A Reflection on Matthew 18:1-5, 10
The disciples asked Jesus a question that revealed
everything wrong about their understanding of the Kingdom of Heaven: "Who
is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?" They had been arguing among
themselves, each convinced of his own superiority, each calculating his rank in
Jesus’ coming reign. Into this moment of spiritual blindness, Jesus placed a
child. Not as a cute illustration. Not as a sentimental symbol. But as a living
rebuke to everything the world teaches us about power, prestige, and position.
When Jesus declared, "Unless you turn from your sins and become like
little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven," He wasn't
offering helpful advice for self-improvement. He was demanding a complete
reversal of direction. The Greek word for "turn" implies a 180-degree
conversion. The disciples were racing toward worldly greatness, and Jesus was
saying, "Stop. Turn around. You're going the wrong way entirely."
What strikes me most powerfully about today’s gospel is Jesus’ choice of
humility as the defining mark of Kingdom greatness. I once heard teachings from
Chuck Swindoll that illuminated this truth beautifully, he explained how
children embody humility not through effort but through their very nature. A
child doesn't enter a room calculating status or rehearsing credentials. They
simply come as they are, utterly dependent, completely trusting, bringing
nothing but their need and their open hearts. This is the humility that Jesus
demands of us: not the false modesty that says "I'm nothing" while
secretly hoping someone will contradict us, but the genuine poverty of spirit
that recognizes we stand before God as beloved beggars at the feast of grace.
The Beatitudes begin with "Blessed are the poor in spirit," and here
in Matthew 18, Jesus shows us what that poverty looks like, it looks like a
child who knows they cannot save themselves, cannot earn their keep, cannot
manufacture their own worthiness.
Our Catholic understanding of
today's scripture cuts even deeper when we consider what Jesus says in verse
10: "See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I tell you
that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."
How providential that we reflect on these words on the Feast of the Guardian
Angels! Every child, every soul who embraces this childlike humility, has
angels who stand perpetually before the throne of God. Think about the
theological weight of that statement. The smallest, the humblest, the most
overlooked among us have direct access to the Father through their guardian
angels. Heaven is not organized like a corporate hierarchy where you need
connections to reach the top. In God's Kingdom, the lowliest child has the same
access to the Father as the greatest saint. Today, as the Church celebrates
these mighty spirits who watch over us, we're reminded that we are never alone
in our journey toward childlike holiness. This is why the Church has always
defended the dignity of every human life, why we cherish the vulnerable, why we
see Jesus Himself in the face of the poor and the small. When we despise the
little ones, when we ignore them, dismiss them, we are not just being unkind.
We are trampling on souls whose angels behold the face of God.
Here
is where the rubber meets the road for those of us trying to live out our
Catholic faith in a world obsessed with achievement: becoming like a child
means surrendering our carefully constructed images of ourselves. It means
approaching the Sacrament of Reconciliation not with polished explanations but
with the simple words children know instinctively: "I'm sorry. I was
wrong. Help me." It means receiving the Eucharist not as theological
experts who've earned our place at the altar, but as hungry children who know
they need the Bread of Life to survive. It means kneeling in adoration before
the Blessed Sacrament with the wonder of a child who knows they're in the
presence of someone infinitely greater than themselves. The world trains us to
be self-sufficient, to never show weakness, to always have the answer. Jesus
calls us to be dependent, to confess our poverty, to trust in a Father who
delights in caring for His children. This is not weakness; this is the pathway
to supernatural strength that flows from grace rather than from our own
striving.
The scandal of today’s Gospel is this: the way up is down. The way to be first
is to be last. The way to find your life is to lose it. And the way to be great
in the Kingdom of Heaven is to become like a little child, humble, dependent,
trusting, and small. Every time we genuflect, we practice this descending
movement. Every time we say "Lord, I am not worthy" before Communion,
we speak the language of heaven's kingdom. Every time we put aside our need to
be impressive and simply come to God with empty hands and an open heart, we
take one step closer to the greatness that Jesus describes. May the Holy Spirit
grant us the grace to embrace this beautiful, countercultural,
life-transforming truth: that the humble child who brings nothing is greater
than the proud achiever who brings everything. That's the upside-down Kingdom
where Christ reigns, where His little ones are cherished, and where the
Father's arms are always open to receive us, not as we pretend to be, but as we
truly are.
©2025 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
