If we're not on our children's side, we're on the wrong side.
"Whoever receives one such child in My Name, receives Me"
Mark 9:37
A small boy was being bullied by a bigger fellow. Undaunted, the little fellow drew a line in the dirt with his foot and issued a challenge. "I dare you to cross that line," he said. The bully immediately stepped over the line. "Okay," said the small boy, "now you're on my side."
Jesus is telling us in today's Gospel that if we adults are not on the children's side, we're on the wrong side.
When you affirm a young person you are delivering a message that says, "I'm for you unconditionally. I like who you are. I'm on your side." And taking his or her cue from you, the young person learns to become self-affirming: "I'm okay. I'm worthwhile. I'm likable. I'm loveable. I'm capable."
Child psychologists tell us that we need to be more aware of our attitude toward children. If we're glad to be with them our delight will register with them. If we're unhappy being with them, our displeasure will register with them. Either way, it makes a difference in their lives--and we must never forget that.
In a "Charlie Brown" cartoon, little Linus, looking very forlorn, asks Lucy, "Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?" Lucy, looking very self-righteous, replies, "I just think I have a knack for seeing other people's faults." Linus turns indignant. "What about your own faults?" he asks. "I have a knack for overlooking them," says Lucy.
Everywhere, one sees parents who develop so great a knack for criticizing their children that it becomes part of their lifestyle--an ongoing, day-in-and-day-out way of relating to their children. In so doing, they become child abusers without even realizing it. Not only are verbally abusive parents inflicting damage on their children so devastating that it may last a lifetime, they also are training their children to become verbal abusers when they become parents.
There is an episode in Mark's Gospel in which the people are bringing their children to Jesus "that He might touch them." The disciples try to keep the kids from bothering Jesus. But when Jesus sees this, he becomes indignant. "Let the children come to Me," He commands, "do not hinder them; for to such belongs the Kingdom of God. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it" (Mk. 10:13-15). Jesus' words confront us with a tremendous Christian paradox: in order to relate to children as God wants us to (in order to enter into the Kingdom of God, in this sense), we ourselves must behave like children.
It reminds us that all too often we adults forget what it's like to be a child, to live in a child's world, to walk in a child's shoes. And Jesus is telling us that if we want to live under God's Rule, if we want to enter into God's Kingdom, we must not only remember what it's like to be a child, we must again be childlike. Again, in Jesus' own words, "Let the children come to Me...for to such belongs the Kingdom of God."
Jesus' message to us is that the key to our spiritual health--our salvation, really--lies in the childlike aspect of our human consciousness. "And He took a child and put him in the midst of them; and taking him in His arms, He said to them, 'Whoever receives one such child in My Name, receives Me'" (Mk. 9:37). We need to receive the children. We need to receive not only the children around us, but also the child within us: the trusting child; the child full of wonder and awe and innocent delight with each new discovery of some aspect of God's glorious creation; the child who measures success not on the level of station, status or wealth, but on the level of life-affirming, unconditional love.
"Whoever receives one such child in My Name receives Me." Here is a true story of a man who did just that:
I spent most of my high-school days in the principal's office being disciplined for creating problems in class. My family life was a mess and I worked out my frustrations in the classroom. I got a reputation as a troublemaker.
As punishment for some of my anti-social behavior, I was given work detail after school. The school janitor, Ernie, was a short, stocky man who spoke English with a heavy accent. He worked quickly and demanded that I do the same--all the time peppering me with questions about my interests and ambitions.
At the end of my forced week's work, Ernie asked me if I was interested in a part-time job. I couldn't believe anyone was willing to hire me, but quickly said yes.
Under Ernie's direction, I worked after school every day for two hours. He talked to me as a friend and complimented each task I completed. Gradually I began to like myself better and trips to the discipline office grew less frequent.
I graduated at 18 and enlisted in the service. Ernie came down to the bus station to give me my final pay and a bear hug for good luck.
I loved Ernie, but it wasn't until many years later that I learned just how special he really was. My part-time job had been Ernie's invention and my pay had come out of his meager earnings. No School Board had budgeted extra money. Ernie had. The stock man with the big heart paid to save a troubled kid--and it worked.2
Big-hearted Ernie had taken sides. The story, from beginning to end, places Ernie on that troubled kid's side. Clearly, Ernie was on the right side. Shouldn't we all be on that side?
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