Luke
2:41-52
Christmas
1
December
30, 2012
William G. Carter
Now
every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they
went up as usual for the festival. When
the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind
in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of
travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among
their relatives and friends. When
they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the
temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them
questions. And all who heard him
were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his
mother said to him, ‘Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your
father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.’ He said to them, ‘Why were you
searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’ But they did not understand what he
said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was
obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.
And
Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and
in divine and human favor.
It is the only story that we have
from Jesus’ childhood. At age twelve, around the time of his Bar Mitzvah, Jesus
goes to the Temple. His parents are returning to Nazareth, at least a three day
walk to the north. They have been in Jerusalem for the Passover celebration.
Luke says they were a pious Jewish family; they went every year. As they return
home in a great throng of pilgrims, neighbors, and extended family, Jesus slips
away.
And on the third day, they find him.
Here is how poet Thomas John Carlisle speaks on behalf of Mary:
I am your mother and I have a right
To be upset about your disappearance.
How could we guess that you weren’t with
the neighbors
Or with our relatives if not with us?
The Nazareth caravan was big enough
To keep you safe without our close
surveillance.
How could you do this stupid,
thoughtless thing
And leave me limp with frenzied
desperation,
A trauma I will carry to my grave?
The city isn’t safe for one young boy.
The Temple itself hides its own depths
of dangers.
A sword has pierced my heart, as Simeon
said.
Yes, I am shaken – and relieved – and
angry.
I have no oath or pledge as Hannah had
When she left Samuel to serve old Eli
And traveled home without him. You did
wrong
To scare me so – and I forgive you for
it –
But never again go traipsing off like
this
Without informing me of your intention.
I don’t want anything to happen to you –
Not now or ever. Are you listening?[1]
I think we can understand her
concern. We don’t have to be parents to understand her concern. When a child
slips away, it is frightening. You wait for the security guards to report it
over the loudspeaker. Or you buy cell phones to the kids when they are much too
young to need them. The parent calls, and even before she says, “How are you?”
she asks, “Where are you? What are you doing?” Because there is nothing so
terrifying as losing a child.
Mary says to her son, “I don’t want
anything to happen to you - not now or ever.”
Luke tells us this story as a way of
looking forward. The day will come in another twenty years when Mary will lose
her son. It will be a terrible day. The emotional sword will pierce her, just
as the old man predicted so long ago. Luke understands this as a consequence of
the incarnation. Jesus is born into a family, and one day he will leave the
family behind.
This is a wrenching thing, a
terrible thing. Those of you who have seen the brilliant film on “Lincoln” were
introduced to the president’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln. She was well acquainted
with grief. She lost two young sons to illness. Then her husband died. Six years
later, her son Tadd also died. She never got over those losses. Who could?
Luke puts a shadow over the story of
young Jesus. He tells us that the twelve year old boy went to study with the
teachers, to ask them questions, to listen to their answers. He had an
impressive grasp of the Jewish scriptures at such a young age. But his mother
was terribly afraid that something evil had happened to him. She worried about
him because she loved him – and this is what good mothers do.
Even so, when Jesus explained himself,
he gave his declaration of independence: “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t
you know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
Joseph just stood there, as always, mute
and awkward. Neither he nor Mary had a clue what their boy was talking about. Luke
goes on to pretty-up the tale, declaring Jesus to be perpetually obedient to
his parents, stating that Mary locked this away as a treasured memory in her
heart. Yet the fact remains that Jesus had pushed away from his family to study
the commandments of God. It’s a glimpse of what would later unfold in his life.
The day would come when he hung up his carpenter’s apron on a nail, sneaked up
behind his mother to kiss her on the cheek, and whispered “goodbye.”
One of God’s commandments goes like
this: “Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long.”
(Deuteronomy 5:16). Jesus honored his parents, says Luke – although his days
were cut short. The same kind of teachers with whom he studied that day in the
Temple would later turn against him and shorten his life. But there is no
question that Jesus honored Mary and Joseph. No question at all.
Yet as Jesus grew, he developed an
ever more clear dependence on God. A family can love you, but a family cannot
do everything for you. A family can teach you values, and it can distract you
from a higher allegiance to God. One day, Jesus turned to the large,
indiscriminate crowds that were nipping at his heels. He said, “Have you
counted the cost of putting God first, before all else? Are you willing to
carry the cross?” Then he spelled it out: “Whoever comes to me and does not
hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, cannot be my
disciple…” (Luke 14:25-28, paraphrased)
It is one of those things we wish he
had not said. It would have been so much easier for him to say that families
are always good for us, that parents are always right, that human relationships
are always healthy and intact. But Jesus was a grown-up when he said it. He
knew that children must be protected when they are vulnerable, but when they
grow up, they have to make hard decisions about their priorities. He knew that
children must be cared for, nurtured by love and good instruction. But the day
also comes when a child leaves father and mother, and cleaves to a new
commitment. The family teaches value. The family can teach what is most important in our lives. They can model
self-giving love, so that the children can go on to love others. Most of all, a
family can teach the central, life-giving importance of God as the One who is
worthy to worship and serve.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
[1]
“I Am Your
Mother” – Beginning with Mary: Women of
the Gospels in Portrait (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing
Company, 1986) 8.
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