Let's Kiss Some Babies!

I live outside of Philadelphia, about 7 miles from this past weekend’s Pope-A-Rama that turned the city of Philadelphia like an upset apple cart with the visit of Pope Francis.  At one point on Sunday morning, the television commentators—who were covering every single movement of the pontiff live on television—indicated that they had counted 12 babies that the Pope had kissed since touching down in Philadelphia.  The number went on to soar well beyond that, and as it’s only Monday, I’ve yet to see an official count of Pope kisses.  Two words.  A. Lot. 

Anyone watching the coverage, either locally or nationally, surely saw what is plain.  This Pope has great curb appeal.  People lined up on curbs all over, just for a glimpse or glimmer of the Bishop of Rome—and they dangled children for his Holiness to kiss.  And obviously, as is often the case with Popes, the young and old, the maimed and lame, were strategically placed along the traveled pathways, where they too might be offered their own special encounter with the one who represents Christ. 

It’s never a P.R. stunt.  But it is. 

The one who represents Christ…, that’s supposed to be not just His Holiness, the Pope.  That’s supposed to be a lot more of us! 

Often over the last week, I was reminded either in the coverage or on someone’s Facebook feed that this behavior—of paying particular or special attention to the least, the lost, the poor, the underprivileged, the hurting, the sick, the suffering—is what Jesus did.  Over and over, as so many remarked at the Pope’s courage or his strong words, or even blamed him for the resignation of the Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives—the Bishop of Bishop’s influence was attributed to his determination to model Jesus for the world at all costs! 

And the crowds loved Pope Francis for it. 

But do they love Jesus for it? 

In the United States, politicians get the reputation for “kissing babies.”  It is a campaign stunt.  And people everywhere see right through it.  Maybe, that’s why when I suggest that those of us in protestant church traditions, and especially Presbyterians, would do well to start kissing some babies, that idea will get frowned on. 

But kissing babies is powerful. 

Not because it’s a P.R. stunt—but because it looks like Jesus. 

Kissing babies is just the beginning.  The problem is, of course, it forces us to love and accept, include and adore, people and ideas that aren’t always “popular.”  The Pope can get away with kissing dangled infants in a parade, or even hugging inmates in prison—he’s the Pontiff.  But when our churches accept poor families at the pot-luck dinner, or welcome drug addicts to the alcoholics anonymous meetings, we’re somehow conscripted by many as “enabling bad behavior” or “letting those people have something for nothing.” 

So these days, as many of our churches face struggles of diminished worship attendance and declining financial giving, we might reflect on what it is to represent Christ.  Our diminishment and declination has happened, at least in part, because we have not done well to replace the current ranks of members with new members.  We haven’t found new members who were interested in pursuing the old goals and strategies devised and carried out by our older members; and our unwillingness to change and adapt to the mission ideals of newer members has left us short-handed. 

I think Jesus faced these same challenges.  He had a loyal opposition known as the scribes and Pharisees—entrenched religious leaders who believed they had it right!  Sound familiar? 

But Jesus continually and consistently managed to step outside the box those leaders invited him to operate within.  Jesus could have climbed those ranks, he too could have been one of “those members” and would have been more and a different kind of popular.  He didn’t. 

The same kinds of themes are being observed when it comes to Pope Francis.  Refusing to bow to the loyal opposition.  Continuing to look outside the box.  Continuing to welcome strangers, sinners, the least, the lost.  Oh, and he’s almost universally popular because he kisses babies, the disabled, the afflicted, and bad characters! 

When was the last time we did things like that?  Because we represent Christ? 

Last week, I read yet another article aimed at suggesting to Presbyterian congregations how we might get outside the “box” we’ve created for ourselves by not recruiting and establishing new church members.  The suggestions were practical and worship-based.  “Don’t preach the lectionary, instead, use a sermon series.” 

I’m all for new ideas.  But I’ve studied church history and liturgical tradition and the lectionary.  I think the lectionary is simply “the original sermon series.”  But more than that, if we follow it—and more importantly, by it, follow Jesus—we might do better by getting out there and kissing a few babies!  And not metaphorically!  Maybe not just babies, either, but finding ways to welcome the least, the lost, the stranger, the one in need, the ones without hope, the ones who’ve given up—and offering them another chance to be enchanted by the one who calls us to live differently. 

At all costs. 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch, Havertown, Pennsylvania