(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on April 7, 2019, Fifth Sunday of Lent)
Childhood Memories
Recently my brother and
sister-in-law had twins, Nathan and Matthew. Last Friday, my parents and I went over and enjoyed our
first extended visit with the boys.
It was an occasion marked with a little spit-up and a whole lot of love.
My mom had brought over my
brother’s baby pictures so that we could compare father and sons. My brother had this delightful smirk as
a toddler. It remains to be seen
if either of his sons will pick it up, but my money’s on Nathan.
As we flipped further through the
photo album, we stumbled upon an old clipping from the Times Dispatch from 1984. It was a photo of my brother and his
two neighborhood friends, Robbie and Heather, running a lemonade stand. The three of them struck a priceless
pose that only three little children could: my brother Curt smirking for the
camera, his friend Robbie rom drinking his own supply, and Heather captivated
by something else entirely, her eyes glazed over and looking off into the
distance.
Not in the Way—They Are the Way
Today’s scripture is the second
time in the gospel of Mark that Jesus welcomes little children. The first time, his disciples are
arguing about who among was the greatest.
In response, Jesus welcomes a little child and places it among them. Little children were at the bottom of
the social totem pole at that time.
Jesus is effectively overturning
his disciples’ understanding of greatness. Greatness is not in rising to the top, but in welcoming and
living with those whom the world places at the bottom.
Maybe word of Jesus’ warm
reception of children spread among the locals. For in today’s scripture, just one chapter later, people are
bringing their little children to Jesus in order that he might touch them. And the disciples, fresh from their
lesson of the previous chapter? They
haven’t learned one bit. They
rebuke the parents. Jesus is too
important for these little children.
Have these parents no sense of decency, no civility?
When Jesus learns of this,
however, it is the disciples who are rebuked: have they no understanding?
These little children are not disruptions. They are not getting in the way of his message. In fact, they are the way: “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a
little child will never enter it,” he says (10:15). Jesus does not welcome little children in order to tell them
to grow up and become world-wise adults like his disciples. He welcomes them to tell his disciples
that they must become like little children.
Adulthood…
It’s easy enough to hear what
Jesus is saying in today’s passage: little children are model citizens of the
kingdom of God. But it’s a little
more difficult to understand what
he’s saying. How are little children models for faith? Does Jesus really want us to become like little children—temper
tantrums and showboating for attention included? What about the passages elsewhere in the New Testament where
Paul talks about faith in terms of growing up, where he compares immature
Christians to “infants” and laments that they are not yet ready for solid food
(cf. 1 Cor 3:1-2)?
I wonder if Jesus and Paul are
not actually saying the same thing, but in different ways. When Paul tells the Christ-followers at
Corinth to grow up, he discusses their behavior: “For as long as there is
jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not…behaving according to human
inclinations?” (cf. 1 Cor 3:1-2).
For Paul, the way of the world—the desire to come out on top, to get
your own way, to win the approval of others—is comparable to the occasional
behavior that we see in children. But
in today’s scripture, Jesus points out that in fact this behavior is
characteristic of most adults! For
Jesus, if anyone is closer to the kingdom of God, it’s little children, not
adults. For Jesus, adulthood
actually amplifies the selfish and destructive behaviors that begin to bud in
childhood, even as it weans us off
faith.
I think back to my brother Curt
and his friends Robbie and Heather, presiding over their lemonade stand. Theoretically they are sitting on the
cusp of the adult world.
Theoretically they are learning what it means to be independent and
capable, to make money and to get your way, to keep up appearances and make a
good impression. But in reality,
they’re three little children having a good time. There’s Heather captivated by a squirrel or a daisy or God
knows what else, completely oblivious to the importance of showmanship and
keeping up appearances. There’s
Robbie draining his own profit with every cup of lemonade that he slurps
down. There’s Curt smirking, as
though he knows it’s all a charade, as though he knows they might not make a
cent off this but who cares, they are together and laughing—and if Jesus has
anything to say about it, they’re closer to the kingdom than we are.
…as the Antithesis of Faith?
Henri Nouwen, a Christ-follower
who spent the last ten years of his life living in community with persons with
intellectual disability, suggests that children are one of the ways that Jesus
invites us to become downwardly mobile.
Our culture marches in the other direction. At an early age, we are taught about the important of being
independent and capable, of making a living and securing our future, of winning
friends and influencing people. Or
in short: power, possessions, and prestige.
But as Nouwen points out, each of
these upwardly mobile traits actually deprives us of the life of faith. To be powerful, to be able to do it all
on our own, also means not recognizing our need, not trusting others. To chase after money and the means to
make our own way, also means not taking the risk of love, where we are left
vulnerable and exposed to the possibility that we might not get our way. To keep up appearances and worry about
what others think, also means not being faithful to a deeper call in our lives,
to our deepest joys and desires and responsibilities.
Little children may have the odd
temper tantrum or bout of showboating, but they are also exemplary of the life
of faith in their great trust and need, in their vulnerability and love, in
their simple faithfulness to the things that matter most, like friendship and
hope and the fresh possibilities of each new day.
Lingering Reflections
I wonder what all of this means
for us today. I wonder if it means that the church should treat its children with the same reverence that it treats the Lord’s Table. Are they
not also sacraments, glimpses of the kingdom, invitations into the
kingdom?
And I wonder what lessons we might
learn from our children as we confront our own uncertain futures, as
individuals, as a church (for all our
futures are uncertain). I wonder
if we gather around this Table the same way Curt, Robbie, and Heather gathered
around their lemonade stand, unconcerned about profit or appearance, and
instead genuinely grateful for the gifts we have and joyful for the opportunity
to share them.
I wonder what it means to be
downwardly mobile.
Prayer
Little Christ,
Whom we so want
To be big—
Invite us anew
Onto this strange path
That you walk:
A path packed
With the least and the lowly,
A path where we are incapable,
Do not always get our way,
Do not always make a good
impression:
A path of need and trust,
Love and vulnerability,
And faithfulness, whatever the
cost.
Amen.
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