Let The Little Children Come To Me

"Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'"  Matthew 19:14 (NIV).This lovely, simple sentiment is relevant to me again, after receiving it like a gift from my mother decades ago, because of the actions of my Church yet again.  The archdiocese of Denver is refusing to re-enroll two children in a Catholic elementary school in Boulder because their parents are lesbians.  The official position of the archdiocese is that, while God loves homosexuals and their children as much as He does anyone, the Church apparently cannot allow the children (!) of such persons to receive a Catholic education because marriage can only occur between a man and a woman.  People with a different understanding of marriage and family life, says the archbishop, "have other, excellent options for education and should see in them the better course for their children."  Indeed.  The kids are five and six.I’m not disrespectful of many of the rules and restrictions put in place by the Church as a part of Catholic life.  I understand the importance of the sacraments to the core of the faith, and I don’t fault the Church for guarding them.  But what sacrament is being challenged here?  What bedrock principle is being torn asunder by these little ones who want to go to school?   I wouldn’t ask the school to teach these kids differently.  Apparently their parents are, for now at least, comfortable with Catholic teaching.  The parents must deal with what the school may teach versus what their children will experience at home.  So be it.  I wouldn’t ask the Church to bend her view on marriage and family life to accommodate this family.What I could ask, as others appropriately have, is whether the archbishop has made all the parents at this school reveal their sexual habits to test them against Catholic doctrine.  But I don’t have to go there.  And incidentally, neither will they, because they'd end up with a terrifically small school population if they did ask and then treated the honest responders the same way they've treated this couple and their kids. Honestly- are we to believe that Jesus, for Whose Sacred Heart this school is named, would bar these two from attendance?I’m not a big fan of the popular and usually abbreviated “What Would Jesus Do?”  It’s not that I don’t think WWJD is a nice sentiment.  I just find the expression far too ambitious and outside the realm of understanding to just about any who would ponder it.  Even with the best intentions, I think most people who ask WWJD are really asking for some earthly doctrinal, pastoral, or pop-culture guidance rather than Jesus’ own.  I’m familiar with and respectful of the evangelical view that Jesus’ teachings, intentions, etc, are right there in the printed word.  God help me, but that’s not my view.  I personally believe that Jesus is divine; that’s where my lot is thrown as a Catholic.  But for the time He was flesh and walked among us, I also think He was a remarkably complex and sometimes difficult guy.  He did things that didn’t make sense to His disciples.  He was playing on such a higher level that, as far as I can tell, He had to be the Son of God just to put up with the weaknesses and fallibility of the group of working guys He chose to tour with- not to mention the lot of us who have followed those original 12 over the centuries.  So WWJD, while a much better sentiment than many that could replace it, is not one I find a lot of comfort in.Sometimes, though, it seems pretty clear.“Let the little children come to me.”  So said the Man, on the Judean coast tending to a large crowd, when his well-meaning but befuddled disciples rebuked the kids who rushed to him.  Jesus would have none of it.  In my mind, He opened his arms, laughed kindly, and let himself get overrun like he was walking in the door after a long day to His own kids and an over-excited Yellow Lab.  If I’m right, He let the unimaginable power He possessed flow gently to them in protection and healing.If I’m wrong, He was an incorrectly messianic, but otherwise compelling philosopher and moralist who drew crowds and comforted them, sometimes by embracing their children.  Either way, He didn’t ask about the sexual habits, or anything else, of their parents when He did so.  My guess?  He had bigger things to think about.