Jesus sat downto teach , called the Twelve, and told them,“If anyone wants to be in first place, they’ll instead be last of all, and minister to all.” A servant boy stood in the middle of them. Hugging this servant boy, Jesus told them,
“Whoever welcomes such a child, in my name, welcomes me. Whoever welcomes me, doesn’t welcome me but the One who sent me.”
Jesus’s warning that striving to be first in the Kingdom will put us last, is connected with the statement he made next: If you eagerly accept children into your group of Christians—i.e. your church—you’ve accepted Jesus, and through Jesus the Father.
Christians nowadays don‘t really get this lesson because we translate the word pedíon as “little boy,” and assume Jesus is talking about permitting children into our churches. Which we do—we have all sorts of children’s ministries—so no problem. But in context, it doesn’t make a lot of sense for Jesus to leap from a discussion about first and last place, and suddenly talk about accepting children into your group. Preachers have tried to make these ideas fit together by claiming Jesus’s culture didn’t value children, but that’s the Greco-Roman culture, not the Jewish one: We know from the Old Testament the Hebrews highly valued their children. So welcoming kids wasn’t an issue for the Jews. But welcoming servants was another deal.
In many cultures, it’s the custom to refer to servants as if they’re children: “Come here, boy.” Waiters in French restaurants are still called garçon/“boy.” In the United States, this practice became connected with racism and sexism, so as we’re getting rid of these things, we’re likewise getting get rid of the practice of calling our employees “my boy” or “my girl.” But it’s always been around. In Jesus’s day, servants were called by the Aramaic word talyá/“boy.” Translated into Greek, that’d be pedíon, the word Mark used.
So as Jesus was talking with his students about first place and last place, he borrowed someone who was already considered in last place: A servant. We have no idea whether that servant worked at that house, but if they were staying at Zavdi’s house, it’s entirely possible: Zavdi had employees, (Mk 1.20) and some of them were likely house servants. But it’s also possible that among Jesus’s followers were some servants who, in their few off hours, followed and listened to him.
While his students were debating which of them was greatest, Jesus hugged this servant—yeah, “hugged” is a literal translation of enankalisámenos—and told them,
For Jesus identifies with servants. He’s a servant, sent by God to minister to us. This fact he immediately pointed out:
And in his church, Jesus doesn’t want there to be any caste system which puts one group of people at the top, and another at the bottom. Servants and service workers must be accepted just the same as the wealthy, the leisure class, retirees, and anyone else who has the luxury of not having to work very hard, or who can easily get all their needs met. In fact, the well-off are in greater danger of falling away from Jesus, because they can easily start to trust their wealth more than God: They need to see what servants go through, so they can empathize with them and stay grounded. (And sometimes help.) The Kingdom runs on grace, and the service workers often depend on a lot more grace—and can therefore grant a lot more of it—than most. They’re far more likely candidates for being first in the Kingdom. So it’s good to be around them—and it’s not a bad idea to pitch in at your church, and become one of them.