When my two sons were young and we’d travel anywhere by car, they’d race to the driver’s side door calling “shotgun” at the top of their lungs. Honestly, I’m not really sure what the value of sitting in that front seat was. Because actually when they got a little older—and especially when their friends were in the car—nobody wanted to sit next to the parent in the driver’s seat. It was as if I’d become an invisible chauffer, absent from everyone’s consciousness, 
while the conversation happened in the back seat. Which worked for me because then I was able to listen in in on unedited adolescent stories. I learned a lot about what was going on in their world. Sometimes I’d even call the other parents who were shuttling my kids and their friends to school or practice to find out what they’d learned from the conversation in the back seat. I think of this as a kind of parenting version of reading the synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke. Same action, different narrators.
The Gospel story we just heard is one that actually appears in all three synoptic Gospels, and on first glance, it appears that the Zebedee brothers are competing for the seat of honor. One commentator called this story “James & John call shotgun.” Which is funny, but not entirely accurate in Matthew’s version, which is the one we heard today. In this case and only this case, it is mom who asking Jesus for favored seating for her sons. But Jesus responds to the brothers rather than to her, and the rest of the story continues virtually identically to the other synoptic versions. Its as if mom suddenly became invisible and the conversation shifted to the back seat.
So as one who has listened to a lot of back seat conversations, I’d offer a couple of observations about what happens next. First, notice that Jesus never marginalizes anyone for misunderstanding him. Which his Biblical disciples did all the time, as do we. Even after all that time together, the disciples still had no idea what sitting with Jesus or drinking his cup meant. But that’s OK, because asking Jesus for whatever we want—and then being willing to listen and learn and be course-corrected—is the way we grow in faith. Because of that, we don’t have to clean ourselves up—understand or be wise or ask for the right things—in relationship with God. We just need to tell the truth and be willing to hear the truth. Pray as you can, not as you can’t, the saying goes.
Back to mom’s odd appearance in today’s Gospel. I really love the nameless Mrs. Zebedee. Her request of Jesus may have been clueless, but wanting our children (or anyone we love) to be close to the Lord is always the right desire. I’m identifying with her in a rather personal way these days, as my younger son—who has been away from church for a few college years—has suddenly started to explore youth ministry as a vocation. I’m thrilled for him and I’m also scared, because I know that the cup of ministry is not always easy to drink. I also know how the rest of the Gospel goes, so I could tell him that riding shotgun with Jesus may not be the seat of honor that he has in mind, and that there’s certainly no power or money or much prestige in that position.
But even so, may he—and may we—risk asking for what we want. Because the one who stays close to Jesus will always learn, will never be alone, will see his glory, and indeed, as the Gospel promises, will do greater things than him.
