THE SOULS OF CHILDREN [R, 10-7-21]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

Last Sunday’s Gospel reading, according to the Common Lectionary, was Mark 10:2-16, which contains Jesus’ remonstrance to his church ushers about running children off, because folks can’t enter the kingdom of heaven unless their own souls are like those of little kids. In that passage, he also says divorce is wrong, but not only is half the congregation divorced these days, but half of the preachers are, too, so we make do with “It was because in Jesus’ day, a divorced woman had no place in society or a way of making a living, so it wasn’t really divorce he was against, but the economic structure, but that’s different now, so we can’t apply his words literally…”

All of which I think is accurate, but creates all sorts of thorny questions, like “Well, when and how DO we apply Jesus’ sayings legitimately?” I mean, how can we say “Gays are wrong because the Bible says so, when we don’t say divorce is wrong because the Bible says so?”

So, we preachers usually choose to ignore the divorce issue and go with his statement about “let the children come to me,” by doing a “children’s moment” in worship, and then sending the children away to “children’s church,” so they won’t bother us while we listen to the preacher talk about what Jesus said about letting the children stay.

Well, all this is too confusing for an old man. I thought I’d write something mildly homiletic, not too preachy, about it, but how? Why in the world did Mark put Jesus’ exclusion of divorce and inclusion of little kids together? Didn’t he know that would cause consternation for preachers?

Fortunately, “tradition” is part of the Wesleyan quadrilateral for deciding what is right and wrong--along with Bible, experience, and reason--so I’m going with tradition when I ignore the divorce issue and let the little children into this column…

At coffee time of my first Sunday as pastor at the Arcola, IL UMC, a four-year-old walked up to me, announced, “I’m Wobbiebigs,” and held out his arms. I grasped his wrists and twirled him in a circle. He smiled and went on his way. That happened every Sunday until his legs got too long and my arms got too short. I learned that my predecessor, Glen Bocox, had started that ritual with him. Wobbiebigs just assumed that was part of the job of the preacher, whoever had that position at the time.

At the all-church birthday party, when we sat at the table of our birth month, regardless of age or family, four-year-old Wobbiebigs and 84-year-old Art Harry would carry on long and involved conversations that the rest of us at the table did not understand. It was fascinating to watch the two of them listen so intently to each other.

I doubt that Dr. Robert Biggs. M.D. remembers Glen Bocox or Art Harry. He remembers me a little, because he was 12 when I retired. I suspect, however, that even if he does not remember how he was treated by Glen or Art or me, his soul remembers how he was treated in that church. He could expect to get a twirl from the preacher just by holding out his arms, he could expect that an old curmudgeon would pay attention to him when he talked. That’s good soul work with a child.

I have long felt that the main reason that old people exist is for doing soul work with children. Well, not just old people, but all Christians and churches. Soul work with children, that’s our job.

I remember once at a church conference, when there were not many women pastors yet, and clergy women felt like that had to justify their existence, a young woman pastor said that it was good to have women in the ministry because they were more sensitive to children. “I know the names of all the children in my church,” she announced proudly. I was stunned. I knew the names of all the children in my church, and my church had five times more kids than hers did. It never occurred to me that any pastor, male or female, would not know the names of all the children. Knowing their names was just the start of doing soul work with the kids, but it was a necessary start.

In the process of doing soul work with children, even if it is “only” praying for them, we find that our own souls are re-molded, so that they are like the souls of little children, fit to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Any time a child sticks out hands to you, grab them and start twirling.

John Robert McFarland