A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — September 13, 2009
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Mark 9:42 - 10:12;  10:13-45

Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God
as a little child will never enter it. — Mark 10:15

James and John… came forward and said to Jesus,

your left, in your glory.” — Mark 10:35, 37

Sometimes the only way we ever learn is through repetition.

Something like 30 years ago I was driving from New Mexico to Michigan.  Now, a lot of you will remember that in the 1970s most highways had a 55 mph speed limit in response to gasoline shortages.  Gas prices had skyrocketed to more than a dollar per gallon.  It was really hard to stay at 55 on the open road, so when I saw the flashing red lights in my mirror while cruising on the Oklahoma Turnpike, I looked down to see I was doing about 70.  The result was a ticket, and the practice at that time in Oklahoma was for the officer to confiscate my driver’s license, which would be returned to me when I mailed in the fine.  The officer gave me a copy of the citation, which had a section he filled in to serve as a temporary license until then.  Well it was only four or five hours later in Missouri when it happened again—flashing red lights, look down, speedometer at 70.  I pull over.  The office comes to my window, but I don’t have a driver’s license to hand him, just this slip of paper, a ticket for doing 70 in a 55 zone.  The officer looks at it, shakes his head, and says, “We’re just not getting through to you, Mr. Jackson.”

 Reading in Mark 10, I wonder if Jesus’ might have said that same thing over and over to his disciples—“Guys, we’re just not getting through to you.”  People were bringing little children for Jesus to touch, but the disciples would have none of that.  They spoke sternly, “Stop that!  Don’t go bothering Jesus with these kids!”  Didn’t they hear a few days before when Jesus took a little child in his arms and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me”?  But now they’ve messed up again.  Jesus is indignant: “Guys, we’re just not getting through to you.”

 

These little kids—the kingdom of God belongs to them… or to those like them.  Remember that in Jesus’ time children represent the weakest, most vulnerable of all.  Not represent, they are the weakest, most vulnerable of all people.  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom…”  The kingdom belongs to the last, the least, the littlest, the lost.  “Truly I tell you,” Jesus says, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

The usual interpretation is that we must become like innocent, little children to enter the kingdom.  But the text is ambiguous in both the English and the original Greek—to “receive the kingdom as a little child does” or to “receive it like you would receive a little child.”  Even in the first case, it’s not about the innocence of children.  That’s a romanticized Victorian notion.  Rather it’s about the lack of power and status—letting go of such things and not clinging to all the money and stuff we accumulate trying to ensure our own security.  “One thing you lack,” says Jesus to the righteous man (for he is a good man), “Sell all you own and give the money to the poor.”  For months, Jesus has been taking his followers from their homeland to alien lands and back, so they might see what it is like to be on the bottom, to be in need, to trust more in God than in their own efforts.

Still I think the weight of the evidence lies with this being a repeat lesson about receiving the little children.  The kingdom belongs to them.  It is embodied in their vulnerability.  Jesus says to welcome them, and the kingdom will be received by us as we welcome and receive them.  If we cannot welcome and care for the children of our world, for the weakest and most vulnerable among us, how can we possible receive and participate in God’s kingdom in the world?  Unfortunately, despite living in the richest, most powerful nation on earth, we fail to provide adequately for our children.  No matter the issue, when push comes to shove children lose out.  Maybe it’s because they don’t have a vote or pot-loads of money for lobbyists, but the voices of children largely go unheard.  In an Op-Ed letter in yesterday’s Columbus Dispatch, the C.E.O. of Nationwide Children’s Hospital highlights this: “Children’s voices and concerns are largely left out of the national debate currently raging over health-care access, costs, and quality.  He notes the shortage of pediatric specialists because Medicaid pays 40% less than Medicare rates for pediatric specialty care.  Budget cuts almost always impact children more harshly.  Slots for preschool programs evaporate.  Failed bond issues decimate educational opportunities for kids.  The Children’s Defense Fund reports that economic downturns always impact children the worst.  Here we are in the midst of health care reform, yet public rhetoric seems more concerned with insurance company profits and making sure those of us with health insurance keep all the benefits we now have than with how to provide for the most vulnerable populations in the country.  The president promises that his reform plan will not pay for health care for illegal immigrants (forget the Biblical injunction to “love the alien as yourself”), and the news is about a representative calling him a liar rather than about what’s in store for the immigrant child who had no choice about being here but who is suffering from H1N1 flu and pneumonia.  Could it be that Jesus is looking on and shaking his head, “People, we’re just not getting through to you”?

James and John have been with Jesus almost from the beginning, and now they come to Jesus with a request, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  What an amazing thing to ask a teacher!  “Do for us whatever (!) we ask.”  They’re making sure to look out for themselves.  What they want is for Jesus to make sure when he comes in his glory that they will get to sit at the head table in the places of honor, on his right and on his left.  The best seats in the house, that’s all they want—along with all the prestige and authority that will rub off on them.  Weren’t they listening when Jesus sat with the twelve and said, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all”?  They should be asking to bear the serving trays.  Didn’t they hear Jesus say, “Many who are first will be last, and the last will be first”?  Jesus was just talking about suffering, humiliation, and death in Jerusalem.  But James and John can only think about what’s in it for them.  “Guys, we’re just not getting through to you.”

So once again Jesus gathers the twelve.  Once again here’s the basic lesson.  All who have ears to hear, listen!  “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”  Got that?  It never seems to stick.  Thank God Jesus doesn’t give up on the twelve… or on us, for that matter.  There can be a lot of James and John in us.  Our world is way more about power and privilege than service.  “Looking out for number one” and “what’s in it for me?” are cultural mandates drilled into us from birth.  We want what we want when we want it.  Much of business and all of advertising seems to be about increasing the number and size of our wants.  Too much of government seems to be about the rich and powerful using their money and influence to demand, “We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

The church is not immune.  It’s reflected in the all too common practice of “church shopping” and in churches planning programs to try to meet all potential wants and expectations.  It’s reflected in power struggles within and between denominations.  It’s reflected in some of the political activities of both the “religious right” and the “religious left.”  When I tell people I’m a pastor, one of the first questions they usually ask is “How large is your church?”  As if numbers are what it’s all about.  And as if it’s my church.  I’m sure Jesus stands among us, shaking his head, and saying, “People, we’re just not getting through to you.”

That police officer in Missouri after saying, “We’re just not getting through to you, Mr. Jackson” wrote me my second speeding ticket of the day.  He couldn’t take my driver’s license like the Oklahoma officer did.  Instead he had me follow him to the county seat, where I waited an hour before seeing the judge and paying my fine.  Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t haul us before the Judge.  Our lessons continue. 

 

Lord, get through to us.  Open our ears that we might hear.  Open our eyes that we might see.  Open our arms to welcome your little ones.  Open our hearts and minds that we might truly be your servants in the world.  Amen.