Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Mark

Mark 10, 32–45

³²Now they were on their way up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them. They were amazed and followed him with fear. Again Jesus took the Twelve aside and began to tell them what was going to happen to him: ³³«Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, who will condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles, ³⁴They will insult him, spit on him, flog him, and kill him, and three days later he will rise again.» ³⁵James and John, sons of Zebedee, approached him, saying, «Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you. ³⁶»What do you want me to do for you? he asked them.” ³⁷They said, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and the other at your left, in your glory."" ³⁸Jesus said to them, «You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup I am going to drink, or to be baptized with the baptism I am going to be baptized with?» ³⁹They answered, «We can.» And Jesus said to them, «The cup that I am going to drink, you will indeed drink, and you will be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized, ⁴⁰But to be seated at my right or my left, that is not for me to grant, except to those for whom it has been prepared.» ⁴¹Having heard this, the other ten became indignant against James and John. ⁴²Jesus called them together and said to them, «You know that those who are recognized as rulers of the nations lord it over them, and that the great ones exercise authority over them. ⁴³It should not be so among you, but whoever wants to become great among you must become your servant., ⁴⁴And whoever wants to be first among you must become a slave to all. ⁴⁵For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.»

At that time, the disciples were on their way up to Jerusalem. Jesus was walking ahead of them. They were terrified, and those who followed were also afraid. Taking the Twelve aside again, he began to tell them what was going to happen to him: «We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him, spit on him, flog him, and kill him. After three days he will rise again.» Then 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 said to them, «What do you want me to do for you?» They replied, «Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.» Jesus said to them, «You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup I am going to drink, or be baptized with the baptism I am going to receive?» They said to him, «We are able.» Jesus said to them, «The cup I am going to drink you will certainly drink, and with the baptism I am going to receive you will be baptized. But to sit at my right or left is not mine to grant, but it belongs to those for whom it has been prepared.» When the ten others heard about this, they became indignant with James and John. Jesus called them together and said, «You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.» “Whoever wants to be first among you must be the slave of all, for even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Descending to ascend: the road to Jerusalem as a school of service

When glory is revealed in the total gift of self — reading from Mark 10:32-45

We are on the road. The dust of Judea clings to our sandals, Jerusalem looms on the horizon, and Jesus walks ahead. This passage from Mark—dense, dramatic, almost brutal in its frankness—is one of the most decisive in the entire Gospel. It poses a question that transcends centuries and lands squarely in our daily lives: what is greatness? And what if it resembles nothing we imagine? This message speaks to anyone who has ever wanted to matter, to be recognized, to leave their mark—that is to say, to each and every one of us.

First, we will situate this scene within its narrative and theological context to understand why Mark places it here, at this pivotal moment. We will then analyze the internal structure of the text, its logic, and its dramatic tension. Next, we will explore the three major themes that emerge: the ascent as divine pedagogy, the reversal of glory, and service as participation in the Paschal Mystery. We will see how all of this is embodied in our daily lives before offering a path for meditation and a prayer to guide us through this text.

The third act of a tragedy foretold

To grasp the power of Mark 10:32-45, we must go back a few chapters and observe Mark's narrative structure. The evangelist is a master of dramatic tension. He does not recount the life of Jesus in a linear and tranquil manner; he builds, crescendo after crescendo, an inexorable ascent toward the cross.

From Mark 8:27—Peter's confession at Caesarea Philippi—the narrative is structured around three announcements of the Passion. Each follows an identical pattern: Jesus announces his impending death, the disciples react in a completely disjointed way, and Jesus corrects them by teaching about service. It is a repeated, almost insistent, pedagogy, as if Jesus knew that he would have to say it three times, in three different ways, for it to even begin to touch the minds of his followers.

The first announcement (Mark 8:31-33) provokes Peter's protest—"God forbid!"—and Jesus's sharp reply: "Get behind me, Satan." The second (Mark 9:30-37) precedes a dispute among the disciples about "which of them was the greatest." The third is the one we read today (Mark 10:32-45): it is the most detailed, the most precise in its description of the Passion, and it culminates in the most ambitious request of all—to sit at the right and left in glory.

This parallelism is not a literary accident. Mark constructs a deliberate, almost ironic contrast: the more Jesus speaks of his death, the more the disciples speak of glory. The more he descends into the humility of total self-giving, the more they ascend in their ambitions. It is the mechanics of human misunderstanding taken to their extreme.

The geographical context is also theological. One "goes up" to Jerusalem—the verb is systematic throughout Jewish tradition. The city is at an altitude of approximately 750 meters, but above all, it is the center of worship, the place of divine presence, the city of the Great King. Going up to Jerusalem is a religious act. For a Jewish pilgrim of the first century, it is going to meet God. Mark imbues this geographical detail with profound irony: one goes up to God, and it is the Son of God himself who will be put to death there.

The disciples' fear ("they were terrified," Mark 10:32) is not an anecdotal detail. Mark uses two distinct terms: ethambountô for the Twelve (astonishment, shock) and ephobounto For those who were following (fear). These two reactions signal that something extraordinary is happening, that the presence of Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem is imbued with a supernatural intensity. They don't yet understand, but their bodies perceive something.

It was in this atmosphere of silent walking and foreboding that Jesus took the Twelve aside — as if for a private lesson, a deliberate pedagogical act — and gave them the most detailed announcement of his Passion: delivery to the high priests, condemnation to death, handing over to the nations, mockery, spitting, scourging, death, and resurrection on the third day.

Everything has been said. Nothing is missing. And the disciples' response? A request for places of honor.

The mechanics of misunderstanding

The text of Mark 10:32-45 functions as a diptych. Two scenes echo and illuminate each other: on one side, the announcement of the Passion (vv. 32-34), on the other, the request of James and John followed by the teaching on service (vv. 35-45). Between them, a gaping chasm—the abyss that separates God's logic from human logic.

Jacques and Jean's request It is both touching and revealing. These two brothers, known as "Boanerges" (sons of thunder, Mark 3:17), possess energy, fervor, and ambition. They are not dull or unaspirational beings. They want something great. But they want it in their own way, according to their understanding of the Messiah's glory. For them, Jerusalem signifies triumph, the Davidic throne, and national restoration. They anticipate a political and religious victory, and they want to be at the forefront.

Their request is phrased with almost naive skill: «What we ask of you, we want you to do for us» (Mark 10:35). They engage Jesus before even telling him what they want—like a child who says, «Promise me first, and I’ll tell you later.» Jesus doesn’t fall into the trap. He responds with an open question: «What do you want me to do for you?» (Mark 10:36). Note this question—it will return in verse 51 with the blind man Bartimaeus, like an intentional echo. Jesus asks the same question of the blind man as he does of the ambitious disciples. One knows what he needs: sight. The others don’t yet know what they are truly asking for.

Jesus' answer He begins with a clear-eyed observation: «You do not know what you are asking» (Mark 10:38). This is not a condemnation, but a diagnosis. He does not accuse them of ill will, but of spiritual ignorance. The glory they dream of and the glory to which he calls them are two realities of incomparable nature.

He then introduces two fundamental images: the cut and the baptism

. The cup, in biblical tradition, is an image of the destiny God reserves for someone—whether it be one of blessing (Psalm 23:5) or of judgment and suffering (Isaiah 51:17; Jeremiah 25:15). Jesus will use this same image in Gethsemane: «Father, take this cup away from me» (Mark 14:36). Baptism— baptism — comes from baptism, To plunge, to immerse. To be "baptized with the baptism into which I am about to be plunged" means to be submerged by the same ordeal, drowned in the same death. Both metaphors say the same thing: the path to glory passes through death to oneself.

James and John reply, «We can.» There is a candor in this answer that commands respect. They don’t yet fully understand what they are agreeing to, but they don’t back down. And Jesus takes them at their word—«You will drink it,» he says—without lying to them about the reality of what awaits them, but also without dissuading them from following him.

The reaction of the other ten This is revealing: they are indignant. But their indignation is not virtuous. It is not outraged by their companions' lack of understanding or by the fact that someone dared to ask Jesus what he shouldn't have asked. No—they are indignant because James and John have cut in line. They would have liked to ask the same thing. Ambition is widespread. Jesus knows this, and that is why he calls the whole group together for the teaching that follows.

The final teaching

 (Mark 10:42-45) is one of the most important texts in the entire New Testament on the nature of Christian power. It begins with a description of worldly power—"those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them" (v. 42)—and it disqualifies it not as immoral, but as foreign to the logic of the Kingdom: "It shall not be so among you" (v. 43). Then comes the reversal: the great one is a servant, the first is a slave of all. And the foundation of it all: "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (v. 45).

This final verse is one of the few places in the Synoptic Gospels where Jesus interprets his own death. He gives it a meaning: lytron, ransom, redemption. This word refers to the practice of ransoming a slave or prisoner by paying a price. Jesus presents himself as the one who pays the price — his own life — to free «the multitude» (polloi in Greek, which translates the Hebrew term rabbim

 (from Isaiah 53:11-12, the Suffering Servant of Isaiah).

Walking Ahead: Jesus and the Pedagogy of the Way

There is an image that immediately stands out in the first verse, and which we risk reading too quickly: "Jesus walked before them" (Mark 10:32). This detail is not stylistic. It is theological.

In the Bible, walking before the people is an act of God himself. Yahweh walks before Israel in the desert in the form of a pillar of cloud and fire (Exodus 13:21). The shepherd walks before his flock (John 10:4). The one who walks in front opens the way, takes the risks first, and assumes the exposure. He does not force others to advance—he precedes them, and his presence at the front is itself an invitation.

Mark emphasizes the disciples' fear. They see Jesus walking alone before them, with a determination that surpasses their understanding, toward a city whose danger they are beginning to perceive. This fear is spiritually honest: when one begins to understand what Jesus is following truly means, one feels fear. Not a paralyzing fear, but a fear of the truth.

Jesus' journey to Jerusalem is a teaching in action before it is a teaching in words. He doesn't begin by saying, "You must die to yourself"—he walks toward his own death, and he lets the disciples watch him. Christian pedagogy is always first and foremost a pedagogy of lived witness. We learn to walk by watching someone walk before us.

There is also something important in the fact that Jesus "took the Twelve aside" (Mark 10:32) to speak to them privately. It is a gesture of intimacy within solemnity. Like a father who, before a serious ordeal, takes his children aside to speak frankly with them. Jesus is not distant, he is not cold or stoic. He is before them, and at the same time with them.

This dual stance—leading and working alongside—defines what a true leader is in the logic of the Gospel. He doesn't lead from the rear, sending others into the fray. He doesn't lead from a throne, delegating difficult tasks. He leads the way, he puts his own life on the line, he takes the blows before others. And it is this consistency between what he says and what he lives that makes his words on service not just a fine moral lesson, but a credible invitation.

For us today, the question posed by this image of Jesus walking ahead is this: who walks ahead in our communities, our families, our teams? The one who walks ahead, in the Gospel sense, is not the one who commands most forcefully, but the one who takes the greatest responsibility. It is the one who accepts the exposure, the uncertainty, the vulnerability of being at the forefront. Jesus shows us that true authority is not exercised from a position of security, but from the heart of the accepted danger.

The cup and the baptism: when glory changes its face

«Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?» (Mark 10:38). This question of Jesus is one of the most beautiful—and most demanding—in the entire Gospel. It contains a revelation about what glory truly is according to God.

The glory that James and John dream of is a glory of position: to sit on the right and on the left, to be visible, to be honored, to be at the center. It is a glory received from the outside, bestowed upon you by others, attributed to you by circumstances. It is the glory of this world. It is not bad in itself—being recognized, being useful, having influence, all of this can be good. But it is not the glory of the Kingdom.

The glory of the Kingdom, Jesus reveals it gradually throughout the journey to Jerusalem. It is associated not with position but with participation. To partake of the cup is to participate in the destiny of Jesus. And his destiny, he has just described with clinical precision: betrayal, condemnation, mockery, spitting, scourging, death.

There are two men who will sit «at the right and left» of Jesus in his glory. They appear in Mark 15:27: they are the two robbers crucified with him. This is no coincidence. Mark carefully constructs this irony: James and John demand the places of honor, and these places are occupied, at Jesus' coronation, by two men condemned to death. The cross is the throne. Glory resides there, in nakedness and utter surrender.

The baptism Jesus speaks of reinforces this. To be baptized with the baptism of Jesus is to be immersed in his death in order to emerge with him at the resurrection. Paul develops this theology masterfully in Romans 6:3-4: «All of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death.» Christian baptism is not a ceremony of social integration or a beautiful family celebration (even though it is also that). It is a symbolic and real death. It is consenting to be plunged into the death of Christ in order to participate in his resurrection.

What Jesus offers to James and John—and through them to all the disciples—is a transformation of desire. Not the suppression of the desire for greatness: Jesus doesn't say, "Stop wanting to be great." He says, "This is what true greatness is." He redirects desire toward its true object. He effects a conversion of perspective on glory itself. The Greek word doxa, In biblical tradition, glory refers to the manifestation of God's presence. True glory is not what men give you. It is what God places within you when you surrender to Him.

The slave of all: service as a Christian ontology

«Whoever wants to be first among you must be the slave of all» (Mark 10:44). The Greek word here is doulos — slave. Not servant in the general sense, but slave, one who belongs entirely to another, who has no will of his own in relation to the one he serves. It is a strong, almost violent term, which the ears of the first century heard without metaphor.

Marc is not satisfied with the word "servant" (diakonos, (v. 43) which refers to someone who serves at table, who performs practical tasks for others. It goes up a notch with doulos. There is a progression in the text: first great/servant (v. 43), then first/slave (v. 44). The higher one climbs in the Gospel hierarchy, the lower one descends in service. This is the absolute paradox.

But we must be careful not to turn this into an ideology of self-effacement or alienating servitude. Jesus does not glorify forced submission, imposed humiliation, or structural servitude—what the world imposes on millions of human beings against their will. The service he speaks of is a free choice, made by someone who could choose not to. It is precisely because Jesus is the Son of God—and because all authority belongs to him—that his service has incomparable value. He does not serve because he is compelled to. He serves because it is the highest expression of who he is.

This is what John so strikingly expresses in John 13:3-4: «Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was returning to God, rose from supper, laid aside his outer garments, and wrapped a towel around his waist.» The awareness of his absolute authority precedes even the humblest act of service. It is because he knows who he is that he can stoop down to the very feet of his own.

This logic is profoundly countercultural. In our world—and in the world of the first century—greatness is measured by the ability not to serve, to be served. Success is having people who work for you, who carry out your decisions, who spare you the degrading tasks. The higher you climb, the less you do. It's the pyramid of worldly power. Jesus overturns the pyramid. For him, the higher you climb, the more you serve. The greater you are, the more you are available to others.

This is not a devaluation of the person. It is a transformation of the definition of the fulfilled person. The fulfilled person, according to the Gospel, is not the one who has maximized their autonomy and freedom of action. It is the one who has maximized their availability to others. And the absolute model of this fulfilled person is Jesus himself—free from all constraints, Son of God, and yet «a servant of all.»

From the road to Jerusalem to our lives

This text is magnificently disturbing because it touches on very concrete dimensions of our daily existence.

In family and social life, The question is simple: who serves whom in the household? Daily service—preparing meals, listening to others, being available when tired, taking on tasks that don't naturally fall to us—is not a devalued chore in the logic of the Gospel. It is participation in the very mystery of Christ. Every act of service freely given out of love is a small embodiment of Mark 10:45.

In professional life, Jesus doesn't ask us to never aspire to responsibilities or influence. He asks us to change our relationship to these responsibilities. The question isn't "How can I rise?" but "What and whom will I serve with this position?" A manager, a team leader, or an association leader who understands Mark 10 doesn't ask "How can I consolidate my power?" but "How can I serve the people entrusted to me in the most just and generous way?"«

In ecclesial and community life, This text is a constant and demanding mirror. The Church needs structures, responsibilities, and authorities—that goes without saying. But these structures are constantly exposed to the temptations of James and John. Authority in the Church must always be measured against this yardstick: am I serving, or am I being served? Does my position lead me to expose myself more, or to protect myself more?

In the personal spiritual life, There is one application that is easily forgotten: the service of God himself. We can pray, study theology, dedicate ourselves to the liturgy or catechesis with the same ambitions as James and John—to be recognized, to matter, to have a role. Jesus invites us to serve God and others without keeping an eye on the reward of position. True prayer is that which does not seek the place of honor in divine glory, but which is willing to drink from the cup.

A long tradition of servants

This text from Mark is not an isolated island. It is part of a current that runs through all of Scripture and that the Christian tradition has never ceased to meditate on and explore in depth.

In the Old Testament, The figure of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah (Isaiah 52:13–53:12) is the inescapable backdrop of verse 45. The term polloi (multitude) of Marc corresponds directly to the rabbim Hebrews from Isaiah 53:11-12: «By his knowledge he will justify my righteous servant, and he will bear the iniquities of many.» Jesus explicitly identifies himself with this suffering Servant who does not resist, who is led like a lamb, and whose humiliation paradoxically becomes a source of life for all.

In the patristic tradition

, Origen sees in this text the very definition of agape—love that does not seek its own gain. Augustine, in The City of God, This contrasts the logic of the two cities: the earthly city governed by self-love to the point of contempt for God, and the city of God governed by love for God to the point of self-contempt. Mark 10:42-45 is like the charter of the city of God: «It shall not be so among you.»

Bernard of Clairvaux

, in his treatise From consideration, The letter, addressed to Pope Eugene III, directly reiterates this teaching to remind Peter's successor that ecclesiastical authority is service, not domination. His warning remains strikingly relevant: "You have been appointed not to dominate, but to serve."«

Francis of Assisi

 He experienced this with striking radicalism. His preferred title wasn't "founder" or "father"—it was servant and minister, Servant and minister. He long refused to be ordained a priest, believing that this position risked placing him above others. He wanted to be "everyone's little brother."«

In contemporary theology, Hans Urs von Balthasar developed a theology of the kenosis (cf. Phil 2:6-11) which profoundly illuminates Mark 10:45. Kenosis is this movement of the Son of God who "emptied himself, taking the form of a servant" (Phil 2:7). This is not an accident in the history of salvation. It is the revelation of what God is in himself: a God who gives himself, who empties himself to make room for the other, who does not hold onto his glory as his own possession.

The Second Vatican Council, in Lumen Gentium (n. 8) and Gaudium et Spes (n. 3), adopted this logic by defining the Church as "servant of humanity" — serva humanitatis — in the image of his Lord. This is not an empty phrase. It is a radical ecclesiological orientation that finds its source in this path to Jerusalem.

Lectio divina

Five-step meditation techniques

This text deserves to be experienced, not just analyzed. Here is a way to pray and meditate on it in a personal and concrete way.

First step — Getting started. Close your eyes and stand on that dusty path, behind Jesus. Feel the fear of the disciples. What in your life right now fills you with that same spiritual fear—a difficult decision, a situation that overwhelms you, a path you sense but don't want to admit?

Second step — Hear the announcement. Let Jesus tell you what awaits you, with this precision and this freedom. There is no evasion with him, no minimization. What do you find difficult to face in your own life? What cross is being foretold that you prefer not to hear?

Third step — Review your domestic application. What are you truly asking of Jesus right now? What is your secret "place of glory"—recognition, security, success, love, health? State it honestly, like James and John, without pious embellishment. Jesus welcomes the genuine request.

Fourth step — Hear the question of the cut. «Can you drink the cup?» What does this cup mean for you in concrete terms, in your life today? What is the cup that God is offering you—the trial to accept, the service to render, the sacrifice to make? Can you say yes, as James and John did, even without fully understanding?

Fifth step — Receiving the final teaching. Slowly reread verses 43-45. Mentally replace "among you" with your own name. "William, whoever wants to become great must be your servant." Let this word work its magic. Where are you being called to serve more freely, more generously, more unconditionally?

An impossible ideal?

It would be dishonest to present this teaching without addressing the legitimate objections it raises. This text has sometimes been misused, and these misinterpretations must be acknowledged in order to better understand its true meaning.

First challenge: service as an ideology of servitude. Centuries of misunderstood Christianity have used this text to keep entire groups—women, the poor, the colonized—in a state of servitude presented as an evangelical virtue. «Be content with your lot, Jesus said that the first would be the slave of all.» This interpretation is a betrayal of the text. As we have said, the service Jesus speaks of is a free choice, made by those who are free not to serve. It does not legitimize the oppression suffered. It calls on those who have power to use it to serve others—not to impose servitude on the powerless.

Second challenge: service and exhaustion. In our contemporary culture of burnout, compassion fatigue, and pathological self-effacement, how can we hear this call to service without seeing it as an injunction to self-destruction? The answer lies in the model itself: Jesus, who serves, also takes time for himself (Mark 1:35), experiences fatigue (Mark 4:38), and sometimes refuses to respond to requests. Gospel service is not self-annihilation. It includes self-care, awareness of one's limitations, and necessary rest. Serving from a place of emptiness is a false generosity.

Third challenge: grandeur and ambition. Must we truly have no ambition, no desire for influence, no leadership aspirations? The Gospel doesn't say that. It doesn't condemn the desire for greatness. It asks that this desire be redirected: "Whoever wants to become great must be your servant." Ambition is permitted. But its focus must change. To become great through service—that is a legitimate and even beautiful ambition. It transforms the energy of the desire for power into the energy of giving.

Fourth challenge: credibility in a competitive world. «What you describe is beautiful, but in the real world—in business, in politics, in organizations—those who serve are crushed by those who dominate.» It’s true that the Gospel’s logic isn’t a recipe for success according to the world’s standards. Jesus says it clearly: in the world, leaders rule as masters. He doesn’t claim that his model will be recognized and rewarded by the world. He says that it is true, that it is just, and that it finds its fulfillment in the resurrection—not necessarily in success as the world measures it.

Prayer on the road to Jerusalem

Lord Jesus, you walk before us.

We watch you move forward with that quiet determination that fills us with a mixture of fear and admiration. You know where you're going. You know what awaits you. And you don't look away.

We are often afraid of what you tell us. We hear your words—deliverance, condemnation, suffering, death—and we would like to change the subject, talk about something else, plan our future in glory without going through the cross. We are like James and John. We approach you with our requests dressed in beautiful words, but deep down we want the places of honor, to be recognized, to matter in the eyes of others and in our own.

Forgive us this deafness of the heart.

Teach us to hear your message without running away from it. Teach us to look squarely at what you look squarely at—the reality of our condition, the reality of your Passion, the reality of what it demands of us. You are not afraid of the truth. Give us some of that courage.

Lord, you ask us if we can drink the cup. We would like to say yes with the same candor as James and John, even if we don't yet fully grasp its meaning. Take this fragile, imperfect "yes" and work on it within us. We are not asking you to remove the cup—we are asking you for the strength to accept it when it is offered.

Show us what true service is. Not the ostentatious kind that seeks attention, expects recognition, and becomes discouraged if no one says thank you. The kind of service hidden in ordinary gestures—preparing a meal, listening when tired, quietly taking over the thankless task.

Show us what it means to be "a slave of all," not in servitude suffered, but in freedom given. The freedom you had, you who knew that everything belonged to you and who knelt before your disciples to wash their feet.

Grant us the wisdom not to confuse the glory you promise us with the glory we imagine. Grant us the eyes to see your places of honor where you have placed them: in service, in discretion, at the heart of the freely borne cross.

And when we enter our own Jerusalem — whatever it may be, health crisis, relationship breakdown, professional failure, bereavement — remind us that you entered it before us, that you walked ahead, that nothing we go through is foreign to your own human experience.

Son of man, who came not to be served but to serve, teach us to love as you loved. Teach us to descend so that we may truly ascend. And give us the hope of that resurrection you announce to us at the end of the road—three days later, he will rise again—a hope that makes everything else possible.

Amen.

Descending to ascend, giving to receive

Here we are at the end of this long journey with Jesus and his disciples on the road to Jerusalem. But "end" is not the right word—this text has no end, it has an opening.

Mark 10:32-45 is one of those Gospel passages that cannot be exhausted by a single reading, a single commentary, a single lifetime. It demands to be returned to, pondered, prayed over again and again, because it touches the very core of who we are—beings of desire, thirsting for greatness—and it reveals to us that this desire is just, but that its object needs to be transformed.

Jesus doesn't ask you to stop wanting to be great. He asks you to discover what greatness truly is. And he doesn't just tell you in words—he shows you by walking before you, by drinking his cup to the dregs, by rising again on the third day.

The logic of the Kingdom is this: one ascends only by descending, one receives only by giving, one truly lives only by dying to oneself. This is not a rhetorical paradox. It is the very structure of love—Trinitarian love that gives itself without holding back, incarnate love that walks before us to the cross, resurrected love that calls us to follow it on this path.

The road to Jerusalem is open. Jesus walks ahead.

To remember

• Reread Mark 10:32-45 each week for a month, noting what speaks to you differently with each reading and what the cup means to you at this time.
• Identify a specific situation in your life (family, professional, church) where you are called to serve rather than be served, and deliberately choose this action this week.
• Honestly examine your current ambitions: what "place of glory" are you secretly asking God for, and how could it be returned to service?
• Meditate on Isaiah 52:13 – 53:12 in parallel with this text from Mark to grasp the depth of the figure of the Suffering Servant in which Jesus consciously places himself.
• Read John 13:1-17 (the washing of the feet) as an enactment of the teaching of Mark 10:42-45, paying attention to the link between the awareness of his authority and the act of service.
• In your daily prayer, ask this simple question: "Lord, whom should I serve today, and how?"«
• Share this teaching with someone in your circle — in your family, your community, your sharing group — and let the question "among you, it should not be so" resonate in your shared life.

References

1. Mark 10:32-45 — Source text, Jerusalem Bible, Cerf, latest revised edition.
2. Isaiah 52:13–53:12 — The Fourth Servant Song, direct Old Testament background of v. 45.
3. Philippians 2:6-11 — The kenotic hymn, a fundamental Pauline parallel.
4. Origin, 
   

   Matthew
   Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew (synoptic parallel), Sources Chrétiennes, Cerf.
5. 

   Augustine of Hippo

   Church Father · 354 – 430
   Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, Books XIV-XV, trans. G. Combès, Augustinian Library.
6. Bernard of Clairvaux, From consideration, trans. P. Dallau, Complete Works, Cerf.
7. Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Heart of the World, French translation, Desclée de Brouwer, 1956 — on kenosis and divine service.
8. Second Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium n. 8 and Gaudium et Spes n. 3 — on the servant Church, Acts of the Council, Cerf.

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