Children Being Children

Children Being Children

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

September 20, 2015; 17 Pentecost, Proper 20, Year B, Track 2

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a – Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not be boastful and false to the truth. Such wisdom does not come down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, devilish. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.

Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures.

Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.

Mark 7:30-37 – Jesus and his disciples went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, "The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the way?" But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

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Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. James 3:13

Our story from Mark's gospel opens with Jesus doing the wise and hard work of accepting his inevitable death and preparing for it. That's a piece of work we all have to do.

Talk of death always gets some pushback. My grandfather's death convinced me to start thinking about death, preparing, and accepting it long before it nears, because it was the only flaw that I saw in his wonderful life. I've mentioned here before that one reason I can believe in a God who loves me with unqualified love is because I received that kind of love from my grandfather. He may have been the most influential person in my life.

Granddad was one of ten children, all of whom lived to full adulthood, a rare thing in his day. In fact, all of his siblings were alive until Granddad was well into his seventies. Then Uncle Joe fell into a well and died of complications from pneumonia. It was the first time Granddad let the notion that he might die truly enter his awareness. By then, it was a little too late. He didn't handle the end of life with the grace and humor that characterized the rest of it.

As Jesus pondered the inevitable, fatal trajectory of his life and expanded his lens of trust toward infinite hope, the disciples remained stuck in their narrow focus—the big competition—who is the greatest? It seems silly to us reading in the context of the great gospel story. But it is so human. So like us.

Watch this week and see if you can catch yourself. See if you find yourself measuring. Lining people up in a room. Who's more important than whom? Where do you stack up in the line-up? Maybe no one in this room does that… But just pay attention this week and see if you notice anything.

Jesus breaks up the "greatest game." He tells them the greatest is the servant. The lowest. Then he takes a child into his arms. Here's the image of real greatness: Jesus, the servant of all, willingly preparing to give his life; welcoming the child, embracing the child.

I think there are two ways for us to welcome the child; to embrace the child. Welcome the child in you. Welcome the child in all people. For we are all children; children of God.

You know how children are. Their hands are always open, ready to receive. Give a child a new toy and you will not hear any false modesty, "No, I don't deserve this." The child joyously cries, "Yes!" And maybe without a prompt, an added "Thank you."

A child is dependent and knows it. Children expect grownups to meet their needs.

When we grownups do our job—when trust is established—a child can be so open. "Daddy, what are we going to do today?" Nearly any answer will prompt a hearty, "Yay!" "We're going to the Farmer's Market today." "Yay!" "We're washing windows today!" "Yay!"

And children love to help, to be of service. Whenever I weed the flower garden, granddaughter Laura wants to help. And then she'll tell the next grownup see sees, "I helped Granddad weed the garden. I love to pull weeds." Last week she washed the windows with ecstatic joy. How different would our jobs be if we approached them with childish joy.

One more thing about children. They are unafraid to ask for love. "Could you hold me, Granddad?" The answer is always a loving, "Yes."

We are God's children. And God yearns to answer our plea, "Hold me, please." God longs to hold and nurture us with infinite, unqualified love. God wants to give us life, abundant life. If only we can have expectant, dependent eyes to see and accept God's gifts.

Whenever we can be in the present moment with childlike trust, we can receive the circumstances of the present moment as a gift to share with the divine, and then God washes windows with us, whatever window-washing presents itself as necessary in the present moment.

In a few moments, you will open your hands and you will be given God in the humble form of bread and wine. The gifts of God for the people of God. Like milk from the breast of a loving mother. Intimacy. Nurture. Communion. Love embodied in this holy place.

But out there, a lot of people and nations are still arguing about power. Who is the greatest? It is so easy to get hooked by the noise. Yet, these too are God's children, arguing like his own disciples did.

Sometimes, when I get frustrated, angry, or even outraged at someone in the news, I think about them as children—in their mother's arms, or on their father's shoulders; walking hand-in-hand with a proud grandparent. I try to remember that many disorders so often begin from early wounding, when we were young and vulnerable. When people are wounded and then become wounders, what they most need is security and love. If we are going to share in God's work of healing the world, we need to help extend God's security and love to all people, the wounded and the wounders.

Look at the disciples. What a mess! Jesus' little group included James and John, the "sons of thunder" who wanted to call down fire from heaven to destroy a Samaritan village that wouldn't welcome them; Peter, the impulsive and wrong-headed one; Matthew, a tax collector collaborating with the hated Romans to exploit an occupied people; Simon the Zealot, one of the fanatic nationalists employing guerrilla and terrorist tactics against the Romans; and the unfaithful, betraying treasurer, Judas.

Jesus' children were as messed up as any of us—any family, business, group or nation. Yet he gathered them to himself with kindness centered around the table. He fed them, healed them, forgave them, accepted them. He loved them and invited them to share his calling to serve through love. He tried to teach them to bear a willingness to die rather than to kill. Then, he gave his life for them.

One of our parishioners told me a story the other day. He teaches sixth and seventh graders. He's been particularly concerned about Jose, a student he's known for two years. It was obvious to the teacher that Jose was very feminine and very vulnerable. Jose's responses to writing tasks were always stories about wearing high heels and other girlie subjects.

Last week the student was called to the library to take a make-up test. The note from the office was for "Emily." "Is that your name now?" the teacher asked. "Yes," she nodded.[i]

After the child had left the room the teacher gathered the rest of the class, and in a serious tone, said he had to talk with them about something important. He reminded them of something they had discussed earlier when they read a story about a person who was brave, risking life for another. "Do you remember when I said that if the occasion ever presented itself, I hoped I would be brave enough to sacrifice to save another person? How I hoped I would be able run in front of a train to push a child to out of the way? Or brave enough to take a bullet in order to protect another person? Well I've got that chance today, and so do you." He told them about Jose-Emily. He said how he intends to stand up for Emily, to defend and protect her, even if it could be costly.

The kids challenged the teacher. "What do you mean about a bullet? There's no bullet here."

"Oh, yes, there could be. Transgender kids are often bullied, and the rate of suicide among trans youth is very high. What we can do to prevent that bullet is to step up and be a hero. Show your support for Emily and let the entire school know of your support. It is risky. You may have people tease or even threaten you. We need to stand together for her. Emily is going through something more difficult than any of us will ever face, and she needs us." He could see; there was buy-in from the class.

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

It seems simple. All of us:  Children, taking care of other children.

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[i] The names have been changed to protect privacy.

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