“let the little children”
There is a moment in the Gospels that reveals the gentle strength of God’s Kingdom.
People start bringing children to Jesus.
The ever-practical disciples are trying to manage the situation. They want the children to be sent away. After all, children are not important. There are more urgent matters at hand. Political tensions. Religious controversies. After all, the mission must be protected.
In response, Jesus is very direct in His gentleness:
“Let the little children come to me. Do not hinder them. For the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”
He does not say this softly. He does not say this symbolically.
He says it prophetically. He says it literally.
In the world of first-century Rome, children were among the least of these.
They had no status. No leverage. No influence. They were entirely dependent on the adults around them.
To welcome them would be to reorder the value system of these people who had been formed by the empire.
Which is exactly what Jesus does.
the identity of a kingdom
The Kingdom of God is not identified by military might.
Not by economic dominance.
Not by political influence.
Those who are a part of it are identified by how they treat the smallest. The least. The children.
And this is where the reality of earthly empires becomes uncomfortable.
Because children are usually the first to suffer when worldly power consolidates itself.
When bombs fall, children are dismembered or die.
When boarder policies harden, children are displaced and separated.
When systems protect reputation over truth, children are silenced.
When exploitation and trafficking hides amongst wealth and politics, children are abused while adults negotiate the outcomes.
And we convince ourselves to look away, to believe the narratives that justify, to learn to cope thru distraction.
But even if looking at what is happening to the children is complicated, it is necessary. We cannot avoid it.
Yes, it can feel political. But really, it’s ethical.
In this crucial story, Jesus does not speak in the language of politics.
He speaks in the language of protection.
“Do not hinder them.”
it’s tempting to justify
The real danger is rarely that we cheer for harm.
The real danger is that we learn to rationalize it.
We learn to prioritize stability over safety.
Order over innocence.
Tribe over truth.
Access over accountability.
We tell ourselves that protecting our personal opinion, our party, our leaders, or our institutions is the higher good – even if it requires muting the volume of the suffering of children.
But if following Jesus requires us to soften the concern for the vulnerable in order to maintain power, we have already traded the sacred for the profane.
Last week, the temptation in the wilderness was about power.
This week’s story presses deeper:
Are we willing to tolerate abusive power if it promises us safety or success?
indirect harm still wounds
Most people are not directly harming children.
But indirect harm still wounds.
When we defend actions that produce casualties.
When we excuse accused abusers because they are a means to an end.
When we dismiss testimonies because they are inconvenient to our established allegiances.
We may not hold the sword.
But are we steadying the hand that does?
We may not enact the abuse.
But are we emboldening the people who do?
This series is not actually about public outrage. Though there are enough things happening to our children in today’s world that public outrage is justified.
It is actually about individual and collective repentance.
Where have I looked away or justified what Jesus would condemn?
Where have I allowed allegiance to empire to take precedence over my compassion to the least of these?
Where have I looked at children caught up in war, policy disputes, detention, trafficking, abuse, or political theater and decided the ends justify the means?
the kingdom belongs to such as these
Jesus gathers the children close in that Gospel story.
He does not ask about their family lineage.
He does not check their ethnic identity.
He does not calculate their political utility.
He welcomes them and blesses them.
And then he says something even more powerful:
“Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
God’s Kingdom is not established by dominance.
It is revealed through dependence.
The reflection for us this week is only partially about how we ourselves treat children.
A major portion of the reflection is how we allow those in power to treat them.
And the most crucial part of the reflection is whether we have become too important in our own imagination to become like them.
Because if we are unwilling to become like children, we will not inherit the Kingdom.
the invitation of the children
If Jesus stood among the most vulnerable children in our world right now – those displaced by violence, separated from families, silenced by exploitation, or ignored because their suffering complicates our loyalties:
Would we be standing with Him?
Or would we be explaining why it is more complex than it looks?
Do not rush past the children this week.
Let their vulnerability expose our compromises.
Because the Kingdom of God does not advance by sacrificing the smallest.
It is revealed by those who protect them.
*This blog is a part of a series of Lenten reflections. I encourage you to go back and start with the Ash Wednesday reflection for context if this is the first one you’ve read.