We tumble into our gospel lesson this morning in the midst of something. Jesus is in Judea, having tried to get away from the crowds yet again, but still managing to be surrounded. In the crowds this time are a couple of Pharisees who have some “really important” questions for Jesus about the law and marriage – complex questions about how faith should shape life and relationships. This is serious religious conversation, and the disciples are here for it. The disciples who are a bit hit or miss on catching on to what Jesus is teaching, are engaging in this conversation. Suddenly, in the midst of this the scene shifts and we have children being brought to Jesus by their adults – parents, grandparents, caregivers – in hopes that he might bless them.
The disciples decide to act as bouncers for Jesus and start telling the adults that they need to leave. The disciples rebuke them. I suppose they were trying to protect Jesus, keeping him focused on the “important” things – teachings, healings, miracles. The children could wait, you know, until they grow up a bit more. They aren’t worth his energy.
Now I want you know that Jewish custom deeply values children. They are to be loved and cared for deeply. The disciple’s reaction isn’t a reflection of Jewish values. Rather, I think that disciples were more caught up in the societal norm of the influential, the powerful, the important getting the attention. Children weren’t any of those things – they were a distraction, low on the social ladder, totally dependent on those around them so naturally the disciples rally to protect Jesus’ energy and time.
Except, Jesus doesn’t see the children this way. “Let them come. Do not turn them away for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Dumbfounded and chastised, the disciples make way for the children, and Jesus quietly blesses each and every one.
And we, on this side of the page, sigh contentedly at the sweet and tender image of Jesus surrounded by children. But we are looking at it through different contextual lenses. To the people of Jesus’ time, this is a shocking story, a story of disruption. Not because Jesus speaks to the disciples that way, but because of what he says to the disciples. In a few short sentences Jesus turns the status quo on its head, again.
Preacher and theologian Barbara Brown Tayler once wrote that Jesus is terrible at meeting people’s expectations. He ignores the people everyone assumes he should pay attention to, only to focus on the ones everyone overlooks. Jesus sets his ministry focus on the most vulnerable of society and then reminds those listening that the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.
This is not a position unique to Jesus, rather is a reflection of his Jewish roots. For the Hebrew scriptures have a long-standing tradition of care of the vulnerable. Our passage from Deuteronomy is a clear example. The instructions on how to harvest a field, an olive grove, a vineyard moves away from the traditional take everything off the field of harvest. Instead, the instructions say to leave behind the forgotten sheaf of wheat, to not remove all the olives off the branch, to leave some grapes on the vine. Why? So that the immigrant, the widow and the orphan can gather what remains to use. The immigrant, the widow, the orphan – examples of the most vulnerable in society. Leave some behind so that they are able to survive, even thrive. But why? The answer comes in one sentence: “remember you were slaves in Egypt.” Remember what it means to be the outsider, to be powerless, to depend on the kindness of others…
“Remember you were slaves in Egypt”. The emotions that this memory evokes should be the basis for creating a community rooted in compassion and justice because if the people remembered what it meant to be vulnerable, then they would be more intentional about ensuring the vulnerable are not forgotten or dehumanized.
This is why Jesus welcomes the children. He is reminding those around him what the God’s community looks like, what community should look like.
The world tells us that we need to be independent and self-sufficient, have everything under control all the time in order to have worth and to be loved. But God’s kingdom isn’t like that, it’s built on grace, on love, on compassion. And these things only make sense when we realize we need them, which our children instinctively seem to know. They know they need to rely on others, to trust that someone will catch them when they fall, that the world is meant to be approached with curiosity and openness.
Jesus reminds of our call to this worldview. And within that call, we are to support and care for the most vulnerable in our communities, for they too are God’s beloveds. Not more beloved that we, but just as beloved. And if we are all part of God’s kingdom, then don’t we need to be attentive to those who the world casts aside?
In Jesus’ day it was the immigrant, the widow, the orphan, the child – who reflected the kingdom. Who would we name vulnerable today? The list would be a lot longer, unfortunately, for so many more fall into the category of vulnerable. The newcomer, the street involved, the children, the Indigenous sibling, the addict, the queer, the trans…
Today is just one example of how we do this: through intentional and radical welcome of the vulnerable into our communities of faith. PIE day, which is today, is a day for us to remember our call to be public, intentional and explicit in the ways we welcome and support the 2SLGBTQIA+ community in our church. For the church has not always been a place of welcome, and for many churches, it continues to be this way. The queer community has heard the same thing the parents in our gospel lesson heard – not you, not here, not you… So we need to learn what it means to say something different, and not just in the middle of the sermon, but in our everyday life as a community of faith, and as God’s people.
We are called to say clearly and publicly that God’s love includes everyone. To say intentionally that there is room at the table. To say explicitly that no one is left out of God’s grace. For Jesus’ words were very clear: ‘do not stop them”
We are not to put up barriers where God has offered blessings. We are not to be gatekeepers to grace. This isn’t a comfortable or easy challenge because we are a species that likes order and predictability. We like to know how everything works, but the Good News keeps widening the circle. Jesus, time and again, points us to the people the world overlooks, reminding us that God’s kingdom grows from the margins in.
“Remember you were slaves in Egypt.” Each and every one of us has been vulnerable at some point. Each and every one of us has needed care from another, depended on someone’s kindness, had hoped that someone would open the door instead of closing it. “Let them come to me, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” This is what church and the world is supposed to be – a place where people discover that they belong – not because they have earned it, but because they are loved by God. This is what we, the beloved of God should be living out – the breaking down of barriers, offering radical welcome and caring for the ones the world ignores. There is room for all of us in God’s community.
The Good News of our Gospel comes in a quiet moment, when Jesus lays his hands on each child. No speech, no explanation, just blessing. He offers those watching and reading, a glimpse of God’s kingdom – where the vulnerable are seen, where the overlooked are welcomed, and where those with the least power receive greater care. And we in turn are be like the children around him – open handed and hearted, hopeful, and in need of grace.
Thanks be to God.
