Dear Theophilus,
I wonder what all this must have
been like for Jesus’ parents. Just think
of all the expectations that surround this child! You have his miraculous birth announced by an
angelic visit, and then other prophets continue to show up and praise this
infant. They must have put themselves
under immense pressure to keep him safe from harm, but I wonder if they had
high expectations about him as an infant, or if they believed that any
miraculous traits would arrive later. I
can picture Mary rocking the boy to sleep in the middle of the night and her
wondering why the Son of God couldn’t have been a more peaceful baby!
I suppose I digress—but I can’t
help but wonder about these things.
Don’t you want to know what the boy was like as an infant? Would that reveal more about him as a
man? Would it help us understand
him? I have heard other stories swirling
among friends and acquiantences, but I do not believe any of them stand up to
thorough examination. There is one tale,
though, that I believe might be true. I
wish there were more—there seems to be some sort of cloud over much of his
childhood, and try as I might, the information seems to have vanished. Maybe it’s because nothing was exceptional
about him as a child, or maybe it’s because none of this is true. I will admit to having my doubts when, time
after time, leads turned into false hopes, and I was left once more wondering
about how someone as well-known as him could have his entire childhood vanish.
Shouldn’t there be more answers to
my questions? Wouldn’t God provide more
information to make belief easier? It
takes such work to believe that this is all true—and then, even if one believes
all the facts are true, there is another jump to believe that Jesus is more
than just a historical figure. I would
argue that this leap is much smaller than the first, since, if one accepts the
historical authenticity of some of these stories, many of them are so hard to
believe that only a miraculous figure could be responsible for them. But it’s still another leap of faith. I do sometimes wish the bar were a bit
lower. It would make more sense to me
for God to write his name in stars across the heavens so that all might believe
and be saved. Perhaps it is because he
is not there.
But I digress from my earlier
statement. As I mentioned, there is one
tale from his childhood that stands up to rigorous examination. It is from the time when he was a boy of 12,
that awkward age when everything seems to be changing and manhood lingers just
beyond the horizon, but so much of a young boy remains that adults are never
quite sure how to treat the boy, and even the boy himself is not always so sure
how to act. The lines are blended in
this thin place of life, and Jesus himself was no different, although we could
look back and place much of the blame on his parents if we so wished. Perhaps raising a young, precocious boy led
them to forget the events surrounding his birth, or perhaps this was the first
time he truly lived into his core identity.
For whatever reason, the boy caused quite a scene!
His parents traveled to Jerusalem
for the Passover celebration every year, as many good Jews do. This particular year, Jesus’ twelfth, there
does not appear to be much to report from the Passover celebration itself. It is what happened everywhere that garners
attention.
After the festival, Mary and Joseph
began their journey home. As travelers
of this ilk often would, the men journeyed together and the women journeyed
together. I do not doubt that
rambunctious children, as those around the age of twelve often are, probably
bounced back and forth between the two, and between everything else on the side
of the road as well! Mary and Joseph did
not see Jesus for a day, but they must have assumed that he was running about,
that he surely was responsible enough by this age to ensure that he would be
among the crowd heading home. He was not
one to disobey.
However, after a day’s journey,
they began to be concerned. Perhaps it
was when everyone went to settle in for the night, and after all the children
had disbursed themselves to the parents Mary and Joseph realized he was not the
crowd, and that no one had seen in on the journey. Panic must have gripped their hearts when
relatives and friends revealed that they had not seen him all day. Surely the grew more and more frantic each
passing hour, and it was with anxious hearts that they made the decision to
return to Jerusalem. I wonder if they
slept at all that night—surely they wouldn’t have dared to travel the road
alone at night. But I know the power of
a mother’s love, and so it wouldn’t surprise me if Mary was in the lead, with
Joseph behind her trying to convince her to rest for the night, but his words
would have had no effect on a mother searching for her child, especially one
with the added pressure of knowing that the child was the Son of God!
It took them three long days to
find him, and when they did complete relief must have washed over every inch of
their bodies. You and I might say that
they should rush to the temple first, but frantic parents have their own
method, and I wouldn’t dare intervene in it!
When they showed up and saw him in the temple, he was sitting with the
teachers as though he was a lifelong student, listening to their thoughts and
arguments, answering them with questions of his own. It must have been a remarkable sight to see
this twelve year old amazing the teachers with his wisdom and his replies. They certainly did not expect a twelve year
old from Nazareth to display this type of knowledge about God, but they also
didn’t know the stories that swirl around his birth.
When Mary and Joseph saw them, the
relief that flooded them must have also come with some anger, seeing him
sitting in the temple, not frantic or concerned about the whereabouts of his
parents. They were shocked, and his
mother asked him why he had treated them so, especially considering that she
and Joseph had been searching for him for three days, filled with fear and
anxiety.
Had I given the same reply that
Jesus did to my parents when I was a boy, they might have turned and left me
there in the temple! He asked them why
they were searching for him at all, wondering why they didn’t simply come to
the temple, which he called ‘his father’s house’.
It’s a curious reply from a twelve
year old. It reveals some level of
understanding of his identity—whether that came naturally or if Mary and Joseph
told him, we can only guess. We could
explain it away as some sort of colloquial phrase, but I wonder if that is not
to make it easier on us, rather than closer to the truth. I would have loved to have heard the thoughts
of those teachers and others who had been with him those three days—did they
wonder at this boy for his reply, or were they too shocked at what many would
consider rudeness.
Mary and Joseph would fall into the
latter category—they didn’t grasp the meaning of his reply. Their anxiety had fully gripped their hearts,
and as relieved as they were, they had still spent three days in a panicked
search for their child, and it takes days to release the fear and dread that
comes with such a search. Mary and
Joseph instructed Jesus to come with them, perhaps with a twist of the ear, and
Jesus was very obedient to them following this occurrence. Mary must have treasured all of these moments
in her heart, and I wonder if she spent considerable time pondering this trip
to Jerusalem.
Jesus continued to grow, as teenage
boys do. He not only grew physically,
but in wisdom and favor, too, both human and divine. He wasn’t just another teenage boy, but was
clearly something special.
Just how special is the question I
continue to ask myself, and as we wind deeper into the tale, I think the answer
will only grow more complicated with each letter we exchange. I can only hope that this exercise is as
thought-provoking for you as it is for me.
Sincerely,
Luke
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