Question Authority

This past Sunday for our usual first-Sunday-of-the-month children’s service at Christ Church, our youth group took parts of our service. Thanks to Caroline Beermann, who lead a reflection with the children, Emma Scalisi who read the Gospel, Devon Franklin who wrote and read the Prayers of the People, and MaryAnn Murray, who lead the psalm and read the second reading. Thanks, too, to Suzanne Hughes, our talented youth group leader (who is also our very talented treasurer) who shepherded them in their preparations for the day.

It didn’t occur to me at the time, but the readings were especially appropriate for a young person to reflect on. There’s one line, which on reading the text for the first time it’s easy to skip over: Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes. Watching Caroline sit with our kids, I was struck by how important it must be for kids to see other kids in leadership—in the same way as it was important for me to have a woman priest growing up, to see that I could do that, too. Our kids need to have that example of being included in the leadership and witness of God in this church. Caroline had the authority to teach with them because she is a member of this community. We have something to learn from everyone. Caroline talked about how the authority of Jesus came from love—not (and here I’m extending what she said a little) from the power of institutional authority or worldly respect, like the scribes.

Authority is a tricky thing—I once had a bumper sticker that said, “Question Authority.” Of course, anyone who has ever been sixteen years old probably feels that sentiment at one time or another, but I don’t think it’s just about adolescent rebellion. Being a Christian is about trying to see how God sees, not how the world sees—and that means that status in the world is not of ultimate value. It can be nice to be successful in the world’s eyes, but it’s not what we’re called to do. In his letter to the Galatians Paul writes: Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant^* of Christ. (Gal 1: 10)

But we want to be nice. We want to have others’ approval. We want, especially, to have the approval of those who can benefit us. We judge each other. And so we might be more interested in talking to the well-dressed person at coffee hour than the one who looks like they slept outside. We want our kids to be friends with the “right” kind of people. We stereotype people, categorizing them by sexual orientation, race, gender, politics. I know I do this—I feel so strongly about the things I believe, sometimes it can be hard to imagine that any sane person could disagree. Do they have their heads in the sand? Are they blind? Or am I?

A bishop can be respected for his or her depth of education, or experience, or sensitivity, but God’s love is not any more present with those wearing purple shirts than with those wearing sarcastic T shirts or dirty overcoats. The Gospel is just as likely to be heard out of the mouth of a teenager as it is the archbishop, however many more resources he might have at his disposal to articulate them. The challenge to each of us, of course, is to listen.