I’ve had the opportunity a few times recently to talk about children’s spiritual development in a more academic way.
The slides for this talk are attached – both a longer and shorter version.
The longer version includes a clip from the TV show “Outnumbered,” if you’re into that sort of thing – to find out what that has to do with children in church, you’ll just have to read the presentation!
On Monday 25th July, I had the privilege of attending a study day with other Diocesan Children’s Work Advisors, led by Professor Joyce Mercer of Yale Divinity School, on welcoming children, and the theology of play.
My notes are below. I hope they’re helpful.
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The ways in which we welcome children in church and in other places – are they the same?
What are the frameworks in which we engage with children?
Much of current educational practice – focused on economic outcomes. Is this also the way we see children in church? Not as whole and complete people in their own right, but only as potential?
What strikes you about this passage? What word or phrase?
The Greek word used for “gathered” has maternal connotations, and therefore feminine ones. Jesus’s actions there affirm the importance and centrality of nurture, which was, and still largely is, considered “women’s work.” Jesus is raising up not just the child, but those who nurture the child – usually the women.
The word also has connections to the hospitality of Abraham and Sarah towards the angels. The reader would have understood this. Jesus uses a child to explain that hospitality, and anchors the child in “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”
Children in Jesus’s time were literally property – they were possessions, and they belonged to their father. They were the lowest of the low. Jesus was saying – “if you seek God, look among the lowest of the low.” (links to Matthew 25) This comes right after the disciples had been arguing about status and position!
What are the cultural norms about children in your church culture?
(Some of the responses: support is there, but the focus is on measured, numerical growth, more than nurture. Children are wanted to ease our anxiety about the future of the church, not for their own sake. We feel helpless, and like we’re failing. Children are seen as guests at an adult event, not worshippers in their own right. Children are there to be educated or entertained. Our words don’t match our actions.)
Mark would have been read mostly by village cultures of Jewish Christians in Palestine, not by Gentiles. The readers would have been dealing with three different levels of colonialism in their daily lives:
Under the Pax Romana system, in which strength is everything, the reign of God coming through a powerless young child and the feminine actions of Jesus, the lowest of the low, was radically counter-cultural. It puts the Kingdom of God essentially in conflict with the existing power structure.
With that in mind, look at the stories in the Gospels that feature women and children. What does this say to us about power?
These are not cute stories about having Children’s Sunday. They’re about overthrowing power structures, via the last, the least, and the littlest.
(Margaret’s own note: every canticle sung by a pregnant woman in the Bible reflects this revolutionary theme, from Hannah to Mary – “he has cast down the mighty from their thrones …” etc.)
Jesus is providing a counter-narrative to the prevailing cultural model of children’s roles: power comes through serving, family does not equal blood relatives, faithful discipleship means engaging in the struggle of the oppressed, and doing this brings new life both here and in the world to come.
In welcoming children, we are called to empower them and to challenge the power structures that oppress them.
In this new context, how can we tell what “welcoming children in church” looks like?
(some answers: they are related to as if they matter, their value is not contingent upon their utility, they’re allowed to have Communion, they are leaders as well as recipients, their questions are taken seriously, they’re not talked down to, they’re included and safe and helped. When children were asked this, they said: if there’s a place for us to run and shout if we need to, if there’s food and drink for us and not just for the adults. What also came out of this discussion is that if everyone else is welcomed – people with disabilities, the homeless, etc – then that’s a sign that children will also be welcomed.)
This is where we took a break for lunch! When we came back, we talked about PLAYING.
What is play?
“I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”
Play is part of God’s desire for us. It’s part of our vocation – vocation here meaning “living into our true selves.”
Play is elusive to define, but here are some signs that play is happening:
What happens if play is proscribed or virtual?
What happens if there are no big blocks of free time for something to unfold?
What happens to our humanity when we cannot play?
The opposite of play isn’t work, but depression. We have an innate need to enter into imaginative worlds not of our own creation.
So where is the Holy Spirit in this?
What is the Holy Spirit?
So what does it matter? How does this affect our daily lives?
Play is a way of encountering God. And it is a way in which children attend to their calling. Serious things happen in daily life – play doesn’t mean a lack of seriousness.
Children’s play often involves a triumph of good over evil. It enables them to:
In this understanding, the entire liturgy is play. We are rehearsing for our real death, acting out what God has done for us in the past and will do again, and being given a suspended, liminal space in which to manage the complex emotions of being human.
When we practice something, we get the opportunity to be good at it.
How do we invite children into that free space of playing and wondering?
The Bible gives us a world to enter and imagine. It gives us God’s vision of what the world should be. We are invited to play with/in that world.
Doing and knowing are held together – thinking and acting are held together. Integrate everyone into what the church is already doing, and create space for intentional reflection on it. Don’t separate theory and practice. Learn by doing.
Education forms and re-forms us into different identities (there are many Biblical models of this!). All learning is about becoming someone – it’s an identity thing.
Christian nurture: Formation of an identity within a community shaped by story and symbol. Stories and symbols make us who we are, they affect how we see and perceive and make sense of the world. This comes about, largely, through guided participation in practice.
How do we do that?
I’m working on my talk for our upcoming Storytelling training morning (June 11th at St. Luke’s, Watford – free! Talk to Julie to book your spot, by emailing youthoffice@stalbans.anglican.org.)
Storytelling is central to so much of our work, and we often take it for granted. We talk about doing it well, but how often do we pause to think WHY we’re doing it in the first place?
And of course, our theology of storytelling – our thoughts on why we do it – will inform our practice.
These are some of my thoughts on the function of storytelling as part of worship and Christian nurture. Of course, many people will have elements of many of these – they’re not in direct competition with one another. But which ones are most important to you, and why, will probably affect which stories you tell, and how.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Stories pass on meaning. Stories help us figure out the world and our place in it, the struggles of our lives, our relationships with one another, and – in Biblical storytelling – our relationship with God. With this theology, the story becomes a gift or a road map – something you equip the child with to help them through their journey. Central to this theology of storytelling is the idea that we each have to make that meaning for ourselves. We have to struggle with the story and figure out how to apply it to our lives. Storytelling based around this theology will strenuously avoid being didactic. It may focus on the struggles of Biblical characters, and of the whole people of Israel, more than their triumphs. It will seek to address broad themes, such as belonging, loss, and salvation.
Stories create a group identity. When you come into a new organisation, you hear anecdotes about the people and events that have gone before, and by becoming familiar with these stories of the past, you become integrated into the group. Storytelling that focuses on this theology may be focused on the stories of “the people” as a whole, rather than stories of individuals. It may emphasise the historical elements of the stories more than the mythical. It may focus heavily on the stories of the church since the time of Jesus, and on the saints, looking at the community of believers through the ages and our connections to them. Part of creating this group identity is telling us where we come from – part of what binds the group together is the claiming of our shared history. “This is who we are, because this is what’s happened to us.”
Stories create an individual identity. One place in modern society where this function of storytelling is very obvious is in fan culture. By claiming a kinship to the story – be it Star Wars, Doctor Who, or The Hunger Games – a person makes that story a large part of their personal concept of themselves. Storytelling that focuses on this theology may be very missional, seeking to change individuals’ concepts of themselves. It may focus very heavily on an individual becoming part of a particular subculture (like a “fandom” with fan fiction). A personal testimony of salvation may be important to this kind of storytelling.
Stories explain our practice, both in our daily lives and in our worship. This is rooted heavily in our Jewish ancestry. The Passover Seder is a good example of this – the night is designed to make children ask, “wait, what are we doing?” and providing parents with an opportunity to tell the Exodus story by way of an answer. This has become ritually enshrined in the Seder meal itself. Joshua leaving the stones at the edge of the Jordan is another example of this – he specifically says, “these stones are left here to make children ask why, so that you can tell them this story.” We see this in Christian worship most clearly at the Eucharist – in order to explain what we’re doing, the priest tells the story of the Last Supper, every time she or he celebrates Communion. Storytelling based around this theology is similar to that based on the group identity, but links it specifically to a particular culture of worship.
Stories tell us who God is. Think of how often God begins a discussion with his people by saying, “I am the Lord your God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who brought you out of Egypt …” The Judeo-Christian God doesn’t take authority from abstract philosophical principles, but from a relationship – and a relationship is built on stories. Storytelling based around this theology will focus very heavily on the character and nature of God, and his relationship with his people. It may focus on emotion and symbolism rather than facts. The nature of the Trinity, and the ways of knowing God, will be central to this type of storytelling.
It’s important to note that storytelling serves almost all these same purposes within FAMILIES. Stories of your parents’ and grandparents’ lives provide a narrative of where you came from and a group identity, and stories that focus on particular family traits (“that Wilson sense of humour again!”) help family members build an individual identity that includes membership of that group as a dominant trait. Stories of “why we always use real candles on our Christmas tree” or “why we always go to the same place for holiday” explain our practice. When family members form new romantic relationships, telling the old family stories is a key part of bringing that person into the group and making them feel like they belong. Storytelling in church is God’s family doing all these things.
Children's Ministry in St Albans Diocese 