We are still mining a section of Mark 9 comprised of a string of short scenes
with a couple of overlapping themes. Having considered the theme of authentic power a couple of weeks back, we're on to this business of causing another person to sin. Although it may be tempting to write this concept off and stand on the principle that all people have personal responsibility for their own actions, there is also truth to the statement that none of our decisions take place in a vacuum. Our actions have an influence on the people around us, and part of personal responsibility includes an appreciation for how what we do affects others.
The author of the gospel of Mark places the warnings about putting stumbling blocks in front of people quickly on the heels of using a child as an example, although the final scene of this chapter goes further than just talking about how people treat children. Still, what we learn as children sticks with us for a long time. As children, we make vows about how we must be and what we must do without even realizing that we're making vows. We also develop ideas about what or who we should be afraid of (or even hate) when we are children, when we are too young to even question why. So, it is especially important for adults to be conscientious about what we teach the children in our lives. Children cannot be held responsible for their beliefs about themselves, other people, or reality, but when children grow into adults, we expect them to suddenly be able to take responsibility for themselves. If we have filled the minds of the children in our lives with fear, what kind of adults do we expect them to be?
Children are not the only people susceptible to influence, though. Influential messages bombard us all the time in the form of advertising, political commentaries on television or radio, and less blatantly through just about every form of entertainment. We are responsible for aligning our beliefs and actions with our deep guiding principles rather than the influence of a paid angry or attractive spokesperson, but that isn't always an easy feat. We are also responsible for recognizing how our beliefs and actions influence adults around us. Bullying people into agreement, arguing from a position of half-informed righteous indignation, or promoting an identity of victimhood all come from fear. When we become afraid or anxious, and we lose our connection to our deepest selves, our influence on other people can be harmful. To make matters worse, our fear or anxiety can make us less aware of the impact we're having. Even though we can hold an expectation that other people should be emotionally mature and centered, and even though we aren't ultimately responsible for other people's behavior, it's better for us to empower other people to live based on their principles than it is for us to foster fear.
One interpretation of this scene in Mark is that the afterlife was seen to involve a continued physical existence. The author of the gospel of Mark is possibly saying that it's better to enter into a blessed afterlife maimed than to suffer in one's entirety. The gospels don't actually say much about hell, though, and even this passage is lacking much of its reference to hell in the earliest copies of the text. Plus, throughout the gospel narratives, the authors suggest (through words attributed to Jesus) that the kingdom of God (or the kingdom of Heaven, depending on who's writing) are not future-tense possibilities, but are present realities. Jesus is quoted as saying, "The kingdom of God is at hand," meaning, it's right here and now. So, perhaps the author of Mark is suggesting something else when he proposes mutilating oneself and entering the kingdom of God with a few parts missing.
If the kingdom of God is at hand, presently accessible to those willing to be a part of it, then it must not be a physical location. Perhaps as some have suggested, heaven is a state of mind -- a way of being. If so, then what is sin? And how can one's hand or eye or foot cause one to sin? Many people have pointed out that sin is an old archery term that essentially means, "to miss the mark." Some people would suggest that God sets the mark, but this is problematic, given that the supposed moral bull's eye established in the Hebrew Scriptures consists of a list of prohibitions that were impossible to keep, even for the ancient Israelites who invented it. If one considers Jesus to be a divine figure, a different mark was established in the gospels: love. Jesus' one big commandment was to love, and although that may be tricky to navigate in some situations, it's not a bad bull's eye for life. For people like myself, who don't recognize any superhuman divine beings, the bull's eye comes from deep guiding principles.
Sin, then, is what shifts our focus, the action that stems from something other than our guiding principles or the noblest form of love. Various believers might point to specific behaviors that constitute sin, but the problem is not really the behaviors. The problem is what lies at the root of the behaviors. As you may already have guessed, I believe that fear is what lies at the root of what the gospel writers call sin. When we allow fear to govern us, we forget about love or guiding principles and shift away from the mark we've set for who we want to be in the world. We let fear about ourselves, other people, or reality prompt our actions rather than bringing our most authentic selves forward. I'm not keen on what the church has done with the concept of sin, because it has become a weapon of judgment and condemnation wielded by people who have no more reason than anyone else to feel righteous. Fear is something that affects all people, but we are also all capable of dismantling fear if we choose to do so.
The point, then, is that your hand can't cause you to miss the mark. If you steal something with your hand or strike someone with your fist, your hand doesn't make you do those things. The fear within you that clouded over your deep guiding principles fueled those actions.
Your foot can't cause you to miss the mark. If you step on someone as you ascend whatever ladder of success you're climbing or turn around when you see an opportunity to help someone less fortunate, your foot doesn't make you do those things. The fear within you that clouded over your compassion for and connection to other human beings fueled those actions.
Your eye can't cause you to miss the mark. If you see other people as objects to be manipulated or you remain willfully blind to how your actions harm the people around you, your eye doesn't make you do those things. The fear within you that clouded over your capacity for love fueled those actions.
So, if we're going to amputate the cause of our "sin," our physical body isn't what we need to operate on. We need to amputate our fear.
Since Spencer Johnson and Sheryl Sandberg made it famous, the question has often been asked, but bears repeating:
What would you do if you weren't afraid?
I don't know what you're afraid of. You may fear scarcity -- that there isn't enough _________ for you and everyone else, so you have to protect what you have and do everything you can to get what you deserve. You may fear that, deep down, you are selfish or worthless at your core -- that you have to do everything you possibly can to prove how generous and worthwhile you are, including pleasing everybody around you, even at the expense of your own well-being. You may fear people of a certain ethnicity, religion, or sexual identity. You may fear that you are insignificant. Anything you fear -- especially irrationally -- can distract you from what actually matters most to you. Fear can prompt you to behave in ways that simply don't line up with who you most want to be in the world. Staying immersed in our irrational fears and expecting to be principled or loving people is like putting on a concrete overcoat and expecting to be able to swim. Dismantling our irrational fears opens the way for our guiding principles to be lived out more intentionally.
I'll bet you just glossed over it a paragraph back. Think about it:
What would you do if you weren't afraid?
What would you create?
What would you stand for?
How would you be more authentically yourself more of the time?
The author of Mark includes a few sentences about salt at the end of this scene. Many people would suggest that salt symbolized purity for a great many ancient religions. If that's what salt means in this instance, the author of Mark is saying, "Have purity in yourselves, and be at peace with one another." When we live with integrity (or purity) to our deep guiding principles, we can be more connected with the people around us -- and even with people far away from us. Fear is not wise or just or compassionate or even honest. It's hard to live at peace with people -- even people about whom we care deeply -- if we keep fear in the driver's seat. If we recognize our ability to live with integrity by meaningful guiding principles, we can be at peace with others, because we trust our deepest, most noble selves.
So, with or without any religious convictions about Jesus' identity, the words of this section of the gospel of Mark can prompt us to have some conviction about our own identities. We do not need to be people defined by fear. We can be people defined by a deeper sense of truth, beauty, and creativity inherent to all human beings. We can be people who exhibit justice and compassion without suspicion or obligation. We can be people defined by vulnerable, authentic love. Some might call that a glimpse of the kingdom of God. Some might just call it being fully human.
What will you do as a capable, authentic, beautiful, creative human being?
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Mark 9: Authentic Power
The next portion of Mark 9 is a string of short scenes with a couple of overlapping themes. As such, they are probably best approached over two weeks rather than trying to fit everything into one entry. We'll look first at the scenes, and then at how the authors of Matthew and Luke treat them, and finally we'll consider the argument about greatness. Next week, we'll look closer at what it means to "cause another person to sin," especially in a more humanist context that doesn't grant validity to the idea of sinfulness.
Both the gospel of Matthew and the gospel of Luke include a version of the first scene, in which the disciples argue about which of them will be in positions of authority when the Romans are overthrown and a new world order is established by their revolutionary leader. The response recorded indicates that they have some misconceptions about the new measure of leadership that is being established. This scene is followed by what appears to be a threat to Jesus' brand, as another miracle worker is seen performing some wondrous deeds without the direct approval of Jesus or his followers. The gospel of Matthew doesn't represent this scene, but the author of Luke included a truncated version of it. Once again, the response to the disciples' indignation is a revision to their assumptions about authority.
In the gospel of Matthew, the final scene in this grouping is dovetailed into the discussion of leadership, with the symbolic child being the bridge between the two passages. The author of Luke includes an abbreviated version of the teaching, separated from the scenes about leadership and authority. This scene suggests that the people who promote wrongdoing (or wrong thinking) in others will suffer for it, with symbolism suggesting that the author had an impression that individuals would have some kind of physical bodies in the afterlife.
This is also one of the passages that has given us a perspective of hell as a fiery place, but the actual word used here (Gehenna) refers to a specific place, also called the Valley of the Son of Hinnom in the Old Testament. It was here that Moloch and Ba'al worshipers (some of whom were Israelites) are said to have sacrificed their children to the fire. Since no mass graves of children's bones have been discovered anywhere in the area, many archaeologists and scholars have concluded that the symbolic sacrifices were something more akin to child dedications involving fire. Obviously, upstanding Jewish citizens would disapprove of parents dedicating children to a foreign god, and they would have had obvious reasons for equating such dedication as tantamount to sacrificing the child's spiritual future. The author of Mark puts clever words in Jesus' mouth, suggesting that anyone who is a negative spiritual influence on a child will be punished not just by being sacrificed to a fire, but by a fire that never quits consuming -- a darkly ironic Gehenna that is never quenched. We'll return to this passage next week, but it's obvious that the author of Matthew connects it with the earlier discussion of who deserves to be in positions of power.
We don't have to try very hard to find modern day parallels to the two earlier scenes in this passage. Sometimes we become quite preoccupied with what our position is, in the microcosms of our life as well as in a broader sense. We find ways to measure our level of power, whether in terms of the titles bestowed upon us, the amount of money we have, the number of friends (or "friends") we have in our networks, or some other scale that represents power to us. Some people are impressed by those who seem to have an air of authority, people who just exude self-confidence or seem to have an unshakably high opinion of themselves. The lesson expressed through Jesus in this passage suggests that all of this is valueless. These things are illusions that have no real bearing on what matters most. More important than how much apparent power one wields is how well one serves, particularly how well one serves those who are unable to do anything in terms of compensation.
A child is used as a powerful example here of the kinds of relationships that most reflect how well any of us understand what is most important. A child cannot pay us for our actions. A child cannot award titles or promotions. A child can't even vote in the next election. A child can do very little to increase our apparent power. Yet, if we are truly aware of ourselves -- if we are adept at dismantling fears about scarcity and insignificance, if we practice living with integrity by guiding principles that reflect something deeper than titles and dollar signs -- then we will likely be paying attention more to what we can do for other people than we will what other people can do for us. It won't matter that a person will be unable to offer us anything for our efforts (including a chance to have our picture in the paper and a headline with the word "Hero"). What will matter is that we have an opportunity to act with integrity to a deeply held value.
When we start thinking in terms of our role in the pecking order, or our position in a hierarchy, we can start determining personal value (of ourselves and of others) based on superficial details. Our value as human beings is not based on apparent power. It's an inherent trait that all human beings have in common. Chains of command and hierarchies of responsibility have their usefulness, but their benefits do not include knowing a person's value based on place within a hierarchy. People who wield authority have greater responsibility (as is indicated by the discussion about diving suits fitted with millstones), but they do not have greater value as human beings.
We determine how our human capability will be expressed in our lives. If we release our need to be seen as powerful, our actual capability will have more of a chance to shine through with authenticity. Our fears about there not being enough respect or love or admiration to go around can cloud our thinking on this to some extent, but we really don't know what the world would look like if everyone stopped worrying and started living out of their deepest guiding principles. If everyone stopped being afraid and just loved, we might all look pretty powerful. The truth is that we all are powerful, and we don't need to prove it to anyone. We are all capable of incredible acts of love and creativity. We are all capable of being peacemakers. We are all capable of profound feats of connection. We are all capable of seeing the inherent worth in people who seem to be doing their very best to keep it hidden.
The disciples in the story were concerned (probably even angry) because someone else was stealing their schtick. You've probably already seen through this as more fear of scarcity being expressed. There were then, as there are now, plenty of hurting people to go around. The point behind helping people was not then, as it need not be now, a chance to make a name for oneself, or an opportunity to get appointed to a position of authority, or a way to get ahead financially. The point behind helping people was and is to help people. The point behind living with integrity and intentionality was and is to live with integrity and intentionality. Being authentic and exercising one's full capability is the reward; our relationships with other people are just the context in which we get to be authentic and capable.
There was a book a while back with a title suggesting that if we do what we are passionate about -- what "feeds our soul" some might say -- then financial well being will come automatically. The content of the book revealed something different, that if we do what we love, then the satisfaction of doing what we love will follow. That's potentially a discouraging message to people who are caught up (like the disciples were in these scenes) with concerns about apparent power, market share, and personal brand management. The message of these scenes is not intended to be discouraging at all, though. The author of Mark is conveying that if we recognize what really matters to us and we intentionally live like those things really matter to us, we will be noticed by all the people we need to be noticed by and we will have all of the things we need to be happy.
Honestly, we may not have all of the wealth or apparent power that we want, or all that will allow our every whim to be entertained. The point, though, is that we don't get any closer to living by our deepest guiding principles by prioritizing wealth or wielding power over others. In other words, we've allowed our standards to become skewed toward something artificial and superficial. Most likely, we've done this because looking inward at what really matters most to us is scary at some level. Some people are afraid that they won't find much there at all if they look within, and others are afraid that if they are honest about their deepest guiding principles, their entire life will have to change. Maybe it will. The message of these scenes in Mark is that it will be worth it: Realize what really matters. Change your standards. Change your life -- and quite possibly the lives of everyone around you. It's an image of authentic power that any of us can choose to embrace.
Both the gospel of Matthew and the gospel of Luke include a version of the first scene, in which the disciples argue about which of them will be in positions of authority when the Romans are overthrown and a new world order is established by their revolutionary leader. The response recorded indicates that they have some misconceptions about the new measure of leadership that is being established. This scene is followed by what appears to be a threat to Jesus' brand, as another miracle worker is seen performing some wondrous deeds without the direct approval of Jesus or his followers. The gospel of Matthew doesn't represent this scene, but the author of Luke included a truncated version of it. Once again, the response to the disciples' indignation is a revision to their assumptions about authority.
In the gospel of Matthew, the final scene in this grouping is dovetailed into the discussion of leadership, with the symbolic child being the bridge between the two passages. The author of Luke includes an abbreviated version of the teaching, separated from the scenes about leadership and authority. This scene suggests that the people who promote wrongdoing (or wrong thinking) in others will suffer for it, with symbolism suggesting that the author had an impression that individuals would have some kind of physical bodies in the afterlife.
This is also one of the passages that has given us a perspective of hell as a fiery place, but the actual word used here (Gehenna) refers to a specific place, also called the Valley of the Son of Hinnom in the Old Testament. It was here that Moloch and Ba'al worshipers (some of whom were Israelites) are said to have sacrificed their children to the fire. Since no mass graves of children's bones have been discovered anywhere in the area, many archaeologists and scholars have concluded that the symbolic sacrifices were something more akin to child dedications involving fire. Obviously, upstanding Jewish citizens would disapprove of parents dedicating children to a foreign god, and they would have had obvious reasons for equating such dedication as tantamount to sacrificing the child's spiritual future. The author of Mark puts clever words in Jesus' mouth, suggesting that anyone who is a negative spiritual influence on a child will be punished not just by being sacrificed to a fire, but by a fire that never quits consuming -- a darkly ironic Gehenna that is never quenched. We'll return to this passage next week, but it's obvious that the author of Matthew connects it with the earlier discussion of who deserves to be in positions of power.
We don't have to try very hard to find modern day parallels to the two earlier scenes in this passage. Sometimes we become quite preoccupied with what our position is, in the microcosms of our life as well as in a broader sense. We find ways to measure our level of power, whether in terms of the titles bestowed upon us, the amount of money we have, the number of friends (or "friends") we have in our networks, or some other scale that represents power to us. Some people are impressed by those who seem to have an air of authority, people who just exude self-confidence or seem to have an unshakably high opinion of themselves. The lesson expressed through Jesus in this passage suggests that all of this is valueless. These things are illusions that have no real bearing on what matters most. More important than how much apparent power one wields is how well one serves, particularly how well one serves those who are unable to do anything in terms of compensation.
A child is used as a powerful example here of the kinds of relationships that most reflect how well any of us understand what is most important. A child cannot pay us for our actions. A child cannot award titles or promotions. A child can't even vote in the next election. A child can do very little to increase our apparent power. Yet, if we are truly aware of ourselves -- if we are adept at dismantling fears about scarcity and insignificance, if we practice living with integrity by guiding principles that reflect something deeper than titles and dollar signs -- then we will likely be paying attention more to what we can do for other people than we will what other people can do for us. It won't matter that a person will be unable to offer us anything for our efforts (including a chance to have our picture in the paper and a headline with the word "Hero"). What will matter is that we have an opportunity to act with integrity to a deeply held value.
When we start thinking in terms of our role in the pecking order, or our position in a hierarchy, we can start determining personal value (of ourselves and of others) based on superficial details. Our value as human beings is not based on apparent power. It's an inherent trait that all human beings have in common. Chains of command and hierarchies of responsibility have their usefulness, but their benefits do not include knowing a person's value based on place within a hierarchy. People who wield authority have greater responsibility (as is indicated by the discussion about diving suits fitted with millstones), but they do not have greater value as human beings.
We determine how our human capability will be expressed in our lives. If we release our need to be seen as powerful, our actual capability will have more of a chance to shine through with authenticity. Our fears about there not being enough respect or love or admiration to go around can cloud our thinking on this to some extent, but we really don't know what the world would look like if everyone stopped worrying and started living out of their deepest guiding principles. If everyone stopped being afraid and just loved, we might all look pretty powerful. The truth is that we all are powerful, and we don't need to prove it to anyone. We are all capable of incredible acts of love and creativity. We are all capable of being peacemakers. We are all capable of profound feats of connection. We are all capable of seeing the inherent worth in people who seem to be doing their very best to keep it hidden.
The disciples in the story were concerned (probably even angry) because someone else was stealing their schtick. You've probably already seen through this as more fear of scarcity being expressed. There were then, as there are now, plenty of hurting people to go around. The point behind helping people was not then, as it need not be now, a chance to make a name for oneself, or an opportunity to get appointed to a position of authority, or a way to get ahead financially. The point behind helping people was and is to help people. The point behind living with integrity and intentionality was and is to live with integrity and intentionality. Being authentic and exercising one's full capability is the reward; our relationships with other people are just the context in which we get to be authentic and capable.
There was a book a while back with a title suggesting that if we do what we are passionate about -- what "feeds our soul" some might say -- then financial well being will come automatically. The content of the book revealed something different, that if we do what we love, then the satisfaction of doing what we love will follow. That's potentially a discouraging message to people who are caught up (like the disciples were in these scenes) with concerns about apparent power, market share, and personal brand management. The message of these scenes is not intended to be discouraging at all, though. The author of Mark is conveying that if we recognize what really matters to us and we intentionally live like those things really matter to us, we will be noticed by all the people we need to be noticed by and we will have all of the things we need to be happy.
Honestly, we may not have all of the wealth or apparent power that we want, or all that will allow our every whim to be entertained. The point, though, is that we don't get any closer to living by our deepest guiding principles by prioritizing wealth or wielding power over others. In other words, we've allowed our standards to become skewed toward something artificial and superficial. Most likely, we've done this because looking inward at what really matters most to us is scary at some level. Some people are afraid that they won't find much there at all if they look within, and others are afraid that if they are honest about their deepest guiding principles, their entire life will have to change. Maybe it will. The message of these scenes in Mark is that it will be worth it: Realize what really matters. Change your standards. Change your life -- and quite possibly the lives of everyone around you. It's an image of authentic power that any of us can choose to embrace.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Shepherd-like Responsibility and Child-like Idealism in Matthew 18:12–13
Albeit wildly out of sequence with the New Testament passages considered thus far, the following thoughts are the result of an academic study of two verses in the Gospel of Matthew. I offer them here for whatever value you may find in them.
A few textual critical concerns in Mt 18 require some attention before turning to the short parable in verses 12–13. The first of these occurs with verse 11, in that the earliest extant versions of the text do not contain this phrase, “For the Son of Man came (to seek and) to save the lost.” This seems to have been added as connective and clarifying material, but as such it potentially changes the original scope of the passage. In omitting this verse, a more specific reading is preserved. Although for some this may reduce the usefulness of the passage, imaginative interpreters are seldom daunted by such limitations. Thus, verse 11 has been omitted.
The next challenge appears in Mt 18:14, in which the pronoun preceding “father in heaven” is in question. No matter what pronoun one chooses here, however, it is clear that the author of Matthew is having the character of Jesus refer to God. It is best not to make too much of the pronoun discrepancy when the intent of the phrase is so blatantly clear. Similarly, whether one follows a longer or shorter text by one word (“truly”) in Mt 18:19 is inconsequential. One must assume that a devotee of the Jesus ideal would portray the words of Jesus as true, thus an additional “truly” inserted into the text cannot make the words that follow more true. Inclusion of the word is probably not reflective of a desire for clarity, but rather a preference for a particular stylistic affectation.
In Mt 18:15, however, the phrase “against you” was possibly added by a scribe for clarification, or was perhaps omitted from the original text to make the passage more universal. In this instance, personal relationships are better served by letting the phrase stand as a more specific qualifier as to when one should confront a fellow human being. The human propensity to count as wrong or sinful any behavior with which one disagrees opens this passage up to abuse. Thus, a reader’s voracious appetite for correcting any perceived misdeeds by others may be tempered by a more limiting reading. Thus, since the longer reading is plausibly authentic, this discussion assumes the verse to read, “If a fellow disciple sins against you.”
In the passage leading up to Mt 18:12, the disciples have approached Jesus to inquire about status in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus responds by referring to a child, stating that the disciples would never enter the kingdom of heaven unless they change and become as children. Those who assume the societal status of a child will be greatest in the kingdom, and those who are welcoming to children are, in effect, welcoming Jesus. Then, the character of Jesus proclaims that, although the world is full of temptations, a person who causes temptation—particularly toward children—would be better off dead. In essence, the author suggests that suicide is preferable to the “eternal fire” that awaits an individual who leads a child astray.
This passage qualifies “little ones” as “those who believe in [Jesus]” (Mt 18:6), and this opens up room for interpretation. One might conclude that the little ones to which the character of Jesus refers are actual children who also happen to believe in him. One might justifiably conclude, however, that the little ones in this passage are now the followers of Jesus who have become like little children, suggesting that Jesus is here proclaiming woe upon any person who tempts one of his faithful followers away from faith. It is impossible to tell with certainty whether the child imagery is at this point a metaphor for the attitude of those who understand Jesus’ message or whether a child is just a child. From Mt 18:10, which immediately precedes the parable under scrutiny, one might extrapolate that the author is referring to those who are new to the Jesus cult. “Do not despise those who have less experience than you at this disciple business.” If an earlier version of a text were to be discovered which left out the qualifying “those who believe in me” in Mt 18:6, these questions would be moot, as the more specific reading of children as actual children would be much more clear. While the interpretation of “little ones” is subject to debate, the flow of discussion within the context of the passage as a whole leads from this idea of children (and those who are like children) being greatest in the kingdom to the idea of conflict resolution and agreement among members of the faith community. The child imagery disappears following Mt 18:14, and the passage heads in a new direction about how to address conflict between believers healthily, followed by a dubious promise about wish fulfillment in harmonious pairings of people.
Since verse 14 concludes the two-verse “lost sheep” parable with the explanation that God is unwilling for any children (or however one wishes to interpret “little ones”) to be spiritually lost, it seems clear that the passage which follows builds on that with a contrast to how one might deal with a more mature believer who has gone astray. Essentially, one should speak with the person directly, then take another person along to speak with the person, and finally bring the matter publicly before the collective. At any point along this trajectory, responsible adult believers can recognize how their actions have been out of alignment with their beliefs, and they can then make a course correction and remain within the community. Once the matter has been publicly addressed, however, if the adult believer is unwilling to acknowledge wrongdoing, it is perfectly acceptable to cast them out of the faith community. This is in contrast to how one should treat the “little ones” of the passage prior to this instruction, toward whom the community of believers should be protective.
Thus, the larger passage flows as follows: The disciples ask about status in the kingdom. Jesus uses a child to point out that their priorities are skewed, indicating that only people who are child-like in status will even be admitted into the kingdom. From this statement, Jesus pronounces judgment on any person who would teach a child to behave wrongfully and asserts that children deserve special attention from the community of faith, presumably so that they will grow into adults who can be meaningful, responsible participants in the faith community. Adults, by contrast, are capable of handling things differently. Adult members of the faith community should be more able to recognize and address their wrongdoing, and it is detrimental to the community to be overindulgent toward misbehavior of adult participants. Conflict among the adults in the faith community should be resolved directly and methodically, with real consequences for those who would assert their own selfish behavior over the good of the community. With this context in mind, it is therefore quite likely that the “little ones” and the “lost sheep” of Mt 18:6–14 refer specifically to children.
Although it is beyond the scope of the lost sheep parable in Mt 18:12–13, much has been considered in the larger Christian community about what it may mean to “become like little children” (Mt 18:3). Certainly, there are those who would assert the value of a certain ignorance of the way the world works, claiming that mature scientific knowledge of reality is a hindrance to faith. Some might suggest that children have an innocence that jaded adults lack, although this opens up the larger controversial subject of original sin. Perhaps the author of Matthew is simply referring to the status of children in society, suggesting a connection only to the status of disciples in the larger context of the kingdom of heaven. While it would be futile to attempt to resolve the larger debate on the subject, it is worth considering that the author of Matthew is suggesting that children are less concerned about status and more adept at living in the moment without regard to future consequences. As will become apparent, the parable in Mt 18:12–13 suggests that children require adults to keep them from going too far afield with this freedom, but if adults were somehow able to pair mature personal responsibility with carefree idealism, what an incredible force to behold that would be! Truly, if one lacks the ability to live by what some may consider to be an unrealistic set of ideals, one cannot hope to follow the teachings of Jesus as they are presented in the gospels.
With regard to the intended audience for Mt 18:12–13, the parable falls within a passage in which the author of Matthew portrays Jesus addressing his disciples. It is probable that the author of Matthew is actually addressing the participants of the early church, recommending how the early church should address various issues through the presumed words of Jesus. There is wisdom in what is expressed for any community, and as every person is a member of some community, the passage has the potential to speak to how any human being might relate to children and manage conflict, whether one is a disciple of Jesus or not.
The actual parable is in Mt 18:12–13. In this short passage, the character of Jesus suggests that the owner of a flock of sheep would leave 99% of his flock in order to look for one sheep that wandered away. Recovering that one sheep will be a source of joy surpassing that of retaining the majority of the sheep, which stayed in a place of safety and were not the cause of any undue stress. There is truth here regarding sheep and human behavior. Sheep are often oblivious to their surroundings, and it is within the nature of a sheep to wander away, not out of any willful disobedience, but out of sheer ignorance. Likewise, when a person recovers a possession once imagined to be lost, that possession becomes more prized than other possessions that were safely kept out of harm’s way, regardless of the actual value of the possessions in question.
As previously stated, the parable equates children with sheep, prone to be oblivious to much of the world around them and ignorant of the consequences of their actions. While the conclusion of the parable mentions God, the thrust of the story is not that God will take care of children. Rather, the parable serves as a motivation for the disciples to pay attention to the children in their midst, to guide them—and rescue them if necessary—rather than despise them or look upon them with disinterest. In fact, the author of Matthew asserts that when the angels look at children, they see the face of God. Thus, the disciples would do well to look for the face of God when they look upon the children in their midst.
Even for twenty-first century adults, this admonition has profound ramifications. Children are children; children are not adults. One should not expect of children what one expects of adults. Children understand things differently than adults, they respond to the world differently from adults, and they are not aware of the ramifications of their actions to the same extent that one might expect adults to be. Thus, adults should allow children to be children, understanding that they warrant a bit more guidance and patience than adults do. If adults desire for children to grow up to be responsible members of a greater collective, it is the duty of adults to teach children how to do that. This happens through direct (patient, age-appropriate) teaching, but children also learn through modeling. If a child sees adults living responsibly, then the child learns to mimic that example. Sometimes healthy models are not evident in a child’s nuclear family. Thus, the potentially overused and trite African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” is an appropriate message to take away from this parable.
Human beings are in a very real way connected to one another. What happens to the children in a community affects everyone in the community—regardless of actual familiar relationships. It is therefore imperative to the health of a society that the adults of a community notice, respect, spend time with, care for, and instruct the children in their midst. To neglect the well-being of children is to treat them as non-persons. Put another way, extrapolated from Mt 18:10, to fail to see children as important is to fail to see God as important. Asserting the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings is impossible if one does not assert the inherent worth and dignity of children. Ignoring the development of meaningful relationships with and responsible behavior toward children is shortsighted and ultimately self-destructive. The children of today are, after all, the foundation of tomorrow’s society.
If one considers these conclusions credible, then one might take action in several ways. First, one might develop more responsible, mature, self-differentiated adult relationships, so that children who bear witness to these relationships have a healthy model from which to learn. Second, one might adopt a discipline of acknowledging children with respect rather than ignoring them, inviting meaningful interaction that validates a child’s own personality, opinions, and interests while still allowing for instruction and encouraging growth. Third, one might take more seriously the injustices toward children evident in one’s neighborhood, city, nation, and world. One person cannot overcome all of the challenges that children face, and yet one person can take a stand that children matter.
While many individuals become intensely engaged in the issue of reproductive rights, there are actual children living out of the womb and in the twenty-first century world who experience all manner of suffering, some of which is inflicted upon them by the adults in their midst. To be blunt, children are largely helpless against poverty, disease, lack of food or potable water, educational inequities, and humanity’s seemingly insatiable lust for violence, not to mention the greed that drives some predatory adults to force children into serving as laborers, soldiers, drug mules, or sex workers. One person cannot solve all of the world’s problems; the shepherd in Mt 18:12–13 does not go on a crusade to recover every lost sheep, after all. Yet every small action and every statement of conviction against the mistreatment and devaluation of children can contribute to a greater shift of cultural awareness and response. Transformative action can be as simple as being more responsive to the children in one’s own immediate sphere of contact. The divine may even be visible in youthful faces, if one can abandon concerns of status and lifestyle and blend the responsibility of an adult participant in the world with the bold idealism of a child.
A few textual critical concerns in Mt 18 require some attention before turning to the short parable in verses 12–13. The first of these occurs with verse 11, in that the earliest extant versions of the text do not contain this phrase, “For the Son of Man came (to seek and) to save the lost.” This seems to have been added as connective and clarifying material, but as such it potentially changes the original scope of the passage. In omitting this verse, a more specific reading is preserved. Although for some this may reduce the usefulness of the passage, imaginative interpreters are seldom daunted by such limitations. Thus, verse 11 has been omitted.
The next challenge appears in Mt 18:14, in which the pronoun preceding “father in heaven” is in question. No matter what pronoun one chooses here, however, it is clear that the author of Matthew is having the character of Jesus refer to God. It is best not to make too much of the pronoun discrepancy when the intent of the phrase is so blatantly clear. Similarly, whether one follows a longer or shorter text by one word (“truly”) in Mt 18:19 is inconsequential. One must assume that a devotee of the Jesus ideal would portray the words of Jesus as true, thus an additional “truly” inserted into the text cannot make the words that follow more true. Inclusion of the word is probably not reflective of a desire for clarity, but rather a preference for a particular stylistic affectation.
In Mt 18:15, however, the phrase “against you” was possibly added by a scribe for clarification, or was perhaps omitted from the original text to make the passage more universal. In this instance, personal relationships are better served by letting the phrase stand as a more specific qualifier as to when one should confront a fellow human being. The human propensity to count as wrong or sinful any behavior with which one disagrees opens this passage up to abuse. Thus, a reader’s voracious appetite for correcting any perceived misdeeds by others may be tempered by a more limiting reading. Thus, since the longer reading is plausibly authentic, this discussion assumes the verse to read, “If a fellow disciple sins against you.”
In the passage leading up to Mt 18:12, the disciples have approached Jesus to inquire about status in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus responds by referring to a child, stating that the disciples would never enter the kingdom of heaven unless they change and become as children. Those who assume the societal status of a child will be greatest in the kingdom, and those who are welcoming to children are, in effect, welcoming Jesus. Then, the character of Jesus proclaims that, although the world is full of temptations, a person who causes temptation—particularly toward children—would be better off dead. In essence, the author suggests that suicide is preferable to the “eternal fire” that awaits an individual who leads a child astray.
This passage qualifies “little ones” as “those who believe in [Jesus]” (Mt 18:6), and this opens up room for interpretation. One might conclude that the little ones to which the character of Jesus refers are actual children who also happen to believe in him. One might justifiably conclude, however, that the little ones in this passage are now the followers of Jesus who have become like little children, suggesting that Jesus is here proclaiming woe upon any person who tempts one of his faithful followers away from faith. It is impossible to tell with certainty whether the child imagery is at this point a metaphor for the attitude of those who understand Jesus’ message or whether a child is just a child. From Mt 18:10, which immediately precedes the parable under scrutiny, one might extrapolate that the author is referring to those who are new to the Jesus cult. “Do not despise those who have less experience than you at this disciple business.” If an earlier version of a text were to be discovered which left out the qualifying “those who believe in me” in Mt 18:6, these questions would be moot, as the more specific reading of children as actual children would be much more clear. While the interpretation of “little ones” is subject to debate, the flow of discussion within the context of the passage as a whole leads from this idea of children (and those who are like children) being greatest in the kingdom to the idea of conflict resolution and agreement among members of the faith community. The child imagery disappears following Mt 18:14, and the passage heads in a new direction about how to address conflict between believers healthily, followed by a dubious promise about wish fulfillment in harmonious pairings of people.
Since verse 14 concludes the two-verse “lost sheep” parable with the explanation that God is unwilling for any children (or however one wishes to interpret “little ones”) to be spiritually lost, it seems clear that the passage which follows builds on that with a contrast to how one might deal with a more mature believer who has gone astray. Essentially, one should speak with the person directly, then take another person along to speak with the person, and finally bring the matter publicly before the collective. At any point along this trajectory, responsible adult believers can recognize how their actions have been out of alignment with their beliefs, and they can then make a course correction and remain within the community. Once the matter has been publicly addressed, however, if the adult believer is unwilling to acknowledge wrongdoing, it is perfectly acceptable to cast them out of the faith community. This is in contrast to how one should treat the “little ones” of the passage prior to this instruction, toward whom the community of believers should be protective.
Thus, the larger passage flows as follows: The disciples ask about status in the kingdom. Jesus uses a child to point out that their priorities are skewed, indicating that only people who are child-like in status will even be admitted into the kingdom. From this statement, Jesus pronounces judgment on any person who would teach a child to behave wrongfully and asserts that children deserve special attention from the community of faith, presumably so that they will grow into adults who can be meaningful, responsible participants in the faith community. Adults, by contrast, are capable of handling things differently. Adult members of the faith community should be more able to recognize and address their wrongdoing, and it is detrimental to the community to be overindulgent toward misbehavior of adult participants. Conflict among the adults in the faith community should be resolved directly and methodically, with real consequences for those who would assert their own selfish behavior over the good of the community. With this context in mind, it is therefore quite likely that the “little ones” and the “lost sheep” of Mt 18:6–14 refer specifically to children.
Although it is beyond the scope of the lost sheep parable in Mt 18:12–13, much has been considered in the larger Christian community about what it may mean to “become like little children” (Mt 18:3). Certainly, there are those who would assert the value of a certain ignorance of the way the world works, claiming that mature scientific knowledge of reality is a hindrance to faith. Some might suggest that children have an innocence that jaded adults lack, although this opens up the larger controversial subject of original sin. Perhaps the author of Matthew is simply referring to the status of children in society, suggesting a connection only to the status of disciples in the larger context of the kingdom of heaven. While it would be futile to attempt to resolve the larger debate on the subject, it is worth considering that the author of Matthew is suggesting that children are less concerned about status and more adept at living in the moment without regard to future consequences. As will become apparent, the parable in Mt 18:12–13 suggests that children require adults to keep them from going too far afield with this freedom, but if adults were somehow able to pair mature personal responsibility with carefree idealism, what an incredible force to behold that would be! Truly, if one lacks the ability to live by what some may consider to be an unrealistic set of ideals, one cannot hope to follow the teachings of Jesus as they are presented in the gospels.
With regard to the intended audience for Mt 18:12–13, the parable falls within a passage in which the author of Matthew portrays Jesus addressing his disciples. It is probable that the author of Matthew is actually addressing the participants of the early church, recommending how the early church should address various issues through the presumed words of Jesus. There is wisdom in what is expressed for any community, and as every person is a member of some community, the passage has the potential to speak to how any human being might relate to children and manage conflict, whether one is a disciple of Jesus or not.
The actual parable is in Mt 18:12–13. In this short passage, the character of Jesus suggests that the owner of a flock of sheep would leave 99% of his flock in order to look for one sheep that wandered away. Recovering that one sheep will be a source of joy surpassing that of retaining the majority of the sheep, which stayed in a place of safety and were not the cause of any undue stress. There is truth here regarding sheep and human behavior. Sheep are often oblivious to their surroundings, and it is within the nature of a sheep to wander away, not out of any willful disobedience, but out of sheer ignorance. Likewise, when a person recovers a possession once imagined to be lost, that possession becomes more prized than other possessions that were safely kept out of harm’s way, regardless of the actual value of the possessions in question.
As previously stated, the parable equates children with sheep, prone to be oblivious to much of the world around them and ignorant of the consequences of their actions. While the conclusion of the parable mentions God, the thrust of the story is not that God will take care of children. Rather, the parable serves as a motivation for the disciples to pay attention to the children in their midst, to guide them—and rescue them if necessary—rather than despise them or look upon them with disinterest. In fact, the author of Matthew asserts that when the angels look at children, they see the face of God. Thus, the disciples would do well to look for the face of God when they look upon the children in their midst.
Even for twenty-first century adults, this admonition has profound ramifications. Children are children; children are not adults. One should not expect of children what one expects of adults. Children understand things differently than adults, they respond to the world differently from adults, and they are not aware of the ramifications of their actions to the same extent that one might expect adults to be. Thus, adults should allow children to be children, understanding that they warrant a bit more guidance and patience than adults do. If adults desire for children to grow up to be responsible members of a greater collective, it is the duty of adults to teach children how to do that. This happens through direct (patient, age-appropriate) teaching, but children also learn through modeling. If a child sees adults living responsibly, then the child learns to mimic that example. Sometimes healthy models are not evident in a child’s nuclear family. Thus, the potentially overused and trite African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” is an appropriate message to take away from this parable.
Human beings are in a very real way connected to one another. What happens to the children in a community affects everyone in the community—regardless of actual familiar relationships. It is therefore imperative to the health of a society that the adults of a community notice, respect, spend time with, care for, and instruct the children in their midst. To neglect the well-being of children is to treat them as non-persons. Put another way, extrapolated from Mt 18:10, to fail to see children as important is to fail to see God as important. Asserting the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings is impossible if one does not assert the inherent worth and dignity of children. Ignoring the development of meaningful relationships with and responsible behavior toward children is shortsighted and ultimately self-destructive. The children of today are, after all, the foundation of tomorrow’s society.
If one considers these conclusions credible, then one might take action in several ways. First, one might develop more responsible, mature, self-differentiated adult relationships, so that children who bear witness to these relationships have a healthy model from which to learn. Second, one might adopt a discipline of acknowledging children with respect rather than ignoring them, inviting meaningful interaction that validates a child’s own personality, opinions, and interests while still allowing for instruction and encouraging growth. Third, one might take more seriously the injustices toward children evident in one’s neighborhood, city, nation, and world. One person cannot overcome all of the challenges that children face, and yet one person can take a stand that children matter.
While many individuals become intensely engaged in the issue of reproductive rights, there are actual children living out of the womb and in the twenty-first century world who experience all manner of suffering, some of which is inflicted upon them by the adults in their midst. To be blunt, children are largely helpless against poverty, disease, lack of food or potable water, educational inequities, and humanity’s seemingly insatiable lust for violence, not to mention the greed that drives some predatory adults to force children into serving as laborers, soldiers, drug mules, or sex workers. One person cannot solve all of the world’s problems; the shepherd in Mt 18:12–13 does not go on a crusade to recover every lost sheep, after all. Yet every small action and every statement of conviction against the mistreatment and devaluation of children can contribute to a greater shift of cultural awareness and response. Transformative action can be as simple as being more responsive to the children in one’s own immediate sphere of contact. The divine may even be visible in youthful faces, if one can abandon concerns of status and lifestyle and blend the responsibility of an adult participant in the world with the bold idealism of a child.
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