Intersections: Gather in as Children

World Communion Sunday

October 7, 2018

Mark 10:13-16

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81wKIr9aqxo )

Some of you are aware that when I was out a couple weeks ago, I was not just at, but in a wedding. Rather than officiating, I was a bridesmaid for my best friend from college. My husband and I chose not to bring our children with us to the wedding, but other families brought theirs. When the dance floor opened at the reception, some of those children got up to dance, too. While a couple only lasted a few songs, there was one child, maybe eight years old, dressed in a fancy pink dress complete with a tutu, who just never got tired of dancing. She was out there, doing her own thing, dancing by herself, and she was a joy to watch. She wasn’t self-conscious, she wasn’t afraid of messing up or stepping on someone’s foot. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone with her moves. She was just enjoying the music and enjoying dancing! Do you remember ever dancing like that? Footloose and fancy-free? Not worrying about who was watching, not really caring whether she was dancing with the beat or not. It’s hard for an adult to dance like a child. We are so much more mindful of judgment, criticism, skill level, and a host of other things that keep us from just letting go and dancing without self-awareness.

Our Gospel reading this morning about Jesus and the children is a familiar one to many of us. People brought their children to Jesus hoping he would bless them. The disciples prevented them. When Jesus saw this going on, he was indignant and said, “Don’t push these children away. Don’t ever get between them and me. Let the children to come to me. Don’t forbid them, because God’s kingdom belongs to people like these children. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. I assure you that whoever doesn’t welcome God’s kingdom like a child will never enter it.”[1] While we tend to tell children to grow up and act more like an adult, Jesus says for us adults to be more like children.

Besides dancing like nobody’s watching, what does it mean to be more like a child and why does Jesus say that? First, you have to keep in mind the context of first century Palestine and the Greco-Roman view of children at the time. Children in that culture were not the apple of your eye, they were not princesses and princes, they were not seen as sweet and innocent. Children 2,000 years ago in the Roman Empire were seen as “unbridled little bits of chaos.”[2] They were “terrible nuisances to be tolerated,”[3] they were grubby and dirty, adults did not bond with children. Know why? Because of the high child mortality rate. We do not have exact stats from 2,000 years ago, but as recently as 200 years ago, the global child mortality rate was 43%.[4] Conditions varied widely in the Roman Empire, and so while those in Rome lived better than many others of their time, Jesus lived on the outskirts of the empire. One website I found guessed the child mortality rate to be between 20-30%, depending on local conditions.[5] A mortality table in Wikipedia estimated the child mortality rate at 46 %.[6] Either way, the precariousness of the children’s lives made it easy to disregard them. Jesus, though, says to pay attention to them, that they are important in God’s kingdom, and are a model of citizenship in his kingdom.

Now, I don’t think being childish is what Jesus had in mind. Yet there are other characteristics of children that Jesus liked and valued and these have changed little over the centuries. Renowned theologian and bible commentator, William Barclay, compiled this list in 1954.[7] First, there is a child’s humility. Most children are embarrassed by prominence and publicity. There are a few who are exhibitionists, but most don’t want the spotlight on them. Second, that even though all children disobey at some point or another, their natural instinct is to obey. You ask a child to hold your hand to cross the street, or sometimes even just reach out your hand, and, until the child learns to suppress their instincts, will take it. Third, there is the trust of a child. They generally accept authority and have confidence in other people. They have not yet been disillusioned or disappointed. Fourth, Barclay pointed out that children have short memories. They do not hold grudges, unless they have been taught to, and do not hold onto bitterness. I would add one more to Barclay’s list, which is that most children are curious and interested in the world around them and look for connections in things. These are all qualities of children that come naturally, qualities that we all started with before the bumps and bruises of life took their toll.

Yet it’s these qualities that Jesus is looking for in us: humility, obedience, forgiveness, curiosity, trust. “Jesus is clear that children hold the keys to the kingdom. He repeatedly invites us to become more like children in order to receive the world as God intends.”[8] So, in order to rest in the healing wholeness of God, Jesus invites us not to become childish, but to become like a child, being willing to be gathered in, the way children come to Jesus and are “willing to be taken up in his arms, trusting him for blessing and not ill.” The question here is “what in our lives has damaged the trusting child [in each of] us that keeps us back, that keeps us scared and skeptical of the goodness of God?”[9] What are those bumps and bruises? Can you name them? The 18^th century English poet William Blake wrote a whole book of poetry called “Songs of Innocence and of Experience” describing this shift from childlike innocence and wonder and trust to the world of experience. Growing up is hard, and it can be hard to not let those bumps and bruises negatively affect who we grow up to be. Bitter. Cynical. Closed off. Not trusting. Skeptical. Scared. Arrogant. Some wounds don’t heal properly. Sometimes we don’t learn the appropriate lesson from an experience. One bad marriage doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be married at all; it means you shouldn’t have been married to that person. We tend to take that proverb, “once bitten, twice shy,” to mean don’t ever again put yourself in a position of vulnerability where you might be bitten again. What the adage really means is just to use extra caution the second time around.

Yet the truth is that we are so afraid. We’re afraid of failure, of rejection, of judgment, of criticism, of getting hurt. We want to be liked, we want to be accepted, just how we are, yet we’re so afraid that if folks really knew us, they wouldn’t want to hang out with us. And we are social creatures, we were created to be in relationship with each other. We crave companionship. And we crave to be seen as we really are. Uncool. Nerdy. Skinny. Fat. With weird hobbies and bizarre interests. With wounds that haven’t quite completely healed even though we have an iron-tight band-aid on it so you will never get a peek at what hurt us. If you knew, you might use it against me. We’re afraid to trust. We’re afraid to trust each other. We’re afraid to trust ourselves. We’re afraid to trust God. We’re afraid that our inner child is going to be hurt and disillusioned and disappointed all over again. We put up walls. We put on a mask. One psychology book I read said we often start experimenting with this around the middle school years.[10] We don’t want to be seen as vulnerable, and so we put up some protection so that others can’t see our weaknesses. Of course, then they can’t see us, either. And over time, we’re not even sure who the real me is anymore, either.

How do we overcome this deep-seated fear? Isaiah 41 is one of my favorite chapters in the bible. I’ve probably mentioned it before. Verses 8-10 read, “But you, Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, you descendants of Abraham my friend, I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you. I said, ‘You are my servant’; I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Great passage, right? Comforting, affirming, calms your fears. This past week, I read it in a different translation, the Jerusalem Bible, a Catholic bible which was published in 1966, just after Vatican II. Instead of “do not be dismayed, for I am your God,” this version says, “Stop being anxious and watchful, for I am your God.” In this age of anxiety, in which anxiety affects approximately one-third of adolescents and adults,[11] here is God saying, “Stop being anxious and watchful.” Not stop being observant, because there are lots of places where God tells us to pay attention. But stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stop waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Stop waiting for the next bad news cycle. Pay attention to what’s going on around you, especially the beauty of creation and the ways God is at work in your life. But you don’t need to be hyper-vigilant. You can pay attention like a child, observing and learning about the world around you, and then still sleep well in your bed at night. God is taking care of you. God is your God. Though Isaiah, God says, “I will give you strength, I will bring you help, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”[12] Two verses later, God says, “For I, Yahweh, your God, I am holding you by the right hand; I tell you, ‘Do not be afraid, I will help you.’”[13] Sounds like a parent holding the hand of a child, doesn’t it? I think that’s what we often forget as adults. That even when our parents and grandparents go home to Jesus and aren’t physically holding our hands, Jesus still is. And the next generation of children still are. This isn’t hand-holding as in you can’t do it by yourself or we don’t trust you or you need help. This is hand-holding that is comforting, reassuring, calming, reminding you that you are not alone, that you do not need to be afraid, that you can do this. This is the holding hands that says, “I love you. I believe in you. I see you. I’m here for you.” Just like holding a child’s hand.