Scripture text: Mark 9:30-37
It is an iconic and beloved image, and admittedly for this pastor who has done extensive work with children and youth, a favorite of mine: Jesus and the little children. We’ve all seen numerous depictions of this scene and the others like it from the Gospels. It presents an image of the faith that is wholesome, warm, and inviting, highlighting perhaps what is best about our life and practice as Christians.
But as is often the case with such familiar and beloved texts, there are certain cliches that seem to tag along. Many preachers this Sunday when speaking on Jesus’ use of a child to make a point to the disciples will likely highlight one of these: the reality that children were not valued in the ancient world in the same way they are today. It follows that to hold up a worthless child as an example of what is best in a disciple is something shocking and unexpected.
I’m not sure I track with this line of thinking anymore. I used to, but not so much now. Given the degree of sacrifice parents are often willing to make for their children in the Bible, I question their supposed lack of value. The sacrifice of Isaac in the Old Testament is a shocking story precisely because Isaac’s life is so valuable to his parents. The holy family flees to Egypt to escape the tyranny of Herod the Great precisely because they love their son Jesus enough to not surrender him to the murder squads.
But not only that, I also question the idea that we here today value our children to a much greater capacity than the ancients once did. Many patterns and behaviors of our society call into question the supposed value we place upon our children. We’re not as good at this as we’d like to think we are.
First off, despite the fondness of these stories here in the church, children are often disparaged and disdained in many churches. They’re considered noisy and disruptive and parents and families with small children are often discouraged from worship in both subtle and direct ways. Youth are considered rather condescendingly as the “future” of the church, a statement that highlights their lack of value as part of the “present” of the church. “Seen and not heard” is still the often the order of the day within the walls of many congregations today.
Our broader society is not much better. The perpetual debate over how our government spends its money often throws our children under the bus. We cut taxes to “save money,” and yet what programs get cut from the lack of funds? Food programs that feed hungry children. Schools and teachers that educate our children. Our political class is more than happy to sacrifice the welfare of children to preserve the perks their campaign donors receive. As comedian George Carlin once observed of these often “pro-life” politicians, “If you’re pre-born, you’re fine; if you’re preschool, you’re...(well, I won’t use the same word he used, but you get the picture.)”
Warning: Profanity (It IS George Carlin, after all.)
And then there’s the news from this week. A young black Muslim student at a Texas school completed a class project to build a clock for his engineering class. He, like many of his peers, brought said clock to school to show to his teacher. He was arrested by police for “making a hoax bomb.” None of his peers were arrested or harassed in any way. Of course, to the bigots of our society, there is nothing more terrifying than a non-white non-Christian kid who’s smart and so something had to be done to put this one back in his place. The clarion call of bullies everywhere.
Clearly an existential threat to our society.
Of course, bullying is another issue where our lack of concern for our children is often highlighted. In fact, there’s still an argument made that bullying is somehow a good thing for children, that it builds character or some other such nonsense. I can assure you from first hand experience that those arguments are bull. I confided in last week’s Sunday School that there was a time in my life when I was seriously contemplating suicide. I admitted that it was over a girl. Seems silly now in hindsight, to react so to a breakup. But when it comes after a lifetime of rejection as a perpetually bullied child, there is a twisted logic to it all. That’s the legacy of what many think is a perfectly okay right of passage for our children. Let them be abused. It’s good for them. The graveyards of our young give mute testimony to how wrong that is. A graveyard I very easily could have been in instead of standing before you now.
One of the most important rules of hiking in the woods is to never get between a mama bear and her cubs. The mama is strong and the cubs are weak and vulnerable, so by instinct it falls to the parent to protect them from all danger. We humans aren’t supposed to be any different. We are meant to protect and nurture children. We could take a lesson from nature itself on that score.
But therein also lies the issue of why we don’t and it goes to the heart of what Jesus is trying to teach us this day. Children are weak and vulnerable and our society worships strength and power above all else. It’s at the heart of the argument the disciples are having among themselves in our Gospel text. Who’s the strongest? Who’s the greatest? That’s what matters to us. That’s why bullies are often admired, the rich are coddled in political circles, people of minority races and religions are discriminated against, and those without voice are thrown under the bus time and again. We worship strength and those things and people that lack it are looked down upon as of less value and purpose.
And Jesus tells us that is who we are to be as his disciples. Weak and vulnerable as little children. Dependent like they are. His perspective is an honest one. Our strength is often an illusion. Our power is far more limited than we’d like to believe it to be. As we heard just last Sunday, “For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” Our power can only win us the world, and were any of us to even succeed in that, he who dies with the most toys is still dead.
No, as weak and vulnerable children, we need a parent who can protect and nurture us from that which threatens us most. Our power cannot stop death. Our strength is impotent before the grave. But there is one who can shield us from this danger, the one Jesus calls Abba. The one who sent him into this world to put right what has gone wrong. The one who will bring him to a cross to face death itself and then on the third day overcome that great power by rising from the tomb.
None of that we can do on our own. Our strength fails us. We are as helpless as little children before the power of sin and death. It is only through a power beyond ourselves that we can hope to overcome this foe. That power is God’s and God’s alone.
Whether we like it or not, we are as little children. Our worship of human strength only brings harm and hurt and ultimately solves nothing of the true problems we face. It accomplishes nothing that truly matters. Our hope can only be found elsewhere. Our hope is found in a God who gives all for our sake. A God whose strength is made manifest in weakness, the weakness of a cross, the weakness of a child dying upon it. Hope for the world. Life for the dying, found in the least likely circumstance possible. Human strength will not save us. Christ dying upon the cross, that is our salvation. Amen.
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