Letting the Children Come--June 8, 2018
"People were bringing little children to Jesus in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, 'Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.' And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them." [Mark 10:13-15]
Let's be honest about children, especially young ones. They ain't always sweetness and sugar, and they ain't always well-behave and innocent. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, little children are the most precious thing around, whether they are singing in the back of the car, dancing in the living room, sleeping soundly and peacefully, or wrapping arms around you in an embrace of giggles and love.
Sometimes. But not always.
There are also times when little children are self-centered and rude, or obnoxious and loud, or tired and whiny, or fussy and ornery. Sometimes they are crying from the back of the car, when they were unable or unwilling to fall asleep in their beds and you try a midnight car ride to help lull them back to quiet. Sometimes their faces scowl because they didn't get their way or don't want a bath. Sometimes the same mouths that say lovely and beautiful things, even just ten minutes before, can say mean and hurtful things.
Children are like that--sometimes pleasant, and sometimes precocious. They don't call 'em the "terrible twos" for nothing, and they don't always stop on the morning of a third birthday, either.
Jesus, however, doesn't seem to distinguish. Whatever it is about children that he is lifting up and when he says that it is "to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs," he isn't only focusing on the days (or minutes of a day) when they are being well-behaved. So let us put to rest any notions that "receiving the kingdom as a little child" is about cuteness, pleasantness, innocence, or good behavior. Jesus does not say, "Let the well-behaved children come to me," nor does he indicate that the children are welcomed because they have earned it, or have a "right" to it, or have got Jesus wrapped around their little fingers by their cuteness. Jesus is neither sentimental nor schmaltzy, and so there is none of the old romanticized notion that children are pure and innocent, and therefore we must be as cute and adorable as children to get ourselves a spot in heaven.
No, sweetness and smiles are not universal or permanent traits of children. But you know what is? Need. Empty-handedness. Naked, unashamed, unpretentious, undeceiving neediness, and the honest ability to admit the need. Children see the world not in terms of earning and buying, but in terms of "I need it, therefore I ask for it, and it will be given to me." And in a very real sense, that is the beating heart of faith--the trust that when we call out, "Abba!" the One on whom we call will answer, simply because we have called, not because we have earned.
So let's be clear here, both about Jesus and the children with whom he surrounds himself. Jesus doesn't see this scene as a matter of who has "earned" access to get to him. We are usually so quick to frame the world in terms of limited eligibility, earning, and buying, that we might think it is unfair that Jesus lets these little children cut in line to come up to see him. We might want to protest, "Why is he giving special treatment to those children, when there are surely lots of other people in line waiting to get in to see Jesus?" We might be upset because so many other things in life are matters of earning access or buying admittance. And Jesus just doesn't do things that way.
All these children bring is their own empty hands. And yet, Jesus says, that is precisely all it takes to be with him. In fact, nobody in Jesus' circles is there because they have "earned" it. This is perhaps the great divine comedy and hilarious irony of grace: Jesus keeps saying, "Come with nothing in your hands!" and we keep insisting on filling our hands with our permanent records, our money, our influence, and the like, while we hold others back in line, telling them they don't have enough in their hands to win a spot with Jesus. When Jesus welcomes children into his presence, it is to say, "None of that matters, and it never did."
That is because belonging to Jesus does not depend on what we bring to the table. Children are welcomed, not because they are more innocent or virtuous than grown-ups, but because they are anybody... and at least young children are not trying to convince anyone else that they are "somebody important." Little children can be just as ornery, selfish, or mean as grown-ups can. They just haven't been taught to hide it or dress it up like grown-ups have.
This was an even more radical claim to make in the world of the gospels, where children were basically regarded as non-persons. Romans not only permitted infanticide (it was the Christian community that largely spoke out against the practice), but even young children beyond infancy were often considered negligible because they didn't contribute worth or wealth to the household. So when Jesus in stark contrast welcomes young children, it's clear that it's not because the whole culture at large thought that children were particularly innocent or sweet--it is independent of any consideration of what children "do" or "earn" or "bring to the table." They are just welcome, just as they are, because they need to be welcomed.
It really is as simple as that. Jesus welcomed children in all their neediness, because that is how children come--needy--and they need to be welcomed. And that is how Jesus welcomes people today: in all of our neediness, without regard to what we will "contribute" or how we will "pay him back," or what "marketable skills" we offer. Jesus has not drawn us into his arms because we have something he needs. He has pulled us into an embrace because we need to be held.
That is good news for us who are tired of pretending we are all-stars with a lot to offer; it means that our belonging never hinged on an audition or the third-quarter sales report. But it also means that Jesus is teaching us a whole new way of thinking and seeing the world, too. Jesus' community does not operate on the basis of letting people in based on what they can do usefully, what skills they bring, or what resources they can bargain with. Jesus' kind of community welcomes us simply because we have come to him--or, in the case of these children, simply because someone else has brought us along to him. The more we listen to Jesus, then, the more we will find him pulling at the old thread of "earning," even if it makes our whole old way of thinking unravel.
Maybe then we will be less inclined to get in between anybody--anybody--and the presence of Jesus.
Lord Jesus, here we are with all our neediness. Thank you for drawing us in as we are.
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