Jesus Loves the Little Children
Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
October 18, 2009 Children’s Sabbath
Luke 18:15-17
Over thirty years ago, maybe when I was preparing for another baptism, I came across these words from the poet, Michel Quoist. I share them with you because they speak to me still, and, I think, they speak directly to our text.
God says: I like youngsters. I want people to be like them.
I want only children in my Kingdom; this has been decreed from the beginning of time.
Youngsters – twisted, humped, wrinkled, white-bearded – all kinds of youngsters, but youngsters.
There is no changing it; it has been decided. There is room for no one else.
I like little children because my image has not yet been dulled in them.
So, when I gently lean over them, I recognize myself in them.
I like them because they are still growing, still improving.
They are on the road, they are on their way.
But with grown-ups there is nothing to expect any more.
They will no longer grow, no longer improve.
They have come to a full stop.
It is disastrous…grown-ups thinking they have arrived.
Hurry, now is the time. I am ready to give you again the beautiful face of a child, the beautiful eyes of a child.
It is I, your God, coming to bring back to life the child in you.
For I love youngsters, and I want everyone to be like them.
“Let the children come to me, and 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.” Now we know these words. We hear them every time we have a baptism in this church. We know these words. But what do you suppose they mean?
On Monday, our grandson was here, Ben, age 2. I took him to Tom and Pat Dilley’s house, because Tom has some big pumpkins. Tom had a pumpkin that he’d actually grown Ben’s name into. So we had to get that pumpkin. We got there and Ben could see all the pumpkins. Tom had his little tractor there and asked if Ben would like to ride out in the field, on the tractor, to get the pumpkin. Ben hesitated for about 2 seconds and said, “Yes.” It wasn’t very far, maybe fifteen yards, but Tom took him out to the pumpkins on the tractor. When we got there, we got off and were looking for the pumpkins. And then he found it. The pumpkin with ‘BEN’ on it. He was so excited. So we picked the pumpkin, put it on the little lift on Tom’s tractor, then he got back on Tom’s lap, drove back to the car, put the pumpkin in the car and took it home to grandma. So for the rest of the afternoon, about every 20 minutes, “Grandma, come see my pumpkin,” and she’s standing 5 feet away from it. And with the pumpkin he’s telling the story of the whole tractor ride. The next day Bethany called and it was the same thing at their house. He was so excited, so thrilled with this pumpkin and he just had to share that excitement with everybody not once, but 25 times. Unconditional wonder and delight. So eager to share his excitement. And that’s how it is with children, isn’t it? So much is fresh and new. And they explore this fresh new world unselfconsciously, with honest, enthusiasm and with great intensity. This year for our entire family, every jack-o-lantern, every ghost in the window, every witch or black cat is a new adventure to be wondered at and savored. “God says: I like youngsters, I want people to be like them!!
Could this be what Jesus is talking about in this text? Could he be calling us often uptight adults to maybe let go a little, loosen up, to allow a little wonder and imagination back into our ever so responsible and serious lives? Could he be asking us to trust, to trust beyond what we can know and grasp, beyond what we can hold in place with out own will and effort, that we might become closer to the presence of the living God? Could this be what Jesus is talking about – responding to life and to love totally and unthinkingly, with honesty and enthusiasm and intensity, without always having to step back and so carefully analyze everything?
“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child, will never enter into it.” I recall a comment by Oscar Wilde. Speaking of his mother, he said, “As a child she entered a finishing school, and by the age of eighteen, she was finished.” Well, Jesus seems to saying that he wants unfinished people in his kingdom, people still growing and learning, open to wonder and mystery, people who are a lot, well…a lot like children. “There is no changing it; it has been decided. There is room for no one else.”
Now this where I thought this sermon was going when I first started working on it this week. I heard Jesus’ call to an uptight world, a call to regain the trust, imagination and spontaneity of a child. These are the people he can work with. These are the people he wants in his realm. And it remains a helpful lesson. Because in a world of cautious, careful, rational human calculation, how easily we lose that sense of wonder, that ability to dream outlandish dreams and hope outlandish hopes. As Frederick Buechner says, “The face that a child wears is that child’s own face, whereas ours are the faces that we have spent years arranging and rearranging.” I want only children in my kingdom. A helpful lesson.
But, you know, the more I worked with this text, and with Jesus’ comments about children and the Kingdom of God, the more it occurred to me that there might be more going on here than I first realized. Why children?
Let’s think for a moment about the position of children in the first century world. Of course parents loved their children, as we do. They regarded children as gifts from God and valued them. The presence of children meant that the community had a future. But scholars point out that people in the ancient world also viewed children in another way. It would not have seemed unusual to people when the disciples intervened to keep the children away from Jesus. In fact, most of the bystanders would have approved of that. For children in antiquity were at the bottom of the social ladder. They were seen as weak and powerless, with little if any social standing. The idea of putting a child’s needs first would have made no sense. Children were to be disciplined and always took a back seat to the interest and needs of adults. And so their sudden appearance in this text would be seen as an unnecessary distraction. The voice of the disciples is the voice of first century conventional wisdom. “Let’s keep it quiet, let’s keep these children under control, we’re trying to have a Kingdom here. The Lord has no time for such as these.” To be a child was to be a nobody. This was the voice, as I said, of conventional wisdom.
And then we hear another voice – “Let the children come to me, do not stop them” – and once again everything is turned upside down by this crazy Jew from Nazareth. We discover that the little ones, the powerless ones, the ones who have been pushed down, pushed over, pushed in, pushed by, pushed out are now given priority – in fact, they’re given a place of honor. Jesus seems to be saying, hey, the world is not fixed and finished – there’s that word, finished again. The world isn’t fixed or finished, so listen up, all you nobodies. There’s plenty of room here, even for the small and the powerless and the vulnerable. And the grown-ups – those who are finished, those who have arrived – are just scratching their heads and wondering, what kind of a kingdom is this anyway?
And so, we begin to see that this nice little story about Jesus and the children has just a bit of an edge to it. As New Testament scholar, Thomas Long says, “The command to ‘let the children come to me, do not stop them,’ is, in effect, a command to knock down the barriers between the church and all the ‘little ones’, all who lack worth and status in the eyes of the world.” Now, Jesus is talking about children to be sure, we must not forget that. Always we must ask ourselves as individuals and as a church – how are we bringing children, all our children, into the sphere of Christ’s love today? How are we modeling that love…how are we expressing it? We just promised to do whatever we can to support Kristen and Andy as they nurture and parent Elia. But beyond that important task we also must always ask what more can we do to help our families, our world, to value children and to provide opportunities for them to have the experiences to increase their sense of security, dignity, affirmation; to help them have water to drink, food to eat, health and hope. I want no more pictures of suffering children with lifeless eyes.
Yes, Jesus is talking about children, but, as Thomas Long points out, he’s also pointing to all the other nobodies in our world – the forgotten woman in the back ward of a nursing home, the teenager abandoned on mean urban streets, the migrant worker, the homeless man arguing with all the demons in his head – all the little ones, all the nobodies, all with a place in the kingdom of this Lord.
A pastor writes, “I asked a woman in my church, a woman who works with children every day, what could I do to improve my ministry with the children in our congregation? She replied, ‘ Well, perhaps the most important thing you can do is, whenever you are talking to a child, stoop down to the child’s eye level, rather than look down upon him or her. That gesture, more than anything else, signifies that you honor the world of children and want to be a part of it.’ Concludes that minister, “How much of our ministry is an attempt to stoop, to get down to the same level as any person in need?” What’s the old saying, “No man is taller than when he stoops over to help a child.” Jesus seems to understand this as he reaches out to, welcomes and stoops to greet all the little ones and let them know they are honored and valued and loved, and have a place at his table and in his kingdom. And we are left to ask, how do we make a place in this church?
And as we reflect on this text, let’s not forget, that no matter what our age, we will all experience what it is to be small and vulnerable and powerless. Writes William Willimon, “I asked an older man in my church, ‘George, where have you been for the last few months? What’s keeping you from church?’ With some embarrassment he said, ‘Preacher, I’ve been having some problems. Frankly, I can’t sit for more than about thirty minutes without having to get up and go to the bathroom.’’ I can identify with that, um. Says Willimon, “I thought, ‘Well, George, you aren’t alone in that. Most of the children in the congregation cannot sit through a whole service without going to the bathroom either.’ Then it occurred to me that by giving attention to our ‘little ones’, we just might open the church up more fully to others in the congregation who are not ‘little ones’ in terms of their age, but rather because of some condition in their life.”
Everyone feels little someday, everyone knows those moments – perhaps sitting in a doctor’s office waiting for test results, looking at a shrinking bank account or holding the hand of a loved one who is ill or having your own hand held – we all know moments when we feel small and weak and vulnerable. And just then Jesus comes by and says, “Why, you’re just the one for me – one I can inspire and work with and welcome and use for God’s great purposes. There is room here, there is welcome here, there is purpose here – for ‘little ones’, for nobodies, even for one such as you.”