Sermon Sunday 27 October 2019

Songs With Actions and Other Catastrophes
Luke 18:15-30

A colleague of mine arrived at her new parish to discover a particular custom. The custom was that at the conclusion of each Sunday service, the children from the Sunday School would come to the front of the church and display their creations – perhaps a coloured in picture of a good shepherd, or some sort of craft inevitably involving a paper plate. Then, one of the children would be interviewed about what they had learned that day. The random choosing of a child had results that varied from poignant to hilarious to tearful.

 

Thinking this was a splendid concept, my colleague sought to expand it. After a child had outlined to the adults what they had learned in Sunday School, one of the adults was chosen at random to explain to the children what they learned from the sermon. Shockingly, this was met with some resistance by the congregation, and particularly by those who were chosen to deliver a spontaneous summary.

The whole practice was soon discontinued.

I have some very strong views about the place of children in the church generally, but one of my strongest views about performances by children. Now, I don’t mean when children actively participate in the liturgy in some way by reading, or providing music or serving at the altar or myriad other ways. I’m talking about that practice where the liturgy is interrupted so that a group of children can sing a song (usually with actions) as a form of entertainment for the adults. This wheeling out of ‘the children’ is not because they are outstanding performers, nor even because they lyrics they might sing are so sophisticated and inspirational they simply must be heard. Rather, it is a fetishization of children in which they are used to make adults feel good about themselves, the church or the future. It hardly needs to be said that exploiting children to meet the emotional needs of adults is a bad thing, but sometimes we can be slow to spot it in our midst. Of course, it’s not just in churches. The disgusting spectacle of toddlers in tiaras, daubed in makeup and competing in beauty pageants is an extreme example of the same phenomenon. But it’s also all around us. I’m not a parent, but I know that parenting is extraordinarily difficult, and made more difficult by the social expectation that children will behave and achieve in a manner and a timeframe that is beneficial to adults rather than the child. So much of our educational and social norms are based on a child meeting certain benchmarks by a certain time, learning to conform and, perhaps most importantly, learning their place in the pecking order.

In the latter part of the twentieth century, as women biblical scholars were at last being granted a voice in the academy, a slogan emerged which gave insight into the biblical text. ‘Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence’. This meant that, given women are half the population, they are surely present in biblical narratives even when not explicitly mentioned. And, of course, when women areexplicitly mentioned in these texts from a patriarchal culture, this merits an even closer look to see the significance of their mention. It is amazing how many women are in the scriptures if we only have ears to hear.

In this early part of the twenty-first century, similar work is being undertaken about children in the scriptures, not least by Dr Jerome Berryman the founder of Godly Play. Firstly, if we imagine that wherever there are people in the biblical narratives there are children, we start to see the scriptures afresh. Secondly, if we scrutinise those portions of the scriptures where children are explicitly mentioned, these texts take on particular significance.

People were bringing even infants to Jesus that he might touch them; and when the disciples saw it, they sternly ordered them not to do it. But Jesus called for them and said, ‘Let the little 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.’

Let’s unpack this.

Seeking the touch of Jesus makes sense. Jesus is a charismatic, travelling teacher who appears to have a close connection to the divine. The Greek text has no proper noun for who was doing the bringing, but I think it’s safe to assume that the ‘people’ bringing the infants were women. I’m not imagining many first century men bringing babies to Jesus. And perhaps here we get a sense of why the disciples were telling them to shove off. Perhaps in their mind Jesus was too important or too busy for women and babies.

But in this now infamous scene in Luke’s gospel, Jesus says ‘Allow the children to come to me, do not forbid them, for of such is the Kingdom of God’. The English translation is trying valiantly, but not as helpful as it could be. The use of ‘belongs’ suggests that the Kingdom of God is somehow separate to these babies and their mothers, some sort of property that they own. But the Greek text says ‘for of such is the kingdom of God’, suggesting that the Kingdom consists of infants like this, and their mothers who come seeking blessing.

 Jesus goes on, ‘whoever shall not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child shall not enter it’. This is a text which has been interpreted to within an inch of it’s life, but here’s what I reckon.

Mothers are bringing their babies, and are being turned away. Jesus stops the rejection, and instead invites them in. He then delivers a teaching phrase, which I think is summarising what he has just embodied. Whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as I just received these mothers and babies, will never enter it.

 Which begs the question, what is the Kingdom of God like? And how do we receive it?

 Perhaps the Kingdom of God comes close to us when we are feeling at our most busy and important. Perhaps those nearest to us, with our best interests at heart, can keep the Kingdom at a distance. Perhaps the Kingdom arrives in our midst not with power and fanfare, but with the appearance of weakness and humility. Perhaps the Kingdom asks only that we be willing to reach out our hands and touch, to see and cherish that which has been rejected or ignored.

 In this text we see mothers and babies placed at the centre of the story as bearers of the Kingdom of God. This is not because they are adorable or heartwarming. Children can be very beautiful, but only about 10% of the time. The rest of the time kids are screaming and pooing and crying and making demands. The children are at the heart of the story because they are vulnerable and easily marginalised. Children are not in the story, nor in our lives and communities, to give us a warm glow, but to help us see the fiery presence of the spirit at work.