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The Third Reading Sermon by Brian Russo September 13, 2009, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill [2 Kings 22:1-10; Matthew 18:1-6] At the age of eight, when most of us are still trying to figure how to properly eat a Charleston Chew, Josiah ascended to the Kingship of Judah. Now isn’t that just astonishing? I mean, could you yourself imagine that? Now, I admit, I once thought I was a king, over my younger brother that is, but even I couldn’t possibly dream of lording over an entire realm of Travis’ (my brother’s name). For like perhaps most of you and your children, at eight, I was more concerned with the juvenile and the ridiculous, those things that are more or less “age-appropriate” in terms of child-like interests and behaviors. I mean really, my main goal in what would have been third grade, was how to time my run just right, so that I could propel the kickball just high enough, in hopes to impress my elementary school crush; who in the end was probably more concerned about the taste of her Bubbalicious running out prematurely. So I ask again, could you yourself imagine it – becoming King, in third grade, at eight? Could anybody? Well, actually, Yeshua ben Yosef could. And not for himself I mean, no not that at all, for Jesus blatantly told his disciples, as well as all of us here today, that the greatest, the Greatest, in the Kingdom of Heaven was and is that of a mere child! Not a man of power, a woman of wisdom, not a group of influence or a nation of riches… no, the greatest in all of the Kingdom is but an anonymous child! And because so few of us throughout history have adequately understood both Jesus and his words, we have frequently, continuously, and destructively misinterpreted the meaning of his proclamation, especially here in Matthew 18. In fact, when I first read this text back when I was a child in my own Sunday School class, I was taught a message which remained “true” to me for most of my life; a message that perhaps also rings true for you and your family this very morning. However, it is a message, an exegesis if you will, that I am now convinced to be highly misguided. What I mean to say then is this: when we have heard and read in verse 4 that a humble child is but the greatest in all of the Kingdom of Heaven, our minds quite naturally process through thought progressions which lead to the assumption that innocence and gentleness are to be the most cherished and sought after of all the Christian virtues. Do we not? Yet, if you carefully read these verses within the larger context of the gospel at large, you will notice that these attributes are not the qualities of a child, or rather the kind of disciple, that Jesus had in mind when he offered the appellation of the “greatest in the kingdom of Heaven.” And yes, even though it might produce a cheerful sermon for some preachers, that is to declare that Christ exalted blamelessness to such an extent of heavenliness, it would yet be incompatible with Matthew’s particular metaphorical teaching here in chapter 18; not to mention unrealistic for both the believer of old and of present. For let us reflect for a moment. How many children really are that innocent? Just think back to the days on the playground; to jokes uttered about the boy that just didn’t fit in; to teasing girls about their weight or missing the mark when trying to match their clothes… How many of us when considering the full breadth of our childhood could really call ourselves blameless? How many of us were gentle on all sides, innocent at every turn? How many of us then would forever fall short of the glory of the Kingdom of Heaven, of becoming great in the eyes of the manifested Divine? Wouldn’t we all? But isn’t this the point some of you wonder? After all, didn’t Jesus rebuke the disciples for bickering over such a question of pride? Aren’t we but dust? Aren’t we cautioned throughout scripture to think of ourselves as great, and conditioned to recognize that we are but fallen creatures, humble out of the womb, bent over, head down forever more? There are certainly many theologies, parishioners, and churches that advocate for such; that would build upon the first and push for a second reading of our text this morning. That is, that Christ calls us to take on the humility of a child, so that we become nothing more than simpletons of knowledge, never attempting to discover more than that which we are taught by our normative leaders. It is therefore this kind of reading of Matthew 18 that reminds me of an age when we were too young to cross the street on our own; when we held the hands of our mothers and fathers without any real sense of where we were going or what we were doing, but happy enough that we were simply going and doing and someone was there guiding. In fact, it is through this kind of reading of Matthew 18 that we have in turn distorted Christ’s message, starting a cycle in history which has bore witness to severe, and often times, rational and cultured criticisms of our religion and our faith. And when it comes to these critiques of Christianity, there is perhaps none more famous than that which was delivered by Friedrich Nietzsche (a name, surely, you never thought would be referenced from a pulpit on a Sunday morning). Despite his admitted bizarre and inflammatory philosophies, Nietzsche nonetheless presented Christianity with a challenge well worth considering. For you see, Nietzsche held the position that religion prevented humanity from realizing its true greatness. That the creeds and understandings constructed around humility and disinterest in the advancement of science and knowledge, insulated people from achieving their full potential. He cursed anyone who bought into an ideology assuming that our race was no better than the birds of the air or the mindless insects of the Earth. He coined the now infamous title, “superman” – or more appropriately, the ubermench – in an attempt to demonstrate everything that we are and will be capable of achieving, if only we directed our energies to making the most of this life, our resources, and our talents, instead of suppressing them in the name of blind humility and ignorance. Thus, for years and for many, Nietzsche has represented the prime adversary to the microcosm of Christian thought found within the aforementioned readings of our text this morning. That thought, which declares that humility, innocence and ignorance are but holy qualities of the practiced believer, I believe to be diametrically at opposition with what Christ had in mind when he called forth a child, and named such the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven. In fact, I will even go as far as to say that what Jesus had in mind is not very much different than the greatness Nietzsche was so interested in humanity achieving. And more, I like to imagine that somewhere across the annals of space-time, Yeshua and Friedrich, Friedrich and Yeshua have already sat down over cosmic coffee and politely talked out their obvious differences, misunderstandings, and similarities. And I draw this imagination, this fanciful wonder, from the third reading of our text this morning; one which I think not only offers an antidote to the readings of before, but one that also presents a more exact explanation of how a child could possibly be considered the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven. But before we do so, let us remember that Jesus himself was not necessarily a simple, gentle, or “playing-by-the-rules” man. In fact, Jesus was in many ways a revolutionary, who flipped the entire social order on its head. He was perceived as dangerous to many, and he took risks with his life that even his disciples did not fully understand. He was in many ways as unpredictable as a child, a quality which certainly espoused awe, wonder and fear to all those who either met or who had heard or him. Thus, in remembering that, let us also remember this: a child upon the incarnation of waking thought, is hardly innocent or blameless – it is not something to despair over when conjuring the beautiful face of your son or daughter; it is but a simple truth of this world, and one that Jesus understood all too well. You see, innocence is like time, the older we get, the less we have it. Rather then, the child that Jesus had in mind, the one he called over before the disciples, represented something far more nietzschean, something far more dynamic, something far more great. For unlike adults, regrets, limitations, and humility are as foreign to a child’s understanding as are mutual bonds and astrophysics. Barring illness or genetic deformity, children are full of wonder and potential, and live in a world as if there weren’t any rules. They have little to no conception of risk-reward management techniques, and are happily liberated from that heavy burden we carry around called emotional baggage. No, it is not until the glacier of adulthood encroaches that the uninhibited dreamer of our childhood disappears into the tired existence of outward responsibility that you and I know all too well. To paraphrase one of my favorite celebrities, Thom Yorke, “[as adults] we get use to our lifestyle, and we don’t want to take any risks – it’s not worth it. We’ve got all of this baggage that we’re carrying around with us everywhere, and the more things we have, the more we get to attached to, the less we want to let go, and the less risks we take.” But that is precisely what Christ was and is calling his disciples to do; to become great like children is to sense as if the world is at our fingertips, to believe that we are capable of changing ourselves as well as our environment; to let go and to adapt; to dream and to live without fear of meeting own crosses; and yes, even to channel the philosophy of Nietzsche in becoming our own ubermench and achieving all that we are capable of, while marrying it to a faith which takes into the highest of considerations the welfare of others. Now, can you just imagine it? Can you conjure the world we could create, if nowhere else than right here in this sanctuary? Could you imagine the reformation we could spark, the work we could do, the success we could secure for all of the generations to come, if only we reversed time and began today, on September 13th, 2009 -- Church Work Day -- and became like children, full of life and possibilities… And might I add, it’s not as if we are bereft of example. After all, Josiah did all this and more beginning at eight. At eight! Amen. |