the line”.

Notably, Jesus doesn’t actually come right out and say “no” to them. We can’t be sure about his tone of voice when he says “You do not know what you are asking.” Was he scolding them? Teasing them? Maybe he was impatient: they just don’t get it! Maybe he was simply sad, knowing what he knew would come.  

As is his way, Jesus doesn’t give them a direct answer.

Truth be told, no one in this story (except Jesus) “gets it.” James and John think they are doing a good thing, but they don’t understand what they are asking for. And the apostles? Their resentment shows that they don’t get it either: If there’s power to be had, they want some too!

What’s more, we don’t get it. Like the Church Lady, we may think there’s something wrong with trying to be special, with stepping up and speaking up.

It’s tempting to linger with that resentment. Often in life, it’s so easy to nurse a grudge. But that feeling of bitterness, – I know in my heart that it doesn't come from God… God wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Regret, yes, sure … but resentment? Nope, not part of God’s plan for us.

I’ll say it again: resentment is not part of God’s plan.

Somehow, though, Jesus doesn’t run away from this steaming mess of awkwardness. He doesn’t reject anyone. Instead, his response actually redeems those mixed-up human feelings by suggesting a different approach.

Maybe the key to connecting with this passage lies in the word “glory.” The apostles think they know what it means, and so do we: kingdom and power, being struck with awe, even falling flat on our faces as glory blazes around us.  

But “glory” can mean something different. For example, Psalm 26, verse 8 offers an interesting twist. The psalmist writes,

   O Lord, I love the house in which you dwell,
    and the place where your glory abides.

Hmm… while glory in most of the Old Testament is grand, maybe scary, this psalm presents God’s glory as reassuring/comfortable, resting within a home:

      O Lord, I love the house in which you dwell,
      and the place where your glory abides.

To be with Jesus in this sort of glory calls to mind a different story: Martha’s sister Mary sitting and listening at the Lord’s feet. Could it be that James and John should be seeking what we call “the better part”?

Later, when the other apostles complain, Jesus summons them all and says,

      "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. . .”

Paying attention not just to the mighty but to the ordinary, this IS being in his glory. Caring leadership on behalf of God’s kingdom: isn’t this a “good” ambition?

Maybe what the apostles most need is not to be enthroned at Jesus’ right and left hand but to be sitting at his feet like Mary, soaking up his presence, resting in his radiance.

When my friend’s elderly father was dying, she described how her daughter would snuggle up beside him on the couch, “drinking him in” simply by being there.  At that moment her dying grandfather was very precious to her, and she was very special to him. And isn’t that special-ness what we all long for?  

Dana Carvey’s Church Lady got it wrong. It’s okay to want to be special. Jesus understands that. And we can recognize this need in each other too. Bitterness and resentment aren’t part of God’s dream for us. But stepping up, speaking up … I don’t think God has a problem with that.

In Jesus, glory can be so much more: serving, giving, caring. His glory is a radiance, a glow, a place to remain and abide.

We want to be close, not to push ahead of everyone else, but so that the warmth of his glory becomes our home . . .

There’s plenty of room. Sit wherever you like.