I’ve recently been following an Internet discussion on the question, “Should dogs be allowed in churches?” This was started by someone who had wanted to wander round Norwich Cathedral with their dog in tow but was firmly told, “You can’t bring him in here”.

This question provoked some strong reactions! Was there a difference, for instance, between bringing a dog into a cathedral for a look-around and bringing one to a service? Was it reasonable to expect dog-owners to tie up their pets outside, with the worry that they might be stolen? Most contributors agreed that assistance dogs posed no problem; but what about other dogs whose owners are emotionally dependent on them? Some folk said that they had a phobia of dogs after bad experiences when they were children, some were allergic to dog hair so can’t go near them, some were concerned that a normally-placid dog might take fright and n bite someone, some had poor eyesight and worried that they’d fail to see a dog and trip over it, others didn’t care for dog slobber – and so on.

Up to this point the conversation had been fairly civilised. But someone then made the comment, “Well, I’d rather have a well-behaved dog in church than screaming children running all over the place” – and the fur really began to fly! Points were raised about the basic natures of dogs and children, over the responsibilities of dog-owners and parents, over the relative rights of animals and small people. It soon became clear that, for some folk, children were basically not welcome in church unless they could be “seen and not heard”, possibly not even that: they must certainly not be allowed to disturb the quiet reverence of services! So we need, as so often, to ask the question, “What would Jesus have said?” The two cameos we’ve read this morning could give us an answer.

I’m sure we’ve all seen romanticised and sentimental pictures of an impossibly handsome Jesus surrounded by angelic children and cradling a baby who is gazing up at him with adoration. Well, Jesus was a Palestinian Jew, not a member of Abba! And I’m sure that the children who were brought to him were the usual motley mixture of well-behaved and quiet ones to others who chattered constantly and never kept still! More seriously, as we come to this story we need to ask ourselves how children were regarded in Jesus’ day – after all, our own notions of childhood are actually fairly recent (probably Victorian) in origin; it’s less than two centuries since children aged 6 or 7 were sent down Britain’s mines or into our factories to do a gruelling day’s work (as they still sadly do in the sweatshops of Asia and elsewhere). In other words we can’t assume that Jesus’ contemporaries thought of children in the same way that we do. And they didn’t.

Now I’m sure that children were loved just as much as they are today. But we need to remember that society in those days was strongly patriarchal – that is, everyone in a household was defined by their relation to the man at its head. We must also remember that men held the power in religious matters; and that most, if not all, of the Bible was written by men. So what it says about children is mostly couched in terms of how they should relate to their parents, with obedience – following the Fifth Commandment – at the top of the list. We know that boys were favoured over girls – which is still, of course, the case in many societies today. I also suspect (but I’m not entirely sure) that the care of small children was seen as part of home-making, a woman’s task. Men had more important things to do with their time!

So, when children were brought to Jesus (we’re not told who did the bringing) and then rebuffed by his disciples, those disciples thought they were doing the right thing by protecting him although it wasn’t actually their place, as his students, to do so. How dare people think that an important man like Jesus would want to have anything to do with kids? Jesus, however, was having none of it: “No”, he cried, “Don’t stop them! Let them come!” – his rebuke was so sharp that the disciples. must have been startled. For Jesus is clear: he wants these children to approach him; and he then goes further and does something which I think would have then been considered unmanly (and might today even be regarded as a safeguarding issue): he takes them in his arms.

Why does Jesus do this, and what does he mean by it? Well, at the very least it seems to say that Jesus – who of course was unmarried and childless himself – liked children and didn’t regard them as little urchins who simply had to be “suffered”. I’d also suggest that it says something about Jesus valuing children in their own right and seeing them as precious and individual human beings – they were more than just their fathers’ progeny. But, of course, there’s something more explicit here; for, as Jesus holds the children for all to see, he declares, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” – a slap in the face for anyone who might think that status or intelligence are what get us into God’s Kingdom. And in the previous chapter Jesus has said something even bolder: “‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me [and] the one who sent me” – which logically implies that people who have no time for children are actually rejecting Jesus and his Father. We wouldn’t want to do that – would we?

There are two sentiments and thoughts about children and churches which I’ve heard innumerable times over the years. One is people saying, “We want to see families in our church” or “We want a thriving Sunday School like we used to have”. The problem is that many people who say that value their traditions and aren’t prepared to make even the slightest change to the way they do things. So young families who do turn up find a style of service that seems frozen in time and completely alien to modern life, language and music; even worse, parents sit on tenterhooks (and you thought pews were bad enough!) because they know that the slightest squeak from their children will make people turn round and glare at them or start ostentatiously tutting and shushing!

The other statement I’ve heard is that “children are the Church of tomorrow”. Now there is obviously truth in that, as we all hope that our children will outlive us and carry forward the torch of faith. (Sadly we also know that many children of Christian parents do not follow in their spiritual footsteps). But that statement is also wrong, as I profoundly believe that children are part of today’s Church as well. Yes, they’re young, they may not yet have much Christian understanding (though sometimes their grasp of faith will amaze us), they aren’t mature adult disciples. Nevertheless our Bible passages show that Jesus welcomes children: while grown-ups might sideline them or shoo them away, he includes them in his family of faith. Some historians argue that this has been the normal position for most of the Church throughout its history: things only changed at the Reformation with its emphasis on teaching the faith so that people could understand it better. That was clearly a good thing; but it had the unintended consequence of separating adults from children so they could each learn at their own level.

We can take this point further. Some theologians have suggested that, because they are relatively innocent and have not yet learned adult ways, children can show us all what it is to be truly human – which is what God intends for every one of us. Young people shouldn’t therefore be regarded as future or “junior” members of the church, but as full members; not as disciples in training, but simply as disciples. After all, Jesus calls his disciples to “change and become like little children” in order to enter his Kingdom. In the Church they can show us the way.

So how does this work out in practice? A paper presented at Aberdeen University last year says that “Churches should adopt a default position of making the whole of church life intentionally intergenerational, except when there is a significant and justifiable reason not to … This is not a programme, not another activity to be added to church life. Instead, it is a paradigmatic understanding which shapes all aspects of church life”. That’s pretty fancy language for a Sunday morning; so let me simplify: the writer means that churches need to adopt a mindset which includes children and young people in all they do, except when it’s inappropriate. That includes worship – the writer of that paper was horrified to discover that only 6% of children in Church of Scotland churches attend Holy Communion; it also includes decision-making – how often do churches bother to ask children for their opinions? We must remember that what young people experience in church today will have a great effect on how they think of the faith in later years.

I have to say that this church is better than most in the way it thinks about young people. When we were first introduced to you, Moira and I were delighted to discover that they have been taking Communion for years as we simply can’t see why they should be left out of a family meal. We were even more thrilled that a “children’s panel” took centre stage at the question-and-answer session we had on the Sunday back in 2016 when I came to “preach with a view” – even though I had no idea what they meant when they asked if I liked “bopping”! We are pleased too that adults and young people take part together in many events (at least in normal times), from Panto to Fairs to Holiday Clubs. But can we go further? – by which I do not mean that children should be allowed to run wild or rule the roost! I honestly don’t know, though one suggestion was made at Church Meeting on Thursday, which is to ask young people to share in welcoming people at the door on Sunday mornings.

But is there more? Should we be thinking about ways of including them more in our discussions and decision-making? Mind you, I don’t know how that could be done, as church meetings aren’t exactly exciting! Should we be changing the way we worship; or (gasp! horror!) have more frequent all-age services – not that they’re easy to prepare; and we all know that some adults don’t attend because they don’t like them (which I think is a crying shame). And perhaps there is one simple thing which we can all do from time to time, although Covid restrictions have made this difficult in recent months: simply to talk to our children and young people before and after services, rather than leaving them to their own devices. We may be reluctant to do this – but they don’t bite (much!).

About 10 years ago the Church of England published a report which recognised how hard it is to be a child today, and how children are far more aware of the wider world than they used to be – we only have to think of last year’s climate change “school strikes” to realise that. In the light of this, the report called for churches to think seriously about the many ways in which they interact with children. That report was called “Children in the way” – and, since I’ve never read it, I don’t know if that title was intended to be ambiguous or not! But it does pose a very important question about how we think of children and young people in our churches: are they “in the way”, stopping us adults doing the things we want to do, or even a bit of a nuisance to be tolerated? Or are they to be guided “into the way” of discipleship – what, I’m sure, is what Jesus would want. He lovingly welcomed children; we should do the same.