You may be surprised to learn who Jesus is referring to when he says, “these little ones.”
He’s talking about his apostles!
Yet that fits everything else Jesus taught them.
Recall that when the disciples asked who was the greatest,
the Lord put a child in their midst and said,
“Unless you become like children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Another time he told them,
“If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”
And then there’s the Last Supper.
It is very likely that Peter — the one Jesus named as their leader —
was seated at the far end of the table, where the servant sat.
That same night, the Lord of the universe
wrapped a towel around his waist and washed their feet.
The Suffering Servant of Isaiah became their servant.
This is how Jesus’ kingdom works.
We can imagine the apostles being startled — even offended — by it.
In calling them “little ones,” Jesus conveys two important realities.
First, lowly status in the eyes of the world.
Second, radical dependence on God.
As children, you and I strain each day to become less dependent:
“I can do it myself!”
Later in life, we learn humility on the installment plan
as we slowly become more dependent again.
So, how does this apply to us?
It means our bishops, the successors of the apostles,
are called to be shepherds who smell like their sheep,
as Pope Francis said.
There was a time when bishops were treated like princes.
That honor was meant to point to Christ the King,
but it also fed arrogance.
We’ve tried to move away from that.
When St. John the Baptist Church burned down in Mercer County,
Archbishop Casey was in Maria Stein that next Sunday.
The same lesson applies to priests.
We receive a lot of deference — sometimes in unhealthy ways.
No normal person likes being told, “that’s a bad idea!”
But it’s important that pastors have folks around them to do that.
Our finance committee, school committee and pastoral council,
our staff, our priests and deacons, provide that help. I’m glad they do.
Even better is that we have so many people in our parish
who aren’t just naysayers, but problem-solvers.
This truth reaches far beyond the clergy.
It is a powerful thing when parents – or anyone in authority –
is prepared to say,
“I was wrong. I showed anger, I wasn’t patient. Please forgive me.”
In fact, that boils down to six of the most powerful words
any of us can speak: six words that – it is not an exaggeration to say –
can change the world. Those six words are: “I was wrong. I am sorry.”
Then, add two more: “Help me.”
There are a lot of employers who need to say these words
to their coworkers. Husbands and wives, to each other.
Jesus never had to say, “I was wrong.” He never sinned.
And yet the eternal Son of God became a baby in a stable,
dependent on others for food, warmth, and shelter.
The Lord stood mute when, through Pilate,
his creatures put him on trial, convicted and executed him.
Not for any crime of his, but for the sins – and the reconciliation –
of the world.
Our God who needs nothing still says to us,
“Come to me… I thirst… Help me carry this cross.”
The Apostles may have been irked that Jesus called them “little ones.”
They would each, in turn, be embarrassed
when they experienced their own weaknesses.
They became giants as they yielded to the truth
of Paul’s words in their lives:
it isn’t me, but Christ in me, that is powerful!
How about you? Maybe you think, I don’t need this pep-talk.
This is for someone else. Hmm. Maybe.
Or, perhaps you think, no, I really am helpless,
And God should call someone else! Maybe.