Scripture can be found here and here…
Young families all over this nation marked an important occasion about ten days ago. One mom said it this way:
“Today, for the first time in 547 days, my child is in someone else’s care for a while.”
She posted that on Twitter with a photo of her daughter climbing into a school bus.
Families with young children are among the unsung heroes of these past eighteen months. Many of them had to do a huge and sudden pivot from working their usual day jobs to teaching their children at home, with or without the assistance of an online teacher, with or without the knowledge that comes with a degree in education, with or without the support of another parent, or maybe grandparents.
I can’t tell you how many times I said to a young parent—I’m in awe of you. I’m not sure I could have done what you’ve done. And every single time they came back to me with some version of, “You’d have done it, because you wouldn’t have had any other choice.” And they’re right.
Even in regular, non-Covid time, families with small people at home organize their lives around the children, whether that has to do with day care or school drop-off and pick-up, bus schedules, sports schedules, piano lessons, dental appointments… The life of a parent is a life of prioritizing someone else for at least 18 years, or until they can take care of themselves, and even then—the connection, concern, and care continue. Children are precious to us.
A child shows up in our reading from Mark’s gospel this morning, but not until after Jesus gets wind of a fight in the ranks. Jesus and the disciples have been on the road, not a great place to have a dispute (especially if your job is sharing the Good News about peace, love, and understanding). Once they reach Capernaum, home base for many of them, they settle in a house, and Jesus wants to know the deal. What are you fighting about?, he asks. And then it comes out, but only by virtue of their mortified silence. They have been arguing with one another about who is the greatest.
The disciples seem to have bought into the wisdom of the world: status matters. So much so that it causes strife in the ranks of this traveling, healing rabbi who has drafted them into service of God’s Good News.
Our passage from the letter of James seems to indicate that he’s familiar with disputes over what he calls “bitter envy and selfish ambition.” He writes,
Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. And this, you might guess, is another kind of wisdom altogether.
James is admonishing his readers to let their lives be gentle—gentleness born of wisdom. But what a challenge, if your heart is full of envy, or overflowing with selfish ambition. It won’t be easy.
To be clear, and to answer a question that came up in Bible study this week, not all ambition is bad. You can have an ambition to get an education, or to learn a trade, or to start a business. These things don’t have to include envy and bitterness by default. But ambition can become toxic if it pits us against one another. I entered college with the intention of going to medical school. There were three hundred of us at the first meeting of those who registered as pre-med students. And… you’ve seen this in a movie, I feel sure… a professor stood in front of us and said, “Look at the person to your right; now look at the person to your left. In four years, only one of you will still be in this program.” So, Welcome to Boston College, two-thirds of you will be toast!
I think the intention was to alert us to how rigorous a program it was. But the result, at least for some, was to see other students as their enemies, people to be bested, people who might well stand in their way on that determined march to becoming a doctor.
I don’t recommend it. It’s an awful way to approach your education, and a worse way to approach your life. Something like this seems to have been what Jesus was up against. He’s just found out that the people who have been listening to him preach the Good News all over Galilee and beyond are angling for priority, playing mind games with each other, laying claim to thrones and positions and prestige. And none of this has anything to do with the Good News God has commissioned them all to proclaim.
So Jesus sits the twelve down and says, Whoever wants to be first has got to be last of all. The servant of all. And then he finds a kid. A child. You know, the ones around whom adults have to organize their lives. The ones who don’t bring in a paycheck, or add to the bottom line, or pull their weight in the family system. The ones who have all their learning, all their experience, and all their growth and, I’m sorry, but this is how the ancient world saw it, all their value ahead of them. If they make it.
I notice that Mark is very careful not to indicate whether the child is a boy or a girl. He uses gender-neutral language, and our translation reflects that. So, we don’t even know if the child is anticipated to have more worth, in the sense of being a wage-earner, a tradesman, a breadwinner, or if the child is expected to cost the family a dowry when they marry. This is a generic child. Jesus picks the child up and puts the child right smack in the center of them, and holds the child in his arms, and says, Here’s what greatness is. Here’s what the kingdom of God is: welcoming one child in my name. Then I’ll know you’ve really welcomed me. Then God will know you’ve really welcomed the kingdom.
This is another kind of wisdom entirely. This is the wisdom that James describes as pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits.
There’s an old story I’ve just discovered, about student who goes to a famous rabbi to ask a question. “Rabbi,” they said, “in the old days there were people who could see God. Why is it that nobody sees God these days?” The rabbi answers, “My child, these days nobody can stoop so low.” The disciples’ ambition has confused them. They think wisdom is getting to be Jesus’ second in command in the new government he’s going to build, or chief advisor to the king he’s going to be. But Jesus will show up as the insignificant child they don’t even notice as they’re walking by. Jesus will be the person who has nothing to eat, the person in prison, the person at the border. The higher they set their sights for personal advancement, the harder it will be for them to see the places where God is really calling them: right there, on the ground, in need of the love God wants them to pour out.
Let’s experiment with a kind of wisdom that invites us to be peacemakers, to be gentle with one another. Let’s investigate a kind of wisdom that asks whether we’re willing to let go of being the loudest voice in the room, which makes room for others. Let’s dream about living into a kind of wisdom that helps us to draw closer to God, who is longing to draw closer to us.
Thanks be to God. Amen.