December 27, 2015
Jesus is twelve years old. The family had gone up with many others to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover.
Passover lasted eight days, plus the
customary celebrations. Always there was a great procession to Jerusalem from
all over the country, many villages represented. Parents all watched out for
each other’s children.
Joseph, Mary and Jesus always went
to the big holy days, with the reading of the Haggadah, and especially with the
special foods, songs, and customs of the Seder, which was the focal point of
the Passover celebration. As expected, Jesus, obedient, stayed with his
parents. The savory and pungent odors must have pleased him, even though they
were mixed with human and animal fragrances, and with the dust of Jerusalem,
ancient even then.
And finally it was over. Imagine
reassembling the caravan and pulling everything into order. The procession
resembled a huge family, so you knew your child would be with friends or
relatives when he was not by your side. Road dust replaced the Jerusalem
scents. It was a happy time, with people remembering the festivities,
remembering the earliest acts of God on behalf of his people.
The sun began to sink and families
came together for sleep. “Joseph, I think we should look for Jesus. He is
probably playing with his friends,” she said.
Little did she know.
No one had seen him anywhere. He was
last sighted the day before.
In Jerusalem.
Mary’s heart must have broken. What
mother on earth could not imagine it? Missing child. My child. Gone.
They scour the cramped city. Day
one, looking everywhere, no sign of him. They sleep an hour or so. Day
two, searching every corner, asking everyone, pursuing every trail. He was
just not there. Kidnapping, slavery, terrible accidents, and so many more
images hovered just beneath their consciousness. Just trust in God?
Day three. To the temple, this time finally daring in their panic to
enter directly into the utterly private rooms where teachers and Rabbis debated
minor and major points of scripture. No plain people were allowed there,
especially poor travelers.
But there he sat. Perfectly at home
for these three eternal days, the twelve year old. Questioning teachers and
answering them.
“Son, how could you? How could you?”
His answer was odd and we are told
that Mary pondered it in her heart for years to come.
Why were you looking for me?
Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?
Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?
Wasn’t this preposterous? He needed
a good spanking if he thought desertion of his parents was perfectly fine. But
let us ponder it, with Mary, and look into his future. He did not come to earth
in order to forever be Mary and Joseph’s child. Just the opposite. Mary and
Joseph came into earthly existence to prepare this boy for his role as the
adult son of the Father of all things.
Like every family, their duty was to
send their young children out from home as they step toward adulthood. In this
case, even at twelve years old, he was showing how God interacts with the
world. Go where love requires, prepare for real life as a real human being.
The future
was pulling at them. And in their case, it pointed toward events that would
affect the whole world.
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