James the Apostle, 25 July 2021 | The Very Reverend Dr Anthony Cane

When the feast day of James the Apostle falls on a Sunday, as today, a special door is opened in the famous pilgrimage destination of Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain, which contains his shrine. A new door is a hopeful piece of symbolism, perhaps especially appropriate for times such as these, when we yearn for life with fewer constraints and limitations, and even the singing of a single hymn inside the Cathedral feels like a step forward.

Given that this is also the opening Sunday of the Olympics, I might also mention that the original games in ancient Greece were inaugurated by a solemn pilgrimage procession to the grove and temple of Zeus at Olympia. This religious dimension was not incidental, but central. The beauty of the athlete’s bodies, and their skill, speed and strength, were seen as made possible by the gods, and as reflecting their nature.

The Christian faith, however, looks to saints rather than athletes to reflect something of the nature of God. Having said that, on the basis of today’s Gospel reading, there doesn’t seem to be a lot to say in praise of St James. Not only, apparently, do he and his brother John, the sons of Zebedee, want places of special privilege at Jesus’s left and right hand, but rather than ask themselves they get their mother to do it. Jesus’s response is characteristic: both merciful and penetrating. He addresses them – not their mother – to say they do not know what they are asking, and queries whether or not they can drink the cup he is about to drink. Their quick response, ‘we are able’, is further evidence that they speak out of ignorance – not only is their request misguided, but neither do they really understand Jesus’s question.

As so often when making sense of a biblical passage, it helps to see what comes immediately before and after. In this case, what comes before is the third occasion Jesus tells the twelve he will be flogged and crucified. This is the ‘cup’ he refers to in the Gospel reading we did hear, and of which James and John so quickly say they are prepared to drink. And as for after, we read of the healing of two blind men who shout out to Jesus for mercy.

Let’s stay with these blind men for a moment, who interrupt Jesus’ onward march by calling out to him (despite the efforts of the crowd to shut them up). Jesus stops, and asks them, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ To which they respond, ‘Lord, let our eyes be opened.’

This is perhaps what Jesus most wants to hear from a disciple – the wish to ‘see’. In the Gospels ‘seeing’ frequently has a double aspect, meaning both ‘sight’ and ‘insight’. Jesus wants his disciples to see who he really is, and display the kind of humility, riskiness and courage seen in the two blind men. They seem to have understood far more than the pairing with whom they are deliberately contrasted by the Gospel writer: James and John, brothers, apostles, who we might expect to know better. These blind men ask not for special status, but for mercy, and they know that sight (both physical and spiritual) is a gift of Jesus. No wonder Jesus is moved, and touches their eyes. Then, we read, ‘Immediately they regained their sight and followed him.’ They move from being onlookers to participants, following Jesus on a way that will shortly lead first to crucifixion – the cup of suffering that he will willingly drink – and then resurrection.

When James and his brother answer to Jesus that they can indeed drink this cup, Jesus makes no promise, offers no reward – instead he says, ‘whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’ James may not have fully understood at the time, but in the end he does indeed drink that cup of suffering. As we heard in our second reading, he did lose his life for the Gospel, being executed on the orders of Herod Agrippa, the first of the twelve apostles to be martyred

In the words of St Paul, who well knew of the Olympic spirit, to Timothy, James has ‘fought the good fight, he has finished the race, he has kept the faith.’ Plainly he learnt from the chastening experience in today’s Gospel, and learnt to see more clearly what discipleship was really all about.

Jesus’s question to the blind men is pertinent for all of us, as individuals and indeed as a cathedral community: ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Today, on the feast of James, with an extra door open in Santiago de Compostela, and the nations of the world competing at the Tokyo Olympics, and the onus is put on each of us to behave well in relation to the ongoing pandemic, this is a question worth much pondering and reflection. Like James, we too need not be bound by past misjudgements and mistakes. ‘What do you want me to do for you?’, Jesus enquires. By God's grace, may our answer be as spiritually fruitful for us, as the blind men’s response to Jesus was for them: ‘Lord, let our eyes be opened.’ AMEN