Cultivating Character in Young Oaklings is a column that celebrates the good gift and the sacred charge to the people of God to participate with Him in nurturing the youngest among us—our oaklings—toward transformation into the image of Jesus Christ. As those who belong to the One who called children to Himself and proclaimed that “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Luke 18:6 NIV), we will explore what it means to invite children into Story of the restoration of all things, and how they might grow in Christ-like virtue as they take their God-given place in that Story.
One Sunday morning each year, in an act teetering on the edge of unfettered chaos, my church’s priests and deacons invite the children of our church to crowd around the communion table for the weekly eucharistic liturgy. As the shortest ones nudge their way to the front and the big brothers and sisters stand behind them barely balanced on tiptoe, the priests ask the kids what they observe (“Bread!” “A fancy cup!” “Are those candles real?” “What is that spoon for?”), and explain what it all means and how each element helps us to receive the gospel (or, in the case of the spoon, to retrieve bread that gets accidentally dropped into the cup).
Later comes the most glorious and nerve-wracking part of this once-a-year celebration: the deacons place the plates piled high with bread and the chalices filled to the brim with wine into several pairs of small, eager hands. These children stretch their growing limbs high above their heads, offering these elements to the congregation.
As the lower edge of tilting plates receive an upward nudge from a priest, an adult hand ready to spring into steadying action hovers near the cups, and the congregation holds its breath, I notice a little girl standing at the table’s edge. Her small, round face is raised in wonder, and her elbows are planted firmly on the table as she leans toward the Bread and the Wine. Where I come from, the position of her elbows would have received a raised eyebrow and a gentle correction from whichever adult noticed first. But I recognize in her posture not what manners experts (and my grandma) would have seen as a breach of table etiquette, but rather the comfortable assurance and settled un-self-consciousness of belonging. This little girl knows that she is welcome at this table, and that what is offered upon it is for her. As I watch her, gratitude for the kindness of the Lord of this Table washes over me afresh.
I hear the priest give the invitation as the children lift up the Bread and Wine: “The gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you and feed on Him in your hearts by faith, with thanksgiving.”[1]
Whether it is a turkey being lowered into the center of a holiday table in Norman Rockwell’s iconic Saturday Evening Post cover, a rollicking good time in one of the many depictions of the Feast of Bacchus, or a modest meal in Van Gogh’s The Potato Eaters, what a culture values—whether it be togetherness, abundance, convenience, opulence, honor, order, pleasure, or practicality—can be clearly seen in the trimmings and trappings of the table. What we do when we are seated around the table forms who we are and what we value. If our habits shape our loves, then a ritual we engage in morning, noon, and night every day for our entire lives—has incredible power to shape what we value. This is one of the reasons that mealtime is a central piece in the instruction of young ones. Around my family’s table, we are teaching gratitude, manners (though we don’t get too bent out of shape about elbows on the table), listening well, waiting your turn to talk, speaking graciously, looking to the needs to others, the joy of food’s tastes, textures, and flavors, the value of a good story, the ability to sit still, a love of learning, the richness of God’s Word, and the goodness of being together. My family’s time around the table shapes us toward our vision of what is good, and displays what it means to be “the Mellemas.”
In the same way, the Table of our Lord embodies and communicates to the people of God, young and old alike, what is treasured in His Kingdom: self-giving love, unity, remembrance, feasting, faith, gratitude, belonging, and—at the center of it all—Christ our Passover. Even the very name of the meal we share around this Table—Eucharist, which comes from the Greek word that means thanksgiving or gratitude—is pointing us to the posture of heart of our Host which He is renewing in us, His guests, as we gather at His Table.[2]
If “we are what we love,” as James K.A. Smith writes,[3] and our table-gathering habits have the power to shape what we love, perhaps this is why Jesus, on the night before He was betrayed, gave us not only words of peace and encouragement, but also a meal. Around the Table, God is forming us into a people who are at home in the Kingdom of God with hearts that love what their King loves.
My new column, Cultivating Character in Young Oaklings, focuses on the spiritual formation of children and how we can nurture their young hearts toward Christ-likeness. To be sure, transformation of character—the inward heart—is possible only through the power and work of the Holy Spirit. It is not something we can muster or force for ourselves or for our children, even with the most loving and zealous of intentions. However, we are active participants, not passive bystanders, in what the Spirit is doing in and among us. The work of the Spirit to re-make us and our children into the image of the Son by the will of the Father is worked out in the context of the shared life of the Body of Christ. In order to be transformed, we must first belong—to Christ and to one another, His Body. This grates against our independent Western sensibilities. But we were not made to be lone trees. We are part of an ecosystem, a forest of “oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified” (Isaiah 61.3 ESV). We need each other to flourish into the vision of what God has made us to be.
In the passage in Deuteronomy known as the Shema, Moses commands the people of God:
“You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates” (Deuteronomy 6.5-9 ESV).
The dailiness of these instructions have made these Scriptures an anchor for parents desiring to raise their young ones to “glorify God and enjoy him forever,”[4] and appropriately so! Parenting is, as author Wendell Berry writes, “a vexed privilege and a blessed trial,”[5] and our utmost diligence and dedication is required. But it is also worth noting that these words are not addressed to parents, but to the entire covenant community: “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one” (Deuteronomy 6.4 ESV, emphasis mine). The good work of cultivating the fear of the Lord in our children belongs to the people of God, together.
We also see from the earthy, tactile words in the Shema that we need shared sacramental practices that bring the invisible realities of the Kingdom Coming into the realm of what can be see, felt, tasted, touched, and heard. The youngest ones among us, who learn primarily through experience, repetition, and story, need to be included in these practices. As we invite them to participate with us in God’s given means of transformation—gathering at the Table, singing, praying, forgiving, reading, listening, proclaiming, receiving, confessing, repenting, welcoming, giving, praising, feasting, fasting, baptizing, serving, sending—we are joining with the Spirit as He tills up fertile ground for a sense of belonging to grow and for the character of Christ to take root in their hearts. It is my hope that this column will equip those who care for the children in their midst—whether parents or not!—to grow with them in wonder at the beauty of the God we belong to, and to create spaces and engage in practices in the varied realities of our day-to-day lives that help young ones cultivate the character that will enable them to receive with ever-deepening joy their place in God’s Story of redemption and restoration.
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).
As we journey together toward this Kingdom, let’s echo Christ’s welcome, saying to the oaklings among us, “Come! Let’s gaze upon the Lord together and give thanks! Come with us, feast at his Table! Let’s marvel at what He is growing in us and through us.” We can teach them to cherish the beauty and the mystery, the ordered tradition and the wildness of God’s presence among us wherever we are, as part of their inheritance in Christ, and affirm to them in countless ways “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus [our] Lord” (Philippians 3.8 ESV).
There may be stray elbows on the Table, little feet dancing in the aisles, and more than a few squirms and fusses and questions as we instruct and encourage and make room for these oaklings to grow. Our lives and our worship may be less orderly. But welcoming children into the life of Christ will be a fulfillment of the prayer our Lord taught us:
“Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6.10 ESV, emphasis mine).
To pray:
Almighty God, you so loved the world that you gave your only Son, that whoever believes in him would not perish but have eternal life: Pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of love by your Holy Spirit, that we may delight in the inheritance that is ours as your sons and daughters, and live to your praise and glory, through Jesus Christ.
Amen.
-A Prayer for God’s Love, from To Be a Christian
To ponder:
“Yet I find no difficulty in believing that the veil between the worlds, nowhere else (for me) so opaque to the intellect, is nowhere else so thin and permeable to divine operation. Here a hand from the hidden country touches not only my soul but my body. Here the prig, the don, the modern, in me have no privilege over the savage or the child. Here is big medicine and strong magic…the command, after all, was Take, eat: not Take, understand.”
-C. S. Lewis on the Eucharist, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer
To try:
Different Christian denominations have different practices when it comes to children partaking and participating in communion. In whatever way is possible for you, let your children get close to the elements. Let them smell the wine or juice. Invite them to run their fingers over the bread or wafer. Ask what they notice about your church’s celebration of the Eucharist. Share about a time when Jesus ministered to your heart in a special way through the Meal He gave us. If for whatever reason sharing in communion is not possible for you in this season, perhaps you could talk about what questions you have about it, or what hopes you bring to Christ’s Table.
[1] From the Order for the Administration of the Holy Eucharist, Book of Common Prayer, 2019, p. 136.
[2] For those interested in the etymology of the word “Eucharist,” this is a good place to start: https://www.etymonline.com/word/Eucharist.
[3] The central idea of James K. A. Smith’s book, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, published by Baker Publishing Group
[4] From the first question in the Westminster Shorter Catechism, written in 1647
[5] From Wendell Berry’s 1980 essay, “Family Work,” originally featured in The Gift of Good Land
The featured image is courtesy of Carlos Magno via Unsplash. We are grateful for his generosity.
Danielle Mellema is a contributing writer for Cultivating Magazine and occasional guest host on the Anselm Society’s Believe to See podcast. She writes about welcoming the kingdom of God in our everyday lives and experiencing the presence of the risen Christ in the cracks and crevices of our days.
She lives in a quirky 120-year-old Victorian house in Colorado Springs, CO, with her husband, four young children, and mini Aussie Scout. She loves reading and talking about books, exploring her wonderful and weird neighborhood, long conversations on her front porch, and recommending just the right local restaurant to friends (and strangers who did not ask). She is endlessly grateful for the privilege of receiving and releasing the gospel that heals alongside the wonderful people of International Anglican Church, where she serves as churchwarden.
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