Before I came to Shepherd of the Valley to serve as your pastor in 2008, I had 2 Sundays off. Two weeks between the last church and this one. And I decided to take those free Sundays worshipping at two different congregations here in San Diego, getting just a taste of our Lutheran neighbors.
One week of those weeks was just Micah and I. He was a toddler, if you can believe that, and I always loved having him with me. We had all kinds of adventures -- just the two of us -- and this visit was another one...
I should say that this could have happened at any church: Like every parent, I’m trying to keep my child not-too-disruptive during worship, and I was feeling like we were doing an great job. Very little sound, happily distracted by some things I had brought for him. I was really enjoying the service, sermon, music...
But -- for whatever reason, that day -- midway through the service I started getting some really nasty looks from just one person...all it took. Those were confirmed (at the passing of the peace ironically) when she said with a scowl, “You know, the family service is at 10 o’clock.” I knew that going in, but had schedule conflict, and had confirmed with the pastor that “of course children are welcome at all of our services.”
Again, it doesn’t matter what church this was; any of our congregations have the potential for things like this. I know there’s a whole lot more to this particular congregation than my little experience, the pastor was mortified, but -- I gotta tell you -- if I didn’t think that, and know the pastor, and feel strongly that going church is about way more, I would have never set foot in there again...and maybe not even any church again. There’s your head. And there’s your heart. Words and actions hurt, right? My little boy is the center of my world (this was before Katie ;), and they just rejected the most precious thing in my life!
My main point: It wasn’t just unwelcoming to my child -- in fact, he was pretty oblivious to it -- this rejection was unwelcoming and hurtful to me. [pause]
What we’re really talking about here is hospitality...and the ripple effect of hospitality or in this case inhospitality.
The disciples are arguing about who’s best in our Ash Wednesday text here. I think it was just been a harmless banter, like how guys like to tease each other and puff themselves up, when they’re just shooting the breeze. I think they were just messing around, didn’t even think Jesus was listening. But, this time [wink], Jesus was.1
And rather than chastising them, he turns their goofing around into a serious lesson. How Lenten! Taking light, superficial times, and shifting things -- not down in a depressing way, not condemning fun necessarily -- but bringing some seriousness to the space. That’s Ash Wednesday; that’s Lent: In the midst of our light-hearted, carefree days and banter (Super Bowl, Mardi Gras, weather’s warming up, goofing around), in the midst of our shallowness, Jesus gets deep. Have you ever known people like that? I think we can take turns doing that...and it’s actually a gift. It can be seen as buzz-kill, or too serious, but sometimes we need to get serious. Oftentimes we are so light and shallow with our words and ideas, we need someone to guide us deeper, shifting the mood to more thoughtfulness and faithfulness. That’s a great image for Lent.
Jesus does this. Rather than chastising and shaming their goofing around, Jesus turns the mood more serious and offers a lesson...a lesson about hospitality. Taking a little child onto his lap as an illustration, he says: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name, welcomes me.” They needed that. We need that.
Whoever welcomes one such child in Jesus’ name, welcomes Jesus.
And whoever ignores, rejects or hurts a child, hurts Jesus even more. [pause] If it happened to me with little Micah, how much more can that hurt and rejection happen to Jesus?! [pause]
Now, whoever the child was that Jesus brought to the center was being used as an object lesson, which sounds kind of cold, but it was in fact the opposite. Children in the ancient world were really untouchables. Add ‘em to the list of all the other unclean people Jesus has been re-valuing and bringing to the center through Mark’s gospel. Children were another mouth to feed, little petri dishes of disease and defilement. In some ways, they were even lower than a slave because a slave had value, could do work or be sold or traded. Children were worthless. If they survived childhood, then we’re talking. But children were only the future; they were of no value in the present. We have to take our 21st century lenses off for a moment to understand just how radical and serious Jesus‘ lesson was. Nowadays, you get a lot of cred -- men get a lot of cred -- for kissing babies and changing diapers. Not so, in the 1st century.
And Jesus, of course, wasn’t only talking about offering hospitality to little ones. They were the illustration. He was talking about all the vulnerable and burdensome members of society. [pause]
So...what does this mean for our Lenten journeys? What does this mean for your own practices this season, as our light-heartedness and even carelessness takes a turn this Ash Wednesday, and an holy air of seriousness settles us down, drops us deeper?
A couple days ago, I posted on FB an article from Time Magazine entitled “What Pope Francis Wants You to Give Up For Lent”. And his challenge was for our Lenten practices become more serious...in that way, more outwardly focused.
He quotes the ancient Christian mystic John Chrysostom, who says: “No act of virtue can be great if it is not followed by advantage for others. So, no matter how much time you spend fasting, no matter how much you sleep on a hard floor and eat ashes and sigh continually, if you do no good to others, you do nothing great.” [pause] Pope Francis “Papa Francesco” goes on to suggest that we fast from indifference this Lent.
He writes, “Indifference to our neighbor and to God is a real temptation for us Christians...We end up being incapable of feeling compassion at the outcry of the poor, weeping for other people’s pain, and feeling a need to help them, as though all this were someone else’s responsibility and not our own. But when we fast from indifference then we end up feasting on love.” 2
Sisters and brothers in Christ, “fasting from indifference” is offering radical hospitality. When we welcome strangers, the vulnerable, the burdensome into our midst, when we eat with them (not just feed them while standing above them), when we actually sit down together, hold their babies, and listen to their stories, and even try to feel their hurt, when we see their plight as our problem too, not just someone else’s problem...when we fast from indifference and feast on hospitality, then we are welcoming Jesus himself. Our journey, our fast from indifference, should we choose to take it, begins here, today.
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And our honest confession and humility is the first step. Like AA: no more denial. Ash Wednesday sounds a whole lot like AA. We take responsibility for our hurtful actions of the past and we embark on a road through a valley of repentance.
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But the days of Lent which begin now, are really a time to be -- reflectively and hope-fully -- in our brokenness, knowing where the story ends...but spending a little more time on our chapter.
[slowly] And we are not alone as we fast and pray. AMEN.
1 Pr. Amy Allen, “Welcoming the Child.”
2 Time Magazine, “Pope Francis’ Guide to Lent: What You Should Give Up This Year,” Christopher J. Hale. 18 February 2016.
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