Biblical Perspectives On Children In The Worshiping Community

The Bible presents to us as Christians a multifaceted view of children that helps us understand our relationship with God and challenges many common assumptions about the role of children in the community of faith. Children are a gracious gift from God, images of trusting faith and witnesses to God's love and hospitality in Christ. Patterning our view of children after these images helps the church become the body of Christ.

The role of children in Scripture is a theme that has all the richness and variety of an oriental tapestry with its contrasting colors, moods, and patterns. If this variety of perspective is not taken into account, the result could easily be a modest essay on the virtue of childlikeness. But the Word of God is far richer than this single perspective. The biblical vision of children carries us into the mystery of the human condition itself—its tensions, its beauty, and its paradox. In essence, the biblical evidence tells us that the experience of being a child is both a gift and a challenge. On the one hand, children are the privileged ones of God. Their simplicity and spirit of trust are to be imitated as the model of our relationship with God. On the other hand, to be a child is to be unfinished, immature, and in need of formation. It is precisely this creative tension between the child as a faith model and the child in need of growth that lies at the heart of the biblical perspective. The primordial instance of this tension is found in the relationship between Israel and Yahweh. The Hebrew Bible frequently describes God's care for Israel in terms of a parent-child relationship. Israel is God's favored one, the "first-born son" (Exod. 4:22). The Lord chooses this people above all other nations of the earth (Deut. 7:7–8), and brings them into birth as a true community in the Exodus event. The long journey through the desert becomes Israel's education. "Remember how Yahweh your God led you for forty years in the wilderness," writes the author of Deuteronomy, "to humble you, to test you and know your inmost heart … Learn from this that Yahweh your God was training you as a man trains his child" (Deut. 8:2–5). Because of God's creative act and seeking love, we can see all the positive qualities of a child in the people of Israel. They are dependent on the Lord and secure in God's care. They are filled with childlike wonder at his love. But there are the unfinished, immature qualities of the child in Israel as well. In a striking passage, Hosea puts these words on the lips of Yahweh:

When Israel was a child I loved him,

and I called my son out of Egypt. But the more I called to them, the further they went from me; They have offered sacrifices to the Baals and set their offerings smoking before the idols. I myself taught Ephraim to walk; I took them in my arms; yet they have not understood that I was the one looking after them. I led them with the reins of kindness, with leading-strings of love. I was like someone who lifts an infant close against his cheek; stooping down to him I gave him his food. (Hos. 11:1–12) This tension between healthy childlike qualities and the need to grow toward maturity is found elsewhere in Scripture. In a sense, it is simply a description of the human condition. The child is a paradigm of human growth. In our adult lives, we continue to confront this ambiguity and tension.

On the one hand, we experience our lives and ourselves as gifts. We know moments of surprise and wonder. We break through the routine of our lives to encounter spontaneity and joy. We see things simply and feel nurtured by life. On the other hand, we confront in ourselves the recurring problems of jealousy, inconsistency, and the dark feelings of resentment. We are erratic in our behavior. We pout in the face of failure. We complain at times of adversity. We give up easily or sell out.

The body of this article will be devoted to exploring the creative tension between gift and growth as an underlying biblical theme related to children. The Child as Gift The early Hebrews did not have a developed concept of eternal life. Their focus was on this life with its blessings and burdens. In choosing to follow the way of Yahweh rather than the way of wickedness, they trusted in the nearness of God to their lives and the earthy blessings of a prosperous life. One of the most significant of these blessings was the gift of children:

Happy, all those who fear Yahweh

and follow in his paths. You will eat what your hands have worked for, happiness and prosperity will be yours. Your wife; a fruitful vine on the inner walls of your house. Your sons: round your table like shoots round an olive tree. (Ps. 128:1–3)

The underlying theme of this Psalm is clear: children are a sign of fruitfulness, a blessing of life. Just as the earth brings forth its abundance in the harvest, so human love finds its abundance in the gift of children. Children are "?the crown of old men,?" says the book of Proverbs (17:6). They are the promise of immortality; the assurance that one's name will be remembered forever.

In the gift of children, the Hebrews heard echoes of the promise God made to Abraham: "Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants" (Gen. 15:5). Children were a living sign that God keeps the promises of God and that God's name would continue to be praised from generation to generation. The Child as a Privileged One of God Because of their fragility and helplessness, children become a symbol of the "little ones" of the earth—those whom God chooses to protect and to use as instruments in the plan of salvation. So true is this that Yahweh reserves the right of intervening directly to care for those who are without the usual safeguards of society. "You must not be harsh with the widow or the orphan," God tells the people, "if you are harsh with them, they will surely cry out to me, and be sure that I will hear their cry" (Exod. 22:21, 23). This same theme is echoed in Psalm 68 where Yahweh is described as "father of orphans and defender of widows" (68:5). In a society in which the adult male is the predominant religious figure, it is unusual that provision would be made for the participation of children. Yet this is, in fact, the case in Israel. The child is granted the privilege of participation in several aspects of Jewish worship. They share in the nation's call to prayer and fasting (cf. Joel 2:16). Their song of praise is understood as especially pleasing to the Lord (cf. Ps. 8:2; Matt. 21:15). In Isaiah's vision of the return from the Exile, the people are pictured as the privileged ones of God. They are described as an infant, who will be suckled and cared for by Jerusalem. What is all the more remarkable about this passage is that Yahweh is cast in a maternal role toward the chosen people: "Like a son comforted by your mother will I comfort you" (Isa. 66:13). If children fall under the special care of God, it is not surprising that they often play a privileged role in the history of salvation. In Scripture, God frequently chooses children as the first beneficiaries and messengers of salvation. Thus, young Samuel is chosen to be God's instrument (1 Sam. 1–3); the youthful David is singled out in preference to his older brothers (1 Sam. 16:1–13); and Daniel shows that he is wiser than the elders of Israel in saving Susanna (Sus. 44–51). When Isaiah announces the messianic kingdom, he does not speak of it in terms of a warrior prince, but in terms of a coming of a child:

For there is a child born for us,

a son given to us and dominion is laid on his shoulders; and this is the name they give him: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. (Isa. 9:6) Childlikeness What is the inner quality of children that most attracts us to them? Is it their need to be cared for and our need to reach out? Is it the innate dependency of their lives on ours? Certainly these are some of the reasons that make children lovable to God and ourselves. But there is another dimension of a child's experience that becomes a model of faith and human growth: the quality of childlikeness. This quality encompasses a spirit of openness and wonder before life. It speaks of trust as the precondition of all faith. It involves simplicity and the capacity of being spontaneous. When the psalmist seeks for an image of serenity and inner peace, he turns to that of an infant:

Enough for me to keep my soul

tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother's arms, as content as a child that has been weaned. (Ps. 131:2) To be childlike is not the same as being childish. The simplicity that Scripture praises is not a form of infantilism or immaturity. On the contrary, it implies a strong integrity and a spirit of uprightness. Yahweh points to this quality in Job. "Did you notice my servant Job?" God says to Satan, "there is no one like him on earth—a sound and honest man who fears God and shuns evil" (Job 1:8). It is this same simplicity of heart that Paul urges the Christians at Philippi to choose as their inner attitude of faith: "Do all that has to be done without complaining or arguing, and then you will be innocent and genuine perfect children of God among a deceitful and underhand brood, and you will shine in the world like bright stars because you are offering it the word of life" (Phil. 2:14–16). In the gospel account, Jesus points to himself as a model of childlikeness. In the context of blessing his Father for the "little ones," Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest. Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Matt. 11:28–29). The Child as Unfinished Scripture praises the qualities of simplicity and trust in children, but it also looks realistically at the limiting dimensions of childhood. It sees the child as essentially unfinished. Children are in the process of struggling toward adulthood. They are still immature in their ability to accept responsibility—thus their behavior is often inconsistent; their moods and demands often change. "Innate in the heart of a child is folly," writes the author of Proverbs (22:15). In a similar vein, Jesus quotes a familiar saying to describe the fickle response of the crowds. "What description can I find for this generation? It is like children shouting to each other as they sit in the market place: 'we played the pipes for you, and you wouldn't dance, we sang dirges, and you wouldn't be mourners?'" (Matt. 11:16–17). Of all the scriptural writers, it is Paul who emphasizes the unfinished, imperfect dimensions of childhood most strongly. He compares the dissension and bickering in the Corinthian community to a childish response to life. "I myself was unable to speak to you as a people of the Spirit," he tells them. "I treated you as sensual men, still infants in Christ. What I fed you with was milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it; and indeed you still are not ready for it .…" (1 Cor. 3:1–2). Paul tells the same community that they must move beyond their childish ways, just as he has had to do in his life. "When I was a child, I used to talk like a child and think like a child and argue like a child, but now that I am a man, all childish ways are put behind me" (1 Cor. 13:11). Because children lack the wisdom that comes from experience and maturity, they are not stable in their vision and commitment. Paul contrasts the mature faith of those who have "?grown up in Christ?" with the tendency of children to be capricious and inconsistent. When our vision has deepened and taken root, we will live a more stable life of faith: "?Then we shall not be children any longer, or tossed one way and another and carried along by every wind of doctrine?" (Eph. 4:14). The mystery of the Incarnation is rooted in the self-emptying of the eternal Word. In Jesus, the transcendent God becomes Emmanuel—God with us. John develops the meaning of the Incarnation in sweeping theological language that speaks of the Word in eternity becoming flesh in time. Paul turns to the cosmic Lord, the Incarnation, in order to explore the meaning of his kingship over the entire universe. When Luke writes of the Incarnation, however, it is not through theological language or a cosmic vision. Luke simply gives us Jesus as a child. He captures the wonder and mystery of salvation in simple images of Jesus: the child in the manger, the child presented in the temple, and the young man growing up quietly in Nazareth. In his youthful experience, Jesus summarizes the theme of children in Scripture. This is especially true of the scene in the temple, where Luke pictures Jesus talking with the doctors of the Law. In this setting, Jesus experiences the tension between his desire to do the work of his Father and the realistic necessity of returning home to Nazareth with his parents (cf. Luke 2:43–51). On the one hand, he is reaching out toward the independence and maturity of adult life. On the other, he finds himself still called to be obedient to his parents. It is this tension between the desire for responsibility and the need for security that describes the experience of growing up. At a still deeper level, this tension characterizes all of human life. A child is a person in pilgrimage. But then, so are all of us as adults in pilgrimage. The tension between independence and dependence does not end when we achieve physical maturity. It is an integral part of the human condition for the rest of our lives. Jesus and Children Jesus began his public ministry by taking up the preaching of John the Baptist. At first hearing, the words of Jesus appear to be a simple extension of the Baptist's call to conversion and preparation. But there is a radical difference. Jesus does indeed call for conversion, but he does so on grounds that the kingdom is here. It is no longer a question of preparation, but of realization. The most dramatic sign that God's kingdom has burst into human life is seen in the new relationship which Jesus has with the Father. Jesus speaks of God as Abba—a term of endearment from everyday Jewish life. It was the name that children used to address their fathers. It can best be translated as dearest father, or more commonly as daddy. Scholars have pointed out that Jesus' use of Abba is unprecedented in Jewish religious history, or, for that matter, in the history of world religions. It implies a closeness to the divine that was unknown up to this time. Thus, the relationship that Jesus has with his Father becomes a sacrament of the kingdom. It implies a radical intimacy with the divine—a relationship not based on God as Creator or King, but as loving Father. If God is Father, then the disciples are God's children. According to Joachim Jeremias, being a child is the characteristic of the kingdom of God (New Testament Theology [New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1971], 178ff). The expression child of God occurs only three times in the synoptic Gospels (Matt. 5:9; Luke 6:35; 20:36). In all three instances, the term has eschatological significance. In other words, being a child of God is not a consequence of Creation, but represents an eschatological gift of salvation. Only one who recognizes and accepts the kingdom may call God Abba. It is not surprising, given the context that we have just discussed, that Jesus would hold up the child as a model of discipleship. "I tell you solemnly," Jesus says to his followers, "anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it" (Mark 10:15). In John's Gospel, Jesus describes entrance into the kingdom as the willingness to be reborn as a child of the Spirit (John 3:5). The true disciples therefore are the "little ones" to whom God reveals the secrets of God (Matt 11:25ff). So insistent is Jesus on this that in the synoptic Gospels the terms little and disciple seem at times to be equivalent (Matt. 10:42; Mark 9:41). Jeremias points out three experiences which characterize what it means to be a child in the teaching of Jesus: (1) Being a child brings the certainty of a share in future salvation. From the outside, it appears that the little ones are dispossessed and without power. But they are not to fear. The Father has promised them the kingdom. In the teaching and vision of Jesus, none of these little ones will be lost (Matt. 18:10, 14). (2) Being a child brings everyday security. In his providence, the Father carries us like children. He knows what we need (Matt. 6:8; Luke 12:30), and his care for us is boundless (Matt. 5:4ff). In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus uses a striking metaphor to illustrate the kind of security that the children of God enjoy. He says, in effect, that nothing is too small for God (Matt. 18:5–14). Many of the Pharisees had explicitly prohibited prayers that asked God to extend his mercy "even to a bird's nest." They thought it was disrespectful to associate God with something as small as a tiny bird. In contrast, Jesus points out that God's care embraces even sparrows, even though two of them can be bought for a tiny worthless copper coin (Matt. 10:29ff). The message is clear. God extends God's special love to the smallest of creatures. If God does so for the smallest sparrow, how much more will God do it for the disciples of God. "Do not be afraid, you are worth more than hundreds of sparrows" (Matt. 10:31). In the heavenly world, which the ancient world saw as constructed in circles around God's throne, the guardian angels of the microi—the throne, the little ones, stand in the innermost circle, immediately before the throne of God (cf. Matt. 18:10). (3) Being a child gives the disciples the courage to submit to what is unpredictable in the divine will. Following the Lord does not remove the riddles of life; there will still be suffering and pain. But the disciple has the confidence of knowing that in the end nothing can destroy him or her. Suffering for Jesus' sake becomes an occasion of joy, because it serves to glorify God and is therefore rewarded by God (Matt. 5:11ff; Luke 6:23). Pablo Picasso was once quoted as saying that "?it takes a long time to become young.?" His words may be taken as a succinct summary of the biblical perspective on childhood. The Word of God, as we have seen, views the experience of childhood as both a gift and a challenge. Children are models of simplicity and invitations to growth. They are the privileged ones of God, who nevertheless stand in need of maturation. The scriptural evidence seems to point to three levels of growth in "becoming young." The first level is the childlike qualities of trust and dependence that so tenderly characterize an infant. The second level is the transition of a child toward adult responsibility. Jesus praises the quality of childlikeness, but he doesn't want his disciples to remain infants. This second stage is often marked with the turbulence and confusion of growing up. The final stage of "becoming young" is the rewinning of childlike trust and adult decisions to Christian love. In the growth from childlike faith to mature commitment, we are challenged to take charge of our lives and to clarify our values. But the paradox of the gospel is that the highest form of freedom is self-surrender. The highest form of responsibility is to become totally open to the Father. It is to return to the vulnerability of a child through the mature freedom of an adult.