If you were here at worship last Sunday, then you know that the service ran the gamut of emotions.

 

Ginny Gibson started it off by sharing her amazing gifts in the introit, and we had the chance to express to her our joy on her upcoming marriage.

 

We bade Godspeed to Sandi Mekosh, who -- with her family – is moving to South Carolina to take care of her father-in-law who is battling lung cancer.

 

And we celebrated with the Franey family as little Cole was baptized, marking his acceptance into the care of the Christian church and the beginning of his faith journey.

 

But there was one moment in last Sunday’s service that really got to me.  I caught it for just a moment out of the corner of my eye, and I hope you saw it, too.  It was when little Julia Franey, age 4, was dancing up here on the chancel.  Dancing freely, without any sense of self-consciousness or inhibition.  Dancing out of sheer joy.  The Psalmist [150:4] exhorts us to “praise [the Lord] with… dance,” and that’s exactly what little Julia was doing. 

 

I doubt that many of us adults would be willing to do what she did.  But that’s the advantage of being a child.  Children don’t usually have the same fears and hang-ups and self-consciousness that grown-ups do.

 

Several years ago, during my last pastorate, I made a visit to a couple who was interested in joining the church.  As we sat down at the kitchen table, their eight year old daughter joined us, and she started peppering me with questions:  “How could Mary have a baby without a husband?”  “How could Jesus rise from the dead?”  “I prayed that my grandma wouldn’t die and she did; how come God didn’t answer my prayer?”

 

You know these questions.  You want to ask them yourself.  But you don’t.  Unlike children, we grown-ups worry that we might look foolish or might let it slip that sometimes, we just don’t understand things.

 

That’s what’s going on in this morning’s Gospel lesson.  As they pass through Galilee on their way to Jerusalem, Jesus begins to teach his disciples that he will be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.  Jesus wants to prepare his closest friends for the sorrow and shock of his upcoming arrest and death; and Jesus also wants assurance that the disciples understand his teachings about God’s kingdom and will follow them and will carry on his work after his earthly life is over. 

 

This is not the first time Jesus has told his inner circle what awaits him in Jerusalem, but they still don’t understand what he has been trying to say.  The disciples could have asked, like a child, the questions that were at the forefront of their minds, questions such as, “Why do you have to die?  What is going to happen to us?  How will we be able to carry on without you?”

 

But, unlike a child, the disciples don’t ask the questions they most want answered.  Instead, they act childish and argue with one another about who is the greatest.

 

We can imagine that Jesus is deeply disappointed by this little group.  For three years, they have heard him preach about the Kingdom of God – a kingdom in which the existing powers would be toppled and replaced with a new order.  But the disciples still see Jesus’ mission in political terms; they still believe that the Messiah will be a conquering warrior who will defeat Israel’s enemies.  And in so thinking, they have totally missed the essence of Jesus’ message.  When Jesus tells them he must suffer and die, they don’t want to hear it; suffering and dying is for losers; the Messiah is supposed to be a victor.  The disciples don’t want to hear Jesus’ talk, and so they busy themselves with chatter about who is the greatest among them.

 

If they can’t understand his words, then maybe they will understand his actions.  Jesus takes a child into his arms, and using the little one to underscore his message, Jesus tells his disciples, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”  In St. Matthew’s version of this scene [18:3-4], Jesus adds, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

 

In our idealized depictions of this scene, the child is a sweet-faced cherub, innocent and rosy-cheeked – a lot like beautiful little Leah Dillon, who we had the joy of baptizing this morning.  But the reality was probably far different.  Life in first century society was especially harsh for children, who were considered “the least of these.”  They were powerless and survival was uncertain; infant and childhood mortality was high.  Widespread poverty meant that their families may not have been able to adequately feed them, and it was common for children to be abandoned or sold into slavery. 

 

And so it is likely that the child Jesus pulls into his arms is not the cuddly, baby-powdered youngster we might envision, but rather a street urchin who has learned to live in the alleyways by wits alone and is not used to being held by such loving and gentle arms. 

 

The disciples know what the earthly definition of greatness is, but Jesus tells them that if they want to talk about greatness in the Kingdom of God, they need to know the standard by which greatness is measured.  And to make his point, he uses a child, covered with the dirt and smell of street grime, who is considered by society to be no better than cattle.

 

It may be hard for us to accept, but as we read this passage, we can see that we can be so like the disciples.  We say we are followers of Jesus, but sometimes we just don’t “get” his teachings, and in so many ways our actions can be as childish as theirs.  Like kids on the playground, we compete with one another, hoping to be considered the best, vying to be picked first, forming cliques to establish our superiority, and excluding those who we think aren’t cool or smart or pretty or good enough to be in our group.

 

But Jesus offers a different message about God and God’s kingdom.  He tells his disciples that they must reverse everything they know about who is important and why, in order to understand and grow closer to God.  And so must we.

 

It is as if Jesus is saying, “So you want to be first?  Then you have to transform your old way of thinking, your old way of living, into a new way; you have to be reborn, you have to start over as a child.”  The Kingdom of Heaven turns our traditional values upside down.  The least become greatest, the first shall be last, and children – the “least of these” -- are held up as examples. 

 

Jesus tells us to be reborn, and like a child, have no regrets about the past and no worries about the future. 

 

Jesus tells us to be transformed and, like a child, don’t be afraid to confess what you’d rather hide; get it out in the open, and then let God’s loving arms wrap you in a forgiving embrace. 

 

Jesus tells us to begin a new way of living and like a child, be open and trusting.  When little Julia danced on the chancel last week, she was opening herself up to the movement of the Holy Spirit, and trusted that it was OK.  And it was.

 

Like a child might put a small hand in yours, God offers you a hand to guide you in life.  And God asks you to offer, in turn, a hand to someone else.

 

Like your toddler who risks getting hurt by taking those first tentative steps toward your outstretched arms, God offers everlasting arms to hold you up when you fall.  And God wants you to be arms of support to someone else.

 

Like a lost, crying child who is reunited with a relieved and rejoicing family, God celebrates when one of God’s children who has gone astray comes home.  And God commands us to reach out to all who are in need of a welcoming embrace, to all who need God’s love, forgiveness and acceptance.

 

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

 

When Jesus takes that child into his embrace, it is you that he holds; it is you that he welcomes; it is you that he accepts; it is you that he loves.  And it is you that he sends out to embrace, welcome, accept, and love others in his name.  Amen.

 

[1]  http://www.rnib.org.uk/xpedio/groups/public/documents/publicwebsite/public_keller.hcsp