Such as These

The scripture passage this week is long, isn’t it? Not only is it long, but it is also difficult. Touchy. Okay, maybe not so long, but it feels long as we work our way through it. That was exactly what the Pharisees were trying to do. They wanted to run rings around Jesus; they wanted to confuse him; they wanted to catch him out. They wanted him to look foolish. They wanted him to take a stand on an issue that was sure to cause division. Or anger. Or hurt. They were constantly trying to get him in trouble with the people. Yet, Jesus managed to find ways to avoid that trouble. He didn’t avoid the issue as it was presented, but he managed to turn it around in such a way that it was hard to take offense or to keep the argument boiling. He defused what we call “hot-button” issues.

So, what is the preacher to do today? We live on the edge of a boil, on the verge of an argument ready to break out. Is it better to avoid or to take a stand? Is it better to talk around an issue or to face it head on? You are the expert on your community. You know what can be heard and what will not be. Maybe one of the considerations is not whether to address a delicate issue, but where to do so. Is the pulpit – traditionally understood as a monological medium with no room for conversation – the best place to get into the issues in the text this week? Do we recast the preaching moment and allow for a more dialogical approach? If so, then realize that many long-term members have not been prepared for such conversation and may not respond as you might hope. Maybe what you might work toward is a seed-planting moment with a clear opportunity to continue the conversation somewhere else. Or let the sacrament be the invitation to go deeper, to listen more, to respond openly.

It’s World Communion Sunday this week--a date when we remember that when we partake of the sacrament of Holy Communion, we don’t do it alone. This meal we share is not for us alone. The ritual is performed in more languages than we can count; the bread takes many forms and flavors. The celebrants come in all colors and answer to a variety of titles. It’s a World Communion observance in a diverse and divided world. And it’s a world with needs as real as bread and hungers as deep as the ocean.

Here’s a question – “Is Communion primarily a spiritual event or a physical one?” Well, it’s a bit of both. But don’t we lean to the spiritual side? Sure, there is bread and juice, but it is the grace and the remembrance that really make it Communion. Our task on Communion days is to experience the presence of Christ, isn’t it? It’s our task to transport ourselves onto a spiritual plane and commune with the one who set the table. We’re to move beyond the mundane to enjoy the sublime. Right?

Well, I’m not so sure. Jesus seemed intent on making things, making faith, real. He was grounded in the reality of the world in which we live. His images of the kingdom and the metaphors he used were of earth - seeds and pearls, light and darkness, sheep and coins, the stuff we live with every day. I think he sat at the table and took hold of the reality of bread and said, “This is my body. This is me. I’m here, I’m as real as bread. And every time you pick up a loaf of bread, you’ll be touching me, holding me, claiming me. I’m here, right here in this world with you.” He wanted people grounded, not floating around on some heavenly cloud somewhere. When the disciples tried to turn the talk to the reality of the kingdom, asking about the seating arrangements and the place cards on his table, Jesus got exasperated with them. “This cup,” he said, “this cup is my whole life. I’m as present as the clay it took to make this cup. I’m as alive as the bouquet of this wine, the fruit of the vine. I’m that vine,” he said. He was trying to get his followers to live in the world, to pay attention to what was right in front of them.

It was a trait of his, issuing an invitation to pay attention. He was always pointing to the most unlikely things and the most unlikely people and asking his followers to see them, to really see them. As Mark records,

This is the Jesus we know and love best of all, I believe. But we have to realize that this action was a radical departure from normal behavior. No one with any authority or power or standing in society in this period of history would even have time for children. It just wasn’t done. And yet here is Jesus, not only allowing children to be in his presence, but taking them up in his arms and blessing them. It was almost embarrassing. I am sure that some - like the disciples themselves - were scandalized by this behavior.

Jesus didn’t care. What he cared about was blessing. He cared about touching and putting children on his lap because they were real people, worthy of his attention and his presence. He cared about welcoming and including. He cared about making sure that everyone understood the value of those of whom he said, “Let them come.” Mark says Jesus was angry; indignant, our translation says. It’s a harsh word in Greek. Jesus was trying to be concrete. “You’re in the way,” he said to his disciples turned bouncers trying to keep the kids away. You’re in the way, not just of these kids, but of the kingdom.” This was a “get behind me Satan” moment. One of many. The disciples were missing something fundamental. So, Jesus was trying to help his hearers see something of the glory and the wonder of the kingdom, so he grabbed the nearest visual aid he could find.

Come and see, He could have said. See through these eyes the wonder of God’s creation. Come and see the needs and the opportunities to serve. Come and see how we can live out the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves. And then He gathered them up. So that we could see that the best way to rid oneself of doubts and fears and suspicions and animosity is by getting outside of yourself long enough to bless a child. To talk to them, to listen to them, to experience the world through their eyes.

But then, he wanted to make sure we didn’t miss the point here. He wanted to be sure the disciples didn’t miss it and that, through them, we don’t miss it either. “To such as these belongs the kingdom of God.” Actually, he didn’t say “belongs.” The verb here isn’t “belongs.” It is “is.” Is. For it is to such as these that the kingdom of God is. Is? They’ve got it, he says, or they are it. You want to embrace the kingdom, embrace a child.” Let them come,” he says. That means that how we treat children and what we allow done to children or not done to children is what we do to the kingdom of God.

Wow. I mean, wow. Don’t you think? And then, in case we were still unclear, Jesus drives it home. Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it. What does that mean exactly? That’s the question that has driven biblical scholars crazy for over two millennia. On the one hand, are we supposed to receive the kingdom as a child would receive the kingdom or as a child would receive anything? Or are we supposed to receive the kingdom in the way we receive a child? Or as we receive a child? In other words, is our ability to receive the kingdom dependent upon how we receive children into our midst? How we treat children or mistreat them, as individuals and as a society. When children suffer at the hands of adults, governments, religious leaders, or parents, are we in danger of losing our grip on the kingdom of God?

Maybe the heaviness of that line of thinking is why most commentators take the other track. How do children receive things? And how do we emulate them? Lots of ink has been spilt trying to answer that. Words like innocence and purity or dependance or wonder are often used to help us grasp the attitude it takes to receive the kingdom. But I wonder if it isn’t about an attitude, but an action. Attitude is important; I don’t mean to suggest that it isn’t. Yet, Jesus is being concrete here, grounding us in the world of doing. So maybe his point is more earthy than we tend to think. Simpler. So, how do children receive anything? With both hands. That’s how. Then, how shall we receive the kingdom?

Rev. Dr. Derek Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, served churches in Indiana and Arkansas and the British Methodist Church. His PhD is from University of Edinburgh in preaching and media. He has taught preaching in seminary and conference settings for more than 20 years.