. . . a little girl from the land of Israel . . . . like the flesh of a little child.
The story begins and ends with a child. It begins with the childlike faith of a child, a thing entirely natural, and ends with childlike faith of an adult, a thing entirely miraculous. It begins with a child made a slave by a general, a commonplace occurrence in that day, and ends with a general made a slave by a child, an uncommon occurrence in any day.
Israel compiled the stories of her kings after Babylon had conquered her. When she had no king but still had prophets she preserved the story of an incompetent king and a powerful prophet. Herded into ghettos on the banks of the Euphrates she told stories of the healing powers of the Jordan. Exiled from her homeland she told the story of a silly convert who thought God needed native dirt for a landing strip. Forced to worship God in the court of Nebuchadnezzar, she wrestled with the ethics of serving two masters. Perhaps most importantly, tempted to hate her conquerors she told the story of the victory of compassion.
Jesus liked this story so much that he put it in the sermon that roughed out the shape of his kingdom. (Lk 4.27) Scripture records that the congregation didn’t care much for it. But maybe the Master included the story to warn us that the Kingdom of Heaven has no monarchs on home turf, only enslaved exiles; and that love to our enemies wins where revenge fails; and that governments are bumbling, bureaucratic things never designed to serve the delicate dance of faith. And maybe a story that begins with a faithful child and ends with a childlike faith makes a good opening salvo for the One who will ultimately declare, “Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.” (Lk 18.17)
Children and Gentiles First,
Doug
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