Three mothers and the will of God.

Early in the Bible we meet Rebecca, wife of Isaac and mother of the twins Esau and Jacob. Genesis 25:28 prepares the reader for the account of Rebecca's maneuvering by declaring that Isaac preferred Esau, but Rebecca referred Jacob. However, Rebecca leaves nothing to chance in her plan to secure from Isaac the blessing for Jacob, the second-born twin. She cooks the savory meal requested by Isaac, provides the skins to imitate Esau's hairiness, and just happens to have Esau's best suit in her closet.

Despite some suspenseful moments, the plan succeeds. The elderly, and perhaps dying, Isaac evokes the blessing of God upon Jacob, the younger son. Jacob, the least likely son, will carry forward the promise made to Abraham. Rebecca is a heroine - for, by her cunning, God's choice is realized.

Several books and 700 years later we, the readers, find ourselves at another deathbed scene - that of the highly revered King David. The text (2 Sam. 15-18) describes the intrigues and skulduggery perpetrated by two of David's sons, Adonijah and Solomon, in an effort to obtain the throne of their father. If such betrayal saddened David (and we know that it did) much more did it distress Bathsheba.

We know Bathsheba - she who captured David's eye and later became his wife and the mother of Solomon. The author prepares the reader for the result of Bathsheba's manipulations by declaring that "Yahweh loved Solomon and made this known through the prophet Nathan" (2 Sam. 12:24).

Bathsheba and the prophet Nathan execute an obviously convincing duet for the fading David in 1 Kings 1. Bathsheba says to David, "My lord and king, didn't you promise me Solomon would be the next king?" Nathan, joining the scene, queries, "My lord and king, is it your will that Adonijah be the next king? If so, why didn't you tell us your loyal followers?"

The plan succeeds, and David declares that Solomon should be king after him. This transference of the throne and the power it represents occurs that very day: "Zadok the priest took the horn of oil from the Tent and anointed Solomon" (I Kings 1:39).

But what of the sons born to David at Hebron and of those born to David in Jerusalem before Solomon? What of their claims to the throne? The answer lies in a theme we see frequently in the scriptures: the least likely person/group/city is God's choice. In the Bible, the fact that Solomon became king verifies that it is God's will for him to be king. That there were no previous signs of Solomon's suitability for the throne only highlights the free choice of Yahweh.

The stories of Rebecca and Bathsheba illustrate the advantage of having a clever and ambitious mother. Tales of success achieved by wit are popular in both testaments. For the Israelites who had little by way of power or position in the ancient world, cleverness (eve when self designated) was a claim to fame.

The achievements of Rebecca and Bathsheba, along with most of the Old Testament, would have been familiar to the church of Matthew. Although excommunicated from the synagogue, Matthew and his community saw themselves as the valid continuation of the Jewish tradition. Matthew's audience feels on familiar ground when they hear an episode begin: "Then the mother of Zebedee's sons came ... to make a request of Jesus. `Promise that these two sons of mine may sit one at your right hand and the other at your left in your kingdom'" (Matt. 20:21). We can almost hear the murmurs of the audience: "How clever of her." "Such lucky sons!"

But the familiarity is shaken when Jesus (Matt. 20:22-23) replies, "You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I'm going to drink?" Although Zebedee's sons reply that they can, the conclusion of this encounter leaves no doubt that the places in the kingdom of which Jesus spoke are not easily acquired. Even though these sons of Zebedee will drink the cup of suffering, their mother's request is not granted. The probably somewhat disappointed audience is reminded by Jesus that "these seats belong to those to whom they have been allotted by my Father."

By the implied contrast with the successes of Rebecca and Bathsheba, the kingdom of heaven is placed in a different category. To enter the kingdom is not so easy; there are no shortcuts.

The naivete of the mother of Zebedee's sons reminds me of an incident when I was a parochial-school first grader.

Daily religion class, bolstered by occasional classroom visits by our pastor, stirred my fervor. I was quite intrigued with the joys of heaven and felt - as deeply as a 6-year-old can feel - pity for the poor souls in purgatory. Somehow I got the idea that lighting a votive candle in church could release a soul from suffering.

So one Saturday morning, accompanied by a playmate and armed with ten pennies, I made my way to St. Alphonsus Church. Once there, I convinced my companion that God did not expect children to use an entire dime on one candle. Soon, with the clinking of each penny and the strike of the matches, the candles began to glow, and we envisioned ten souls, one by one, rising to heaven.

Spurred on by this vision, we continued to light row after row of little candles. Having lit all available vigil lights and giddy with fervor (or, perhaps, latent pyromania), we moved on to the side altars. Before we had reached the main altar, the inevitable occurred: the Ladies of the Altar Society arrived to prepare the sanctuary for Sunday services.

Things happened very quickly after that. The pastor was outraged, my first-grade teacher was exasperated, my mother was humiliated, and I was confined to the house and backyard for a month. But no one spoke to me of my poor theology. If a personal request to Jesus by a mother of two of the apostles could not assure seating in the kingdom, how much less likely was my lighting vigil candles to obtain such a mercy?

What is to be learned from the failure of the mother of Zebedee's sons? What does Matthew tell us about those who will inherit eternal life? For Matthew, more than the other evangelists, it matters what people do. To those who would be disciples, Matthew's Jesus warns: "Unless your righteousness goes deeper than that of the scribes and the Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:20).

The seats in the kingdom of heaven are not won by cunning; they are not given for the asking nor for the practice of religious devotions. They cannot be bought by the rich who could buy for themselves and their families choice seats just about anywhere. The places allotted by the Father are to those who are righteous. And who are the righteous? Based on the reading of scripture, including the two examples above, one can confidently answer, "the least likely."

Between the Resurrection of Jesus and his return at the Final Judgment, Matthew believed that the progress of the kingdom had much to do with the human response to Jesus. Matthew's gospel, therefore, provides the reader with a multifaceted description of those who will enter the kingdom. In words stronger than those used by the other synoptics, Matthew relates Jesus' use of children to illustrate the least likely: "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 18:3).

Matthew's Jesus delivers a soul-wrenching message to those who wish to inherit eternal life. Not only are they forbidden to imitate the Pharisees - who were decidedly Somebodies - but they are also commanded to change and become like children - who were definitely Nobodies.

Surely it is not unnatural for those who believe in the messiahship of Jesus to want for themselves the prestige, authority, and privileges that the Pharisees enjoyed. It is even less natural for the goal of the followers of Jesus to be like children - without power, wealth, or even personal rights. This kind of thinking is the spiritual equivalent of turning oneself inside out. Certainly, as the denial of the self demanded by Jesus became more clear, the response of the disciples, "Who then can be saved?" (Matt. 19:25), became more frequent.

A denial of self is more than the opposite of the self-sufficiency so dear to most of our hearts. The life of a disciple of Jesus is one of service and obedience to the call to a higher righteousness. It is the constant striving to be the least that will, paradoxically, result in one being the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, for a person who understands one's self as least relies wholly on God, in whom is our salvation.

For the mothers of Jacob and Solomon, their achievements were the consequences of a few actions during a limited space of time. And the mother of Zebedee's sons thought it would be the same for her. Many of us, most of the time, wish it were the same for us. But Matthew, and the church down through the ages, tells us it is not.