Luke 2:41-52
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.
How many of you all still send Christmas cards … in the mail … with a letter, maybe, and pictures of your family, grandkids, vacations, and stuff? Old fashioned Christmas cards seem to be a fading tradition these days, thanks to Facebook and e-mail. You can save a lot of time and money and paper by sending your holiday greetings electronically these days.
We still get plenty of good-old-fashioned cards, though, which I admit I like, especially if they include pictures I haven’t already seen on someone’s Instagram or Facebook feed. Every year, opening card after card, reading letter after letter, looking at picture after picture as they arrive in the mail, I’m amazed by how much changes for people in the days and months between Christmases.
Kids come and go and change. Careers come and go and change. Marriages come and go and change. People take exotic trips, relocate, get sick and get well again. Or sometimes they don’t.
Depending on when you were here for Christmas Eve worship, if you were, it’s been about 36 hours since we gathered around the manger, holding our candles, and singing our hearts out about the baby Jesus – the holy infant, so tender and mild – as it were. And all of a sudden he’s 12. A pre-pubescent know-it-all, worrying his parents by missing his ride home from the big family vacation.
Of course, there’s all kinds of high-minded theological stuff we could muse about: how wise Jesus was or became; how Jesus, the “Boy Wonder,” amazed the crowds with his teachings; or about what it meant that he was found “in his fathers’ house.” But that’s being done in lots of other places this morning, I’m sure.
I always appreciate that this is one of the few inklings we have about Jesus’ life between the Christmas story and his adult ministry; between the baby in the manger and his life of teaching and preaching and performing miracles. The Gospel writers never give us anything about the many years during the childhood of Jesus where he grew and changed before becoming the man we meet, suddenly, at his baptism in the Jordan River.
This morning’s story from Luke is as close as we get to any of that. Like the pictures and cards and holiday updates we receive year after year, this story about Jesus reminds us that for Mary, Joseph and Jesus, life was going on behind the scenes and before and between the highlights that have become the stories of our faith.
Even though we sometimes forget it, Jesus learned and got lost and got into trouble and argued with his parents and had to grow up just like the rest of us. When I look at all of the pictures that come with my Christmas cards so carefully posed before Christmas trees and finely decorated fireplaces, I know there have been haircuts to fight about and clothes that don’t fit anymore and times when not everyone was smiling perfectly, or when the dog wouldn’t look at the camera.
And when I read the letters people write, I know there have been long, hard days at work that are part of every promotion. There have been tough days at school that are part of every academic accolade. I know there have been bills to pay and finances to manage before any extravagant vacation is possible. And, I know there have been disagreements and family fights and embarrassing moments that don’t usually make it into every holiday, year-end review.
Even though the good stuff is what we capture on camera or write down to send in our Christmas letters – or post on our social media where most people are concerned – we know there is an awful lot that goes on between the good stuff.
I thought about this Friday night, after our Christmas Eve worship extravaganza. So much time and energy goes into preparing for and planning those services, and I’m always amazed by all it takes to make it happen.
Friday, after midnight, when it was all said and done, and I was last in the building after Jeannie and Stephen Jordan and the Kuffners had turned out the lights, blown out the candles, and locked the doors, I felt that strange, holy feeling I get often after such an occasion: to have been so busied and filled up by all the people and all of that music; all those candles and lights and then to be so suddenly surrounded by so much stillness and silence is an experience. I don’t hate it, I have to say. It’s kind of a beautiful time to be in the church.
But, the highlight was over – captured in all of those hearts and minds I hope – but turned off and moved out and gone as far as anyone would ever be able to tell.
It took a lot to get there – so much planning and practice and preparation – and it was awesome. But how quickly we get back to the business of living and learning and growing until the next highlight worth remembering comes along.
And again, that’s what we find in this morning’s Gospel story – this moment between Mary, Joseph, and Jesus – this everyday, nothing-special, living, breathing, eating and sleeping busy-ness of life in the world. It’s as plain and powerful as a quiet church after Christmas Eve, because that’s where I feel like we find ourselves now: just back to life again – just back to normal – just back to business as usual.
And it happens in the same ways for you and me, doesn’t it? I talked to the Mike Long and the girls at the 11 o’clock service Christmas Eve about how Stephanie got called into work in the ER that night, after she had worshiped with us earlier. Merry Christmas! I know Elaine Thorsteinson’s Christmas Eve plans got de-railed altogether by a stay in the hospital of her own. I got my COVID-19 test results via text just after Christmas Eve worship, too. The results were negative, thank goodness, but a rude reminder, nonetheless, about the persistence of the pandemic that still plagues us. Bah humbug.
One thing these days after Christmas remind me of more and more every year is that the highlights are great and that we need them for inspiration and for the celebration they offer. But, in these days after Christmas – as things get back to normal, as the carols grow quiet, as the family and friends leave town, as we wait again for the next big thing – these are the days when we need Jesus as much as ever.
It’s in these days between the highlights when life happens. It’s in these days following the festivals when we risk losing one another – like you might lose a child at the mall if you’re not paying attention. And, it’s in the days between the highlights when we can get lost ourselves.
But it’s also in these days between the highlights when we find Jesus where we don’t always remember he’ll be, too – not just in the temple when it’s packed with people and poinsettias – but in our homes and in our hearts, in our classrooms and offices, too. We find Jesus between the highlights, not just in the picture perfect holiday poses, but in the day-to-day living that it takes to get there, too. And we find Jesus between the highlights, not just in the grand healings or the mighty miracles, but in the struggles and the stresses and the small victories of life and death, just the same.
What I hope and pray for on top of all of our well-deserved holiday hoopla, is that what we offer here – and what we know for ourselves – is the presence of Christ that lives not just on Christmas Eve or during the holidays or even just on Sunday mornings in worship – but that the story we share and the Savior we proclaim is the one who finds people every day, between the highlights that are sure to come, when we rest assured in the hope and grace that are ours, always, as children of God.
Amen
