Luke 2:  41-52

Who is This Child_December 30, 2018

So…how was your Christmas? Did you have a good day? Did you enjoy your celebration of the holiday? I had a very good Christmas, and hope you did as well. I find that over the years my definition of a good Christmas has changed. When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to open all my presents. I remember one year in particular, when the gift I wanted more than anything was a Barbie doll. These days Barbie dolls have fallen out of favor with some folks, but as a young girl I had no idea of any problems with Barbie’s beauty. I remember how thrilled I was one Christmas morning to open the package with my name on it and find, not only Barbie, but also several fashionable outfits for Barbie to wear, with accessories to match. I always loved those accessories.

Years later, as a mother with growing children of my own, I enjoyed watching my kids tear off the wrapping paper to find their heart’s desire. Now, my enjoyment of Christmas is mostly about spending time with the family. My kids are grown and working full-time, so now the best part of Christmas is just having a day together.

I hope you enjoyed your Christmas celebration. I hope you had a merry Christmas. But if you find yourself feeling less than merry today, that’s understandable. Christmas can also bring out feelings that are not so merry. For example, things happen at Christmas time that might leave us feeling disappointed. I’m not talking about being disappointed with the gifts we receive, although that happens sometimes. I’m talking about a more personal disappointment: a disappointment with ourselves.

I think it has to do with the way we celebrate Christmas. Some of the things we do at Christmas create situations where we might compare ourselves to other people and find ourselves lacking in some way. For example, maybe our decorations aren’t as dazzling as those of our neighbors. Or maybe the Christmas cookies we baked aren’t as yummy as the ones our grandmother used to make. Or we might worry, did our loved ones like our gifts as much as the other gifts they received? Christmas is a wonderful holiday, but the way we celebrate Christmas has a downside: lots of ways for us to compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking, find ourselves inferior.

For example, those Christmas newsletters that arrive this time of year might make us feel inferior: they might make us feel as if we’re not as talented, or successful, or just plain lovable as other people. Every year, one of my good friends sends a typewritten, single spaced letter, reporting all the wonderful events of her family’s life: a daughter’s beautiful wedding. A son’s successful career as a cellist in the local orchestra. As much as I love my friend, I sometimes think she puts too much of a positive spin on things. And I admit I sometimes compare my life to hers, and find it lacking.

It seems to be part of being human: we tend to compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking. This happens with friends, brothers and sisters, even husbands and wives. It’s not so common for parents to feel inferior when compared to their children. But in our passage for today from the gospel of Luke, Jesus’ parents may have some feelings of inferiority. There’s no doubt that Mary and Joseph feel some powerful emotions when they come upon their twelve year old son Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem.

By the time they find him, Mary and Joseph have been looking for three days. You might wonder, what kind of parents are they, that they could they lose track of him in the first place? That’s not so hard to understand, though, when you know a little about Jewish families in first century Palestine. Faithful Jews in Jesus’ time made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem every year. They traveled in a large group: mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and others traveled together. Usually the men were in one group and the women and children were in another. Since Jesus was almost a teenager, he could have been with the younger children and women, or with the men. When you know the way the family traveled, it’s not hard to imagine that it was one of those situations where both Mom and Dad think the child is with the other parent.

But then they realize that their son is missing, and they start frantically looking for him. They’re very worried, frightened. When they find him, their first reaction is relief. But their relief quickly gives way to shock, then anger. They realize that the three days of separation haven’t been a problem for him. In fact, it looks as if he’s forgotten about them. Jesus is completely absorbed in conversation with the learned rabbis. He hasn’t given Mom and Dad a second thought.

Mary doesn’t hesitate to let him know how she feels about this. “Son, why have you done this to us?” she asks. “Your father and I have been half out of our minds looking for you” (The Message). Her voice is full of hurt and disappointment. He should know better than to treat them that way.

Mary and Joseph were devout Jews. In their spiritual lives, the pilgrimage to Jerusalem was a high point, but for this couple from Nazareth it was also something of a culture shock. They are simple people from a small town. The temple in Jerusalem is a sacred place, a place designed to inspire awe and reverence. It’s not a place where they would feel at home. The learned men, the rabbis there, belong to a world Mary and Joseph can only admire from a distance. The rarified atmosphere, the theological discourse, might well be intimidating to them. They would never dream of engaging the learned rabbis in conversation.

Mary and Joseph don’t feel at ease in this world. But it’s clear that Jesus feels completely comfortable. So it wouldn’t be surprising if they feel inferior as they watch him, asking questions of the rabbis, pondering their answers. There he is, the boy they’ve fed and clothed and helped learn to walk. There he is, their boy, who runs and plays with the other kids, who no doubt gets into trouble as all kids do. But in another sense he’s not like other kids. He is very much at home in the temple. He’s not on the outside looking in, as his parents feel themselves to be. He’s in the thick of the discussion, sharing his ideas with the leaders of their faith. Mary and Joseph are astounded.

They may be wondering, “How is he ever going to be satisfied with our simple life after spending time with the likes of these?” It’s as if their son is playing on a team that is way out of their league.

“Son, why have you done this to us?” Don’t you know, this isn’t our neighborhood? We’re simple people, down to earth. Folks like us don’t hang out with the movers and shakers.

In his response to them, Jesus makes it clear that he doesn’t see himself as one of the “folks like us.” He sees himself quite differently. Jesus doesn’t compare himself to others. He has different priorities. He’s clear about his reason for being in the temple: it’s where he belongs. He says, “Didn’t you know, I have to be here, in my Father’s house?”

For Jesus, a relationship with God is front and center. His main concern is not how he stacks up compared to other people. His main concern is not how he can meet the expectations of his parents. Jesus’ main concern is his relationship with the God he calls Father. Everything he is, and everything he does, centers on his relationship with God. All his abilities, all his joys are gifts from a loving Creator. All his decisions are guided by the wisdom of the One who made him.

After they find him in the temple, Mary and Joseph head back to Nazareth with Jesus. Along the way they have a lot to think about. In the temple, Jesus gave them a glimpse of life as it could be if they knew themselves as children of a loving God. They got a glimpse of how it might rearrange their priorities: how a relationship with a God of infinite love might transform their hearts and lives.

Did Mary and Joseph learn from Jesus? Did they have the grace to learn from him, to be open to what their child might have to teach them? What about you and me? Are we open to what the young people in our lives might teach us? Could we learn from young people: both the kids we raise at home and the ones we know outside the home? As adults, we tend to concentrate on what we have to teach the next generation. But could we also be on the lookout for what we might learn from them?

Some years ago Will Willimon, a bishop in the United Methodist Church, had a powerful learning experience, thanks to one of his children. At the time Willimon was pastor of a church. He recalls one cold Christmas Eve, rushing his family to get in the car. They were running late for the Christmas Eve communion service. On the way to church, rushing through the traffic, their 5-year-old daughter, Harriet, got sick to her stomach and threw up all over the car.

“Great!” Willimon thought to himself. “If people only knew what preachers go through.” He wheeled into the church parking lot and jumped out of the car, leaving his wife, Patsy, to clean up the car and get the kids into church. He thought, “If only people knew what preachers’ spouses go through.”

Patsy led Harriet and her older brother William into the church. The little girl was still unsteady and pale. They sat in the back pew in the darkness, in case Harriet got sick again. William, who was seven years old, ran down to sit in front with his grandparents. Pastor Willimon threw on his robe and hurried to join the choir for the processional. He made it through the first part of the service, and the sermon. Then came Holy Communion.

In the Methodist tradition, people come forward to the altar rail for communion. Patsy came forward, but she left little Harriet in the back pew. The girl was still very pale and weak. William came forward with his grandparents, and returned to the pew with them. Then seven year old William did something astounding. He got back up and came back to the communion rail.

Pastor Willimon wondered, “What on earth is he doing? He’s already received communion once. What is he up to?” He watched the young boy race to the back of the church and scoot along the pew to his sister. The boy opened his hands to reveal a small piece of bread. “Harriet,” he said, “This is the body of Christ, given for you.”
Without hesitation, Harriet picked the bread out of her brother’s hand, put it in her mouth, and said, “Amen.” He patted her on the head, then turned and ran back down to the front of the church to re-join his grandparents (The Christian Ministry, July-August 1989, p. 47).

In that moment, Willimon remembers, Holy Communion had never been more holy, and he and his wife had never been more humble. On that day, the learned preacher and his wife learned something from their young son. They saw the love of Christ in him when he shared Holy Communion with his little sister.

As Mary and Joseph headed back to Nazareth, did they learn from Jesus? Did they have the grace to learn from him, to be open to what their child might have to teach them? Are you and I open to what the kids in our lives might have to teach us? Can we be on the lookout for what we might learn from them?

Rev. Elva Merry Pawle
December 30, 2018
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