Meditation on Mark 9:30–37
First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY
Pastor Karen Crawford
Sept. 22, 2024
Our presbytery met at Shelter Island yesterday.
Jim and I sat near the back of the old white church, next to the Rev. Candace Whitman, my former seminary classmate, and in front of the Rev. Emily Fowler, pastor of the Port Jefferson church.
Legos were scattered on the pew and floor behind us. Emily had brought her 4-year-old son, Avery. It was to be an adventure weekend for him, she said. Avery, who just started kindergarten, turns 5 tomorrow.
In case you’re wondering, we don’t usually have children at our presbytery meetings. There isn’t a rule against bringing small children to presbytery meetings. Just most people wouldn’t bring them.
Maybe it’s one of those unwritten rules we have, that during a presbytery meeting, only one person is allowed to speak at a time. When one person is speaking, the rest of us are required to be quiet and sit still and not make any disturbances. We are Presbyterians, after all! We like everything decent and in order.
Having Avery there made the meeting infinitely more interesting for Rev. Candace and me, who immediately fell in love with him. Avery sang along with the hymns. And he sang and hummed to himself when we weren’t singing. He clutched his Sonic the Hedgehog stuffie and sang, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” when the speaker was talking about something serious. Maybe it was about the budget, or per capita, or a new policy. I don’t remember. I do recall, however, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” which was fitting for the occasion, since we all had to take a small ferry to get to Shelter Island. And there was a banner with a boat hanging on the right side of the sanctuary. Another banner hung on the left, with the saying, “Jesus, Pilot Me.”
Avery joined us when we voted on the motions. Our presbytery moderator would say, “All in favor, please say Aye.” And Avery would say, “Aye.” And then the moderator would say, “All opposed, please say neigh.” And Avery would say, “Neigh,” probably thinking that he was making the sound of a horse.
Each time he said, “Neigh,” he would let out a little giggle.
Candace and I couldn’t help but look at each other and smile, too.
A couple more votes went by. Avery voted “Aye” and “Neigh,” though his mother gave him a fierce look, saying “be quiet” with her eyes. Maybe you’ve seen that look before. Maybe you’ve given that look before!
The moderator was startled by all the Neighs. People assured him not to worry about it. The vote wasn’t “official,” one man said, with a smile. A man in front of us added, “Not yet.” Someone else said he fit in with the Presbyterians. Always a contrarian in the group, they joked.
At the break, the Rev. Candace and I and others talked with Avery, asking him how he liked school. At lunch, he sat at our table and named his bus driver and kindergarten teacher and told us how much fun he was having, already. And he pointed out one of the volunteers at the church serving food. She was his new friend, Allison, he said. He was already making friends and influencing people.
Our table sang “Happy Birthday” to Avery when we finished our lunch. Others joined in.
When we left the presbytery meeting, I kept thinking about Avery. I am proud of our presbytery! No one shushed him. No one, but his mom, gave him so much as a be quiet look.
We welcomed him, just as Jesus taught us.
The lesson of welcoming a small child comes up in Mark’s gospel today. Jesus had just told his disciples of his pending betrayal, death, and resurrection. And they didn’t know what to say. They don’t understand, and they are too afraid to ask him to explain.
Jesus will tell his disciples three times in Mark what is to happen to him. In 8:31, he will suffer and be rejected. In 9:31, he will be betrayed; and in 10:34, he will experience mocking, spitting, and flogging.
And now the disciples are arguing on the road to Capernaum. When they get to the house, Jesus asks them what they had been arguing about. And they are silent. It’s like children acting up in the back seat of the car. When you ask them what’s happening, they aren’t going to say—because they know they were doing something wrong, and they don’t want to get in trouble. Right?
Jesus already knows what they were arguing about. He heard them, though he doesn’t say. They were arguing over who was the greatest. He has just told them that he will have to suffer, and they didn’t understand what he was telling them. Now they are competing to be the greatest, perhaps the most valuable to him. Jesus, thinking quickly, uses their argument as a teaching moment for the first lesson that they didn’t get!
Are there any teachers or former teachers of young children here? You know what I mean by “a teaching moment,” don’t you? This isn’t something on your lesson plan, but something that comes up spontaneously during the class or school day. You recognize it as an opportunity, not to scold, but to teach the class an important lesson with the perfect, unplanned illustration that just landed in your lap.
Jesus sits down with the 12, because when teachers had something important to say back then, they didn’t stand up, they sat down to teach. He sits down with the 12 and says to all of them, “Whoever wants to be the first must be last of all and servant of all.”
And there just happens to be a little child nearby. He places the child among them and takes them in his arms before he tells them the most important piece of his lesson. Whoever welcomes the child, welcomes him, and whoever welcomes him, welcomes the one who sent him.
I really like it that Mark doesn’t tell us if the child is a boy or girl. It doesn’t matter! They are both equally precious to God, while in their society, in ancient Israel, “children had no social status whatsoever.” [1] Theologian Peter Paris says that he is “clearly stating a reversal of the social order by making the least first and the first last…His messianic kingdom would establish a new social ethic by reversing the social and political fortunes of the dispossessed and restoring health to those who were sick and disabled, as well as dignity and value to children, women, and the outcasts.” [2]
We still have another chance to get it right, dear friends—to listen to the young people of our faith community and try to see the Church and the world through their eyes.
Another young person attended the presbytery meeting yesterday in Shelter Island. He served as our YAAD, a Young Adult Advisory Delegate, to General Assembly in Salt Lake City in June. He shared during a question-and-answer session with the ruling elder and teaching elder commissioners to GA how the YAADs were concerned about one issue, in particular. They spoke up passionately in favor of the overture for our denomination’s divestment from fossil fuels. The overture passed, but then the decision was overturned. The YAADs felt like no one had listened to them, he said. And YAADs are just “advisory” delegates. They have no vote.
No one at the presbytery meeting immediately responded to his heartfelt sharing, though several did thank him for his service. Some may have spoken with him afterward. I hope so! I wished that I had taken the time to encourage him. But maybe it’s not too late.
I have been thinking that I want to write that bright, young man a letter and thank him for his work at General Assembly. I want to tell him to not grow weary of doing good, as Paul says in Galatians 6:9, “for in due season we will reap a harvest, if we do not give up.” I will tell him that we need him and all the other young adults and youth in our denomination to care about the way we do church and challenge us when we need to change. That how we invest and spend our money as a denomination speaks volumes about what we believe.
Brothers and sisters, the One who was betrayed, suffered, and was raised tells us, “Whoever wants to be the first must be last of all and servant of all.” And that to welcome the children and all without voice or status in our society in Christ’s name is to welcome Jesus himself.
And those who welcome him are welcoming the One who sent Him.
Let us pray.
Holy One, thank you for sending your Son to show us the way back to you when we, like sheep, went astray. Your Son was betrayed, suffered, died, and was raised for us so that we may live new lives for Him. Teach us—in this world where accomplishments, wealth, and power mean everything, and humility is seen as weakness—to understand what it means to be the greatest servant of all. Lead us, day by day, to live out our faith and welcome children, youth, and young adults into the Church. Open our ears and hearts to really listen to them and take them seriously. Stir us to encourage them when they don’t see the changes they want right away. Give us the right words to say, such as “Don’t grow weary of doing well. The harvest will come, if we don’t give up!” In the name of our Triune God we pray. Amen.
[1] Peter J. Paris, Connections: A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, Year B, Vol. 3, Season After Pentecost (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2021), 334.
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