The scene: A church in America
It’s a church in the Commonwealth of Virginia
A church with the most
Presbyterian name I have ever heard: Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church.
It was a sunny Sunday, just
past noonday. The suits milled; the organ trilled. Worship was letting out at
Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church. Faces and families similar to many faces
and families here today began to beat their strategic retreat from the city to
the county.
Amidst this recessional: one
family’s family Ford. Riding on the hump in the middle of the back seat: that
family’s youngest of three – wedged between his older siblings.
On that 1960s day – or so the
story is told – this churchgoing family, en route home, encountered a detour. A
route that would skirt them across the edge of one of the poorest sections of
the city.
And the youngest – sitting on
that back seat hump – could not press his face against the car window that day
… as was his wont. But he could catch enough of a glimpse of his altered
surroundings to feel at once both queasy and inquisitive.
Queasy and inquisitive enough
to lean forward and pose a simple question to his father: “Daddy: Why can’t
they get a mortgage like you got?”
In the tumultuous economy of
today, perhaps the question that child might ask would be, “Daddy: Why can’t
they take the mortgage that you got?”
Regardless: It more often than not takes the perception
of a child-like faith – glimpsed through a tinted car glass darkly – to bring
us face-to-face with Jesus’ words today.
For we all know that God
comes in Jesus to and for us all.
Much like we live our lives as disciples to and for others.
And, digging relationally
deeper: We know on our best days that God comes in the very name of Jesus –
Immanuel, God-with-us – to be with and
among us. Much like we are called to live as disciples with and among the
struggles and joys of others.
And yet, digging relationally deepest still: We
discover something truly – radically
– profound in our gospel passage today. God comes in Jesus as us. As our
incarnational equals.
For did not our Lord and
Savior say in an earlier biblical time – en route to his Jerusalem – that
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me”?
And did not our Lord and
Savior then say today – en route to his Calvary
– “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are
members of my family, you did it to me”?
God comes in Jesus as
us.
As our equal – in the form of children specifically,
and the least of these in general, we encounter in our day-to-day discipleship.
Beginning with that child inside of us. And the least
of these about ourselves we tether to the crosses we bear.
For it’s in those incarnational moments of grace when
the child in particular and the least in general meet and greet and recognize
each other that we most profoundly
encounter the self-identification of God. “Daddy: Why can’t they get a mortgage
like you got?” The face of Jesus. The face of his earthly equals.
“Whoever welcomes one such
child in my name …
“Truly I tell you, just as
you did it to one of the least of these …
I believe the late pastoral
theologian Henri Nouwen inherited the Spirit-wind well when he wrote, “Discipleship is not an ascent into
popularity. It’s a descent into solidarity.”
A descent into solidarity, that we may encounter the
face of Jesus in his equals.
Beginning with the child inside of us. And the least
of these about ourselves we tether to the crosses we bear.
Discipleship. Not an ascent into popularity. A descent
into solidarity. A descent – from showing God how good we are, to allowing God
to show us how good God is. A descent – that we may encounter the face of Jesus
in his equals – his incarnation – his very flesh: The least of these, in
general … the children, in specific.
A mother of two, abused by
her rage-addicted husband, was receiving pastoral care from two lay ministers
of a church’s spiritual care team experienced in matters of domestic violence.
After a few sessions with the lay ministers, the woman came to the decision –
excruciating, yet necessary – to leave her husband and take their two children
with her. There was no permanent place for them to live. For she had come to
the conclusion that, for them, life might become harder – but it would
certainly become safer.
After the woman had departed
in tears from the church office where they had been meeting, one of the lay
ministers looked over to the other, smiled, and said, “I am so glad we were
given the opportunity to represent the Christ to that woman today.”
You may see where this is
going.
The second minister was taken
aback. “We were given the opportunity to be the Christ to that woman
today?! We were given that opportunity? My dear friend: That woman
represented the Christ to us! ‘As you did it to the least of these, you
did it to me!’”
A child … on the hump.
A woman with children … on
the move.
Encountering the face of Jesus in the face of his
equals: the least of these.
And soon, through the
five-year lease of the Del Ray Club
here it could be for us at Bethesda Presbyterian an alcoholic on the brink …
Encountering the face of Jesus in the face of his
equals …
In the children specifically:
our Bethesda Montessori School, here.
In the least of these,
generally:
The hungry at our weekly Saturday morning
lunches.
Our Rebuilding Together Montgomery County
annual outings.
And Del Ray among us … Certainly.
But now, here’s the hardest part of all:
We encounter the face of
Jesus in the least of these in another place, as well.
In our mirrors, each morning.
In ourselves.
Whoever has ears to hear … let them hear.
