A Meditation on Matthew 18:1-5

From beginning to end, the Gospel of Matthew is about who will rule Israel, and it is about how that ruler will rule Israel. In this sense, the Gospel of Matthew is about Jesus. As Jesus makes his way to Jerusalem, he remains in constant conflict with those who are in some sense currently seeking to keep the rule of Israel for themselves. As soon as Jesus is born, we come across Herod who kills to ensure his own fragile power, and throughout the rest of the gospel those with some degree of power such as the temple leaders plot to kill Jesus because he threatens their power and influence.

It is little surprise then that Jesus’ disciples continually ask him right up until the end who will be the greatest in his kingdom. The Gospel of Luke shows the disciples asking Jesus this questions at the Last Supper (Luke 22:24-27). They, like others in the gospel story, want to know because they are on the cusp of entering Jerusalem with the new king of Israel. They are about to witness Jesus become the newly inaugurated king, and so they want to know and to ensure their place alongside him in his kingdom.

Also, their question comes right after Jesus singled out Peter, James, and John to go with him to a private place. Their question also comes right after Jesus sends Peter to be his representative for paying a temple tax. And so now the disciples are curious: who is the greatest in Jesus’ kingdom? 

Jesus likely knows what and why they are asking. However, he turns their question and assumptions upside down. Jesus is the one who will rule Israel, but he will not rule in the same way as rulers such as Herod who rule by fear and violence. Jesus does not answer their question on its own terms. He reshapes their question by calling a child into their midst.

By calling a child into their midst, Jesus shows that the values and orientation of his kingdom are not what they expected nor are they what we probably expect today. By calling a child into their midst, Jesus shows that the values of our world are turned upside down: in order to enter his kingdom we must enter as children.

Judging by the Gospel of Matthew’s constant theme of who will rule Israel taken together with the disciples’ question and Jesus’ response, it appears that Jesus is not talking about childlike innocence. Jesus is talking about hierarchy; Jesus is talking about social status. Children were not in the 1^st nor are they today the ones with power and authority. In the 1^st century world much like our 21^st century world, children lack what the world values most: power, wealth, and influence. In this sense, children do not have high status. A child is dependant on others. A child is not someone with whom you network in order to climb the social ladder. For example, if you wanted to run for a political office in the United States, you would be wasting your time if you spent all your time lobbying children. In this sense, Jesus’ calling a child in their midst is a refusal to participate in status games so common in the 1^st century and for that matter in our 21^st century. Jesus calls his disciples to be humble, to be low on the social ladder.

Stanley Hauerwas, a professor at Duke, explains, “Children, because they depend on others for their very existence, cannot help but live by humility” (Matthew, BrazosPress 2009, 162). 

However, those of you who are parents will likely tell me, “Sam, I appreciate that you think children are humble, but that’s a naïve picture of children. Children are not humble. They are anything but humble. They do greedy and prideful things all the time.” If that’s what you’re thinking, then you are right.

However, when we see a small child, when we hold a newly born infant in our arms, we know that child is completely dependant on us for his very existence. However prideful that child may act from time to time, we know that child needs us for food and shelter. That child needs us to tie his shoes, and when that child puts his shoes on the wrong feet we help him rearrange his shoes (or we leave them because it’s cute). That child needs us to drop him off and pick him up from school. That child needs us to ensure his safety and his future. In this sense, whether or not that child realizes it, that child is completely humbled by his dependency on us. And this is what Jesus is seeking to show his disciples about themselves, and this is what Jesus is seeking to show us about ourselves. Whether we want to admit it or not, we enter Jesus’ kingdom as children.

Jesus calls his disciples into a life of dependency like children, and so he taught them to pray to their father in heaven as children teaching them to pray, “Give this day our daily bread.” And as children, we pray to our father in heaven, “Deliver us from evil.”

What Jesus is saying here runs against probably most of our cultural values and priorities. We praise self-reliance and the self-made man. We praise people of strength and influence such as athletes and successful businessmen. But Jesus tells us to be like children who are not self-reliant nor are they self-made. 

Jesus, however, does not end by saying that his disciples must be like children. As we follow the Matthew story, we will probably notice that Jesus is constantly gathering people around himself, but he is not gathering people who could bring him high acclaim; they are people on the fringes of society who have no status and could certainly not give him status by association. Instead of linking with key leaders of his day in order to climb the social ladder, Jesus networks with the unconnected on the fringes of society.

Jesus heals lepers and women neither of whom were highly regarded in the 1^st century and neither of whom could have imagined giving Jesus high status. Jesus also heals the lame and the blind. Jesus gathers people to himself who are like children because they are vulnerable and cannot extend to Jesus higher status. Jesus gives to them and to us what we cannot give him in return.

Jesus explains that not only do people enter his kingdom by being as humble as children, but we are also to welcome those who are like children, who are not high in status, not self-reliant, and not exactly the sort of people who could get us a raise. And all this requires that we are to be people of patience who tirelessly welcome those who need help and cannot help themselves. It should probably be said in passing that the Bible does not say, “God helps those who themselves.” But it does say we are to be like children who cannot help themselves, and we are to welcome people like children who cannot help themselves.

As we follow the Matthew story, we will likely notice that Jesus is constantly gathering people around himself. Jesus is forming a community, and so when we hear Jesus calling his disciples to be like children, he is not merely calling isolated individuals to be like children. He is calling and forming a community to be as humble as children, a community that does not seek higher status, a community that does not welcome people according to achievement but welcomes people in need.

A few days ago, I watched the new musical Les Miserables. Invariably, I was reminded of Victor Hugo’s novel, Les Miserables. Near the beginning of Hugo’s novel, there is an ex-convict named Jean Valjean, and he had been released from prison only a few days before. When he comes to a town at night, he cannot find lodging anywhere. As soon as people find out he is an ex-convict, they cast him out. He is completely unconnected socially. Then finally he arrives at a little old house where a little old bishop lives. Jean Valjean knocks, and the door swings open. Instead of going through the labor of the old bishop finding out who he is, Jean Valjean tells the old bishop to begin with that he is an ex-convict. Then the old bishop says something unexpected. The old bishop says, “You did not have to tell me who you were. This is not my house. It’s the house of Jesus Christ. The door does not ask who enters whether he has a name but whether he has any pain. You are suffering. You are hungry. You are welcome.”

I recently heard a story about a young lady who is a mother of three children. The father is no longer in the picture. She has two jobs, a fulltime and part-time job, totaling roughly sixty hours per week. She works that much because that’s what it takes for her to put food on the table and a roof over her children’s heads. Not long ago, she found out she is pregnant, but as I just mentioned, the father is longer in the picture. She is contemplating abortion not because she wants to exercise her free choice but because she feels she doesn’t have a choice. (I am sure stories like this one could be enumerated ten thousand times over).

Jesus is forming a community that lives by childlike humility recognizing that its life is dependant on God, a community that thereby extends its hospitality to those who are most vulnerable. Jesus calls us to network with the unconnected. 

As we follow Jesus’ footsteps as children, we will most likely do a lot of stumbling along the way like toddlers first learning to walk. And as we do, let us remember that we are to be a community as humble as children; we are to be a community that welcomes children and where children are safe. This will be difficult, and the trouble about being a hospitable community is that it doesn’t get any easier by saying it a bunch of times. Like toddlers learning to walk, we have to try it. We will likely take a few steps and then take a tumble. Fortunately, our father in heaven will pick us up so we can try again. We need each other in this process, and because we are like children we are called to forgive each other inexhaustibly. 

From beginning to end, the Gospel of Matthew is about who will rule Israel, and it is about how that ruler will rule Israel. The Gospel of Matthew is about Jesus. However, by the end of the story, we do not have a king on a throne with hosts of armies to conquer the world thereby establishing his empire. That is not Jesus’ kingdom. Instead, we see a king who has been crucified and who sends humble children into a dangerous world. That is Jesus’ kingdom. And for this reason the apostle Paul says that this kingdom with a crucified king and childlike subjects is foolishness to pagans (1 Cor. 1:23). And perhaps it seems like foolishness to us also. This is a topsy-turvy kingdom. Jesus’ kingdom turns our assumptions upside down by placing a child in our midst, and Jesus tells us this is how we enter his kingdom and this is whom we are to welcome into his kingdom.   

Les Miserables: “the immense”

Like War and Peace, Les Miserables is a book that many people reference but few people read. Both books each seem longer than Webster’s dictionary, which is reason enough for people to avoid them. To compare them would perhaps be a temptation, but they are as different as they are long.

In recent weeks, I have trekked through the fields and allies of Les Miserables, and I am beginning to think that even if people begin to read it they will not finish it simply because Hugo spends so many pages providing “back stories” for the characters. This, however, does not detract from the narrative; in my opinion, it adds layers to the story.

It would seem that the twentieth century would have us believe that there is one way to go about writing a novel: showing the story that the reader might eavesdrop. Hugo, however, has reminded me that there is a real art and beauty in telling a story. Layer after layer, Les Miserables unfolds divulging events from various persons’ lives that converge into conflict, terror, and redemption. It’s a five-act play with all the drama and irony Shakespeare could imagine.  

It’s no secret that I enjoy reading novels and that Dostoevsky is my favorite novelist. It would likely make sense then that I make a smattering of comments contrasting Hugo’s Les Miserables with bits of Dostoevsky’s corpus. First, however, a few notes of similarity are in order. Both seem to focus on the underbelly of society, and this focus sets a variety of trajectories that color the complexions of their respective narratives. In this bleak context of criminality and moral ambiguity, both paint poignant pictures of abuse, neglect, and deliverance of women – consider for a moment the tragic stories of Fantine in Les Miserables and Sonya in Crime and Punishment. This is especially appropriate considering it is most often women’s abuse that is ignored. There are numerous other similarities, but that will suffice for the moment.

Their respective anthropologies are no doubt a point of departure. For Hugo, it would seem that people are basically good and that it is society that grinds people into the sort of corrupt people that would commit abominable crimes. This would almost seem to be the case in Crime and Punishment, but Dostoevsky does not quite give us the luxury. Because the protagonist of Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov, is a destitute student at the end of his rope who then commits murder, we might be inclined to deduce that like Hugo Dostoevsky shows Raskolnikov to be a product of a system that failed him. However, as the story builds, Dostoevsky shows Raskolnikov’s motives for crime to be sundry and inscrutable (in a letter to a friend, Dostoevsky admits that even he does not know why Raskolnikov committed the murder). Unlike Hugo, for Dostoevsky humans are not basically good. For Dostoevsky, rich and poor alike are prone to crime and/or immorality. Dostoevsky’s anthropology of rather cynical ambiguity and depravity seems to be at a different point of the spectrum from Hugo’s. It may prove illuminating for future considerations if Hugo’s focus on systemic complicity and Dostoevsky’s focus on personal complicity are held together.

This then sets the stage for another point of difference: the path to redemption. Because Hugo is in the business of disparaging the corrupt justice system, it is precisely the corrupt system that must break down before Jean Valjean can be free. For Jean Valjean good deeds, escape, and the cessation of the system’s pursuit shall pave the road to redemption. However, Jean Valjean still battles with his conscience even when he evades the justice system. In contrast, it is the justice system that paves the road to redemption for Raskolnikov; for Raskolnikov confession and prison shall be the road to redemption. In my judgment, it seems that the breakdown of corrupt systems and confession could beneficially be held together. For both Hugo and Dostoevsky, conscience is a major player in the lives of their protagonists, albeit the justice system is portrayed variously.

Intertwined with their respective anthropologies and their notions of redemption are their exemplar humans or Christ figures. Setup as the exemplar in Les Miserables is the Christ-like bishop who rides on a donkey and who quite literally cares for the poor and disenfranchised. This seems to focus on Jesus’ acts towards the poor – e.g. see the gospel of Luke: the gospel is for the poor. And by the end of Les Miserables, Jean Valjean the convict has evolved into an angel and Christ-figure from the seed that the bishop planted at the beginning of the novel. In The Idiot the Christ figure is a protagonist who basically lacks common sense not because the protagonist is stupid but because the protagonist has not been corrupted by the “common sense” of the world; for example, the protagonist is completely naïve in regards to relations with women. This seems to focus on Jesus’ sinlessness. It seems that their Christ figures bespeak their differing anthropologies: while Hugo focuses on acts of justice, Dostoevsky focuses on innocence.

There are numerous other comparisons that could be mentioned, but these are merely a few considerations that kept cropping up in my mind as I meandered through the shadowy cobblestone streets, dank sewers, and battlefields of Les Miserables.

Les Miserables is a touching story of abuse and healing, and it is no surprise that quite a few movies have been “based” on this story. It’s a story about the evolution of a galley slave becoming an angel, a convict becoming a christ. It’s one of the most memorable stories in world literature. I would like to recommend this novel. However, considering that we live in an age of sound bytes, I suspect almost nobody would be too keen on having such an immense adventure.