“Of such is the Kingdom of God”

Pentecost 6

20^th July 2014

Revd Andrew Bain

Romans 8: 12-25 – the glorious freedom of the children of God

Matthew: 13: 24-30, 36-43 – the righteous will shine like the sun

“Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for revealing the mysteries of the kingdom to mere children”.

This is one of those weeks when the original sermon, which I’d written earlier in the week, has had to be abandoned because events have overtaken us: The shooting down of that Malaysian airliner and what’s happening in Gaza - terrible events, the results of human wickedness, costing hundreds of lives and most unignorably, the lives of children.

Eighty children in the airline tragedy, scores in Gaza – four boys killed by an Israeli missile, while playing on a beach, many more dying in their own homes or as they flee – hurried along, hand in hand, looking for safety, shepherded by distracted parents who have no idea where safe actually is.

These are the little ones whose angels, Jesus tells us, always appear before the throne of God. These are the children we have to be like if we want to have any hope of seeing the kingdom of God. These are the “mere children” to whom wisdom is given when the wise and powerful are blind to it.

The sight of little rucksacks bought for summer holidays, lying amidst the smoking debris, of maimed and terrified children lying in hospitals in Gaza, should move a whole world to repentance. We need to pray that these horrors will move some hardened adult hearts to turn away from violence, because the adult enemy you have in your sights when you launch a missile, in Gaza or Ukraine or anywhere else, and whichever side you’re on, is someone’s child, and God’s child – always.

This is creation groaning in travail, awaiting the glorious liberation of the children of God. But at the end of all these things, Jesus says, God will sort the evil from the good, sin from righteousness. His own resurrection is God’s seal on that as a promise to all of us: he will raise us up, beyond all our crucifixions, whatever burdens we groan under today, all that evil we don’t want, but we do it anyway. He’ll raise us up; there’ll be an end of it.

But for now, we need a wisdom that enables us to live in this world and still see the sunshine through the clouds. The fact that Israel and Palestine are locked in a one-sided war, that Ukraine, Iraq, Syria are all bent on tearing themselves apart, the fact that family relationships sometimes break down and they don’t heal, none of these – even then - make our world an evil place. Goodness breaks out still – like the story I saw this week of a young American Jewish boy who’s gone to Israel to protest on behalf of Palestinians, and say: “Not in my name!” And there are still childlike stories of joy to give us hope, like in a story I watched on Youtube this week of a Downs Syndrome boy, Tim, who’s opened his own burger restaurant, called Tim’s Place, advertising the best hugs in town. He says to camera: Food is just food, but hugs... Unless you become as a little child. The wisdom of mere children. The foolish wisdom of the Cross.

This is the wisdom Jesus teaches for surviving this world and not despairing, the wheat and the tares.  Yes, we groan; but we laugh too. Yes, we’re sad, but we rejoice as well. God loves this world of his enough not to just see the weeds, those choking sins both of nations and individuals – your sins and mine. Those tares amidst the wheat. God sees all this infestation of unhealthy growth in his world, but he loves the world enough not to do what he did with Noah’s flood or the Tower of Babel and sweep us all away, pull up all us weed infested human beings, which would presumably leave him with a very peaceful but very empty, planet.

It’s not that the weeds don’t matter. Tending the garden of your own soul, striving for goodness and love – he loves us into wanting to do that. Working for justice in our world, the same. Justice matters. We daren’t walk by on the other side. But living in this world for now; living with other people and with myself for now, this needs wisdom. It’s the wisdom of the little child who sees the world with fresh eyes and without either cynicism or  despair.

And so I’ll share what was destined for my original sermon because it still holds true: One of my favourite bits of simple wisdom comes from an American book called: “All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten”, by Robert Fulgham. He writes: ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. These are the things I learned:

Share everything; Play fair; Don't hit people; Put things back where you found them; Clean up your own mess; Don't take things that aren't yours; Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody; Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.  Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love, ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess. And it is still true, no matter how old you are - when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together”.

The weeds matter and there will be a judgement for us all, for our standing aside and not caring enough or even praying enough (we should be praying for our world from the depths of our hearts every day) – but, God’s judgement is always filled with mercy, because we’re children, his children, and he knows our hearts and he sees the good in us always. Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for revealing the mysteries of the kingdom to mere children – which means, to us.