My tongue will tell the anger of my
heart, or else my heart concealing it will break. William Shakespeare
One day people brought children to Jesus to be blessed by
him. His disciples tried to keep those rowdies away. Maybe they were trying to
protect Jesus – his time and energy. Perhaps they wanted to keep Jesus for
themselves – jealous of any and all who would come between him and them. It is
also possible they felt children weren’t worth his time and attention. Maybe
they thought blessings poured out onto ankle-biters would diminish the supply
of blessings they wanted for themselves.
Whatever their reasons and motives, Jesus was quite clear:
“Suffer the children to come unto me.” I always thought the use of the term
“suffer” was strange. I know the old English term means to “allow” – to allow
the children to come to (Jesus), but it still seems strange. It implies that
there is a burden involved, for to suffer is to bear up under the burden of
some person or situation.
Life is full of burdens, of course. There are people who drive
too slowly in the fast lanes. There are homeless camps littered with garbage,
used needles, and assorted cast-offs. There are people who show up late for
appointments, forget to silence their cellphones at the movies, talk too loudly
in restaurants, or fail to wash their hands after using the facilities.
It is so easy to be intolerant if we want to. Like the
disciples, we can operate out of fear or anger. We can try to protect One who
needs no protecting, or prevent others from drawing near to One who wants
nothing more than to gather all people – the clean and the unclean alike –
beneath the shadow of his wings.
To be welcoming and affirming is a burden, of course, because
it means putting our own attitude and perspective on hold or at least on a back
burner. It means there is a number one, and that One’s not me (or you). That’s
an uncomfortable place to be. There are seven billion souls on this planet (not
to mention all the non-humans), which means few of us will ever be anywhere but
in the great muddle of the middle. I think Jesus would recommend we learn to
accept our place in the universe and not be too pushy.
I had popped in to grab some groceries the other day and
needed to pick up some green onions. A woman had parked her cart in front of
the green onions while she examined the contents of the radish bin with the
thoroughness of an IRS auditor. Not one radish escaped her eagle-eyed survey as
I patiently stood by until she had finished. Nothing I did was heroic; I was
simply stoic. When she was done, she moved on and I got what I needed.
There was no applause from my fellow shoppers, and I doubt
seriously there was much rejoicing amongst the heavenly hosts. I just figure
people have enough burdens of their own to deal with, why should I add to them
by being intolerant?
The same goes for politics. Each of us has a perspective on
who or what is best for us or our community. Goodness knows I do. I’d even like
to think I am right, but a moment of thoughtful reflection would confirm that
others are, first of all, entitled to their opinions and, secondly, have
perspectives based upon experiences which could enlighten or inform me. Working
humbly together, we might be surprised and find better solutions and make
better decisions than if we simply screamed loudly at one another.
Each of us brings something important to the table – our
experience, strength, and hope. So rather than trying to “win” an argument,
perhaps we should suffer the other to come to the table. After all, it has been
said that a burden shared is a burden halved.
Jesus acknowledged that others could be a burden. “Suffer
them,” he says. That includes us, of course. I can sometimes be unbearably insufferable.
But Jesus’ shoulders are broad, strong, and more than up to the task of
carrying us all across the finish line.
