“Can you drink the cup?”

‘Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached him with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something. He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said in reply, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.” He replied, “My cup you will indeed drink, but to sit at my right and at my left, (this) is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.” Matthew 20:20-23

I just returned from retreat—my first ever work-related retreat. Our retreat master, a nurse by profession—who for the past thirteen years has been working for our archdiocese in a service capacity—is one of those dynamic people who radiates enthusiasm and joy. She chose the above Scripture passage for our theme.

Using the analogy of ‘the cup’ as representing our own life, or God’s Will for us, we were invited to examine holding, lifting and finally drinking the cup. In the first step, we had the opportunity to see how we accept and embrace the lives we are given—in all their idiosyncrasies, mystery, pain, wonder and totality. We were entertained by many stories, some happy, others bittersweet which served to remind that God fills our cups with many varied things.

The second step, lifting or tipping the cup, was the act of community. Last night we even had a little ceremony where we held, clinked and drank from matching stoneware chalices in a symbolic opportunity which showed us visually our connectedness to each other. The beauty and vitality in this transitional movement is that to reach the point of being able to ‘drink from the cup’ we must first recognize the other. Your cup is different than mine. It may look the same on the outside—or not—but it certainly contains different things on the inside. When our cups touch, I acknowledge you and you do the same for me. Such a simple, old-fashioned notion, but oh so desperately needed in the world today.

And finally, I drink of my cup. It is in this action I am joining Christ and accepting the Father’s Will in humble, trustful surrender. Some days it is easy to drink from my cup; other days it is not. But it remains mine and mine alone to drink to the very bottom.

I’ve been trying to take a retreat ever since I started this job. I’ve needed something like this for ages. So often I say, ‘I’m too busy right now. I can’t get away. I’ve got all this work to do.’

And it’s true ... I do have all this work to do. And even more things here at home that I need and want to do. That’s my cup: full-time job which is also a ministry; good marriage I want to keep strong; a busy family life and extended family close and spread all over the country; friends in town and out; a home to care for; and many activities I like to do.

It is a very full cup, but probably no more full than most other people today. Very gingerly I lift my cup to you. Tell me about your cup. Then we can tip our cups together and drink of Our Father's Will.