All Saints’, Dorval
September 19, 2021
Peter’s commissioning as our pastoral intern on Sunday, Sept. 19
But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him. … He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”
It’s a good thing that Jesus tells the disciples that children are to be welcomed and embraced, because in this passage from Mark’s gospel they’re acting kind of like petulant children, arguing about who is the greatest!
On the other hand, small children – at least those who have been well cared for and not shamed or scolded for asking questions – actually often have an advantage over adults in that they’re not embarrassed to admit that they don’t know something. The disciples are afraid to ask Jesus what he means about being betrayed and killed (and with some reason, because when Simon Peter asked in last week’s passage, he got called Satan).
But Jesus, by placing the child in their midst, reassures them that there is space in the kingdom of heaven for the one who doesn’t know, for the one who is still figuring it out, for the one who has no idea what they’re doing.
This is a reassuring message on the day we commission a new Pastoral Intern (seminarian, ministry student, priest-in-training – whatever terminology you want to use!). It’s very possible that Peter Lekx is not as slow a learner as I am, but I know that for me, it’s only been a few years since I felt like I had the faintest idea what I was doing – it took me most of a decade of ordained ministry, not to mention an entire lifetime in the church, to feel like I had gotten there.
And if I do ever start to feel that I have actually got things all figured out, I hope that I will have the humility to realize that that is highly unlikely! It helps that I am constantly being presented with new experiences in which I do, in fact, have no idea what I’m doing – such as supervising my first intern!
Admitting that we don’t know what we’re doing is quite often uncomfortable, but it has the huge advantage of being fundamentally true to reality and to our experience, and not requiring us to try to fake it and fool each other – and compete for “who can be the greatest”. It leaves us where Jesus wants us to be, in a posture of mutual deference and service. And most importantly, it leaves room for God to work.
In the wonderful conversation in my colleague group this week about this passage, my wise friend Naomi Miller remarked that if we’re going to welcome children, the one thing that that guarantees is a certain level of chaos – and if there’s no room in your life, in your family, in your church, in your expectations, for chaos, you’re going to miss out on a whole lot of what God is doing.
Peter Lekx certainly has enough children in his life to keep him on his toes, and rooted in the humility that comes with existing in the midst of chaos. I pray that in our two years together, all of us – Peter, myself, his Lay Committee and the congregation as a whole – will rejoice in starting from a place of holy cluelessness, and be open to the learning that we will do together, to the reality of each other’s experience, and to the no-doubt surprising things that God will do among us and through us.
Today’s Gospel invites us to ask: what are the questions that we are afraid to ask? And what would be the consequences if we did actually ask them? Maybe Jesus would get mad at us and say, “Get behind me, Satan” – but maybe that’s not the end of the world? After all, Jesus loved Simon Peter no less after that confrontation than he did before, nor did it stop him from becoming the first among the apostles after the Resurrection.
And today’s Gospel also invites us to stop worrying about who is the greatest – or, indeed, about who can be most performatively humble and servant-like – and simply focus instead on the human being in front of us, whether adult or child, friend or stranger.
When it comes to God and faith, I have no idea what I’m doing. Neither does our intern – though we pray he’ll know a little more after his time with us! Neither do any of you. And that’s fine; that’s the way it should be. That leaves room for God’s holy chaos, for unexpected surprises and wonderful discoveries. I can’t wait to see what these two years bring!
Amen.
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