Growth and Change

Scripture:        I Samuel 2:18-20, 26, Psalm 148, Colossians 3:12-17, Luke 2:21-52

Today’s Gospel reading gives us a snapshot of Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, experiencing every parent’s worst nightmare – being separated from their child.  I remember two times when I was separated from my parents when I was very small.  Once was when I got bored in Sunday school – one of the teachers had a habit of showing us pictures from Weekly World News about the bat boy or whatever, and even at that age I knew it was fake - and so I decided to walk home without having a clear idea where “home” was or how to get there from the church.  The second time time when my mom left me in the car while she went to pay for gasoline. She had forgotten to put on the parking brake, and the parking lot was on a slope, so the car started rolling away backwards, with me in it.  Even though I was very small – and was probably going “wheeeee” when the car started rolling - I still remember how frantic my mom was on both occasions.  Likely all of our families have our stories of having gotten separated from children in a crowd…..and so we can sympathize with Mary and Joseph’s panic.

Today’s reading from Luke’s gospel also gives us the only glimpse of Jesus between the time of his infancy and his baptism at the Jordan by John the Baptist and the beginning of his adult ministry.  Mark’s and John’s gospels have no infancy narratives, and Matthew’s infancy narrative jumps directly from the visit of the wise men and the flight of Jesus’ family to Egypt, as refugees from Herod, to the baptism of Jesus and the beginning of his ministry.   But Luke gives us not only the story of the presentation of Jesus for circumcision, also not found in the other gospels, but this glimpse of Jesus in the Temple at age 12.

Early Christians noted this gap and asked the question, “What was Jesus like as a kid?”  An early Christian writer tried to answer the question by writing what is known as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas [1]– a piece of early Christian writing that’s not included in the Bible.  Also, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas is different from another similarly named piece called the Gospel of Thomas[2], which compiles a number of sayings of Jesus, some of which are similar to what’s in our Bible and some of which are quite frankly bizarre.  Neither were actually written by Thomas, and neither are considered to be inspired on the level of the four Gospels in the Bible.  Both can be found using Google.  In the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, Jesus is a small child with special powers, but a child’s temperament, which is a dangerous combination – sort of like the old Twilight Zone episode with the little boy who banishes people to the cornfield if they oppose him, never to return.  So in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, Jesus makes clay sparrows on the Sabbath, and when the elders object, he claps his hands, says to the clay sparrows, “Off with you!” – and the clay pigeons fly off.  After this, Jesus has collected some water into puddles – as children would do at a beach - and when another boy drags a branch to let the water out of the puddles Jesus made, Jesus says to the boy, “You will be dried up like a tree”, and the boy was dried up.  Later another boy runs into Jesus, slamming into his shoulder.  Jesus tells that boy, “You shall not go back the way you came,” and the boy dies.  The people of the village come to Mary and Joseph and tell them they either have to take Jesus and leave the village,  or else teach Jesus to bless and not to curse, because he’s killing our children.”

As you might guess, we might find the Infancy Gospel of Thomas to be more than a little silly.  It tells us more about the writer than about Jesus.  There are obvious reasons that the compilers of the Bible decided that this writing didn’t make the cut, wasn’t considered sufficiently inspired or reflective of the Christian message to be included in our Bible.  If you want to read the rest of it, feel free to use the Google.[3]  In any case,  we are still left with a gap between the infancy and adulthood of Jesus, except for today’s reading from Luke’s gospel.

So today’s reading tells us two stories of Jesus, one when he was just eight days old and being brought up to the Temple to be circumcised in accordance with Jewish custom, and the other when he was twelve years old.  When Mary and Joseph were bringing Jesus to be circumcised, they meet two elderly, faithful people who have been waiting all their lives for the coming of the Messiah.  Even though Mary and Joseph would have been just one more tired, bedraggled couple making their way to the Temple, somehow the aged Simeon picks them out as the parents of the Messiah.  We’re told it had been revealed to Simeon that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah.  Taking the baby Jesus in his arms, he praised God, saying, “Now let me go in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation.”  After waiting all his life, Simeon finally received what was promised by God.  And then Simeon tells Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too." An elderly widow named Anna, who was a prophet, also recognized who the child was and spoke to others about him. 

Of course, we know the truth of Simeon’s words, and the pain that Mary endured – the flight to Egypt as a refugee, the rumors that would follow her all her days about the paternity of her son, watching her son leave the family to carry out his traveling ministry – and at one point when Mary thought that Jesus had gotten carried away with himself and tried to have him committed to her care, Jesus literally left her out in the cold while he was teaching.  And then, of course, Jesus’ arrest, trial, and death on a cross.  All these were like stabs to Mary’s heart, and yet she was the model of faithfulness to Jesus.

The second story about Jesus – the one about Jesus in the Temple at age 12 – may have been like another stab in Mary’s heart.  We’re told that the parents of Jesus went to the Passover, as they had done every year.  They did not go alone, but as part of a caravan – there was safety in numbers, and we know that the road from Jericho to Jerusalem was notorious for robbers.  Having performed their religious obligation, they started back to Nazareth with the caravan – but Jesus decided to stay behind.  Jesus decided – he was now at an age where he was thinking for himself, though not thinking with consideration for his parents.  We don’t know why Jesus decided to stay behind – maybe at age 12, the Passover feast celebrating freedom from Egypt touched Jesus’ heart in some way that it hadn’t in past years.   We are told that Jesus went to the Temple, and engaged the elders in conversation, listening to them and asking them questions.  We’re told that those who listened were amazed with Jesus’ understanding; he showed wisdom beyond his years.  And that’s where, after three days of frantic searching, Mary and Joseph found Jesus.  Mary said to Jesus what any other frantic mother would have said, “Why have you done this to us?  Don’t you know we’ve been frantic looking for you?”  And Jesus talks back to them a little, saying a little snarkily, “Where else did you expect to find me?  Didn’t you know I must be in my Father’s house.”   Of course, as far as Mary and Joseph were concerned, Jesus’ father’s house was in Nazareth, where they had been going before they discovered Jesus’ absence and went on this long detour back to Jerusalem.  But Jesus at age 12 was already starting to experience God as Father.   And there was a shift in the relationship between Jesus and his parents.  We’re not told “they took Jesus home to Nazareth”, but instead Scripture reads, “He went with them to Nazareth.”   There’s more of a sense of choice on Jesus’ part.  Luke wraps up this section of our Gospel by telling us that Jesus was obedient to his parents.   And Mary treasured these things in her heart.   And Jesus  increased in years and wisdom, and in divine and human favor.

We love the stories of the baby Jesus – the angels, the shepherds, the star, the manger.  And next Sunday, Epiphany Sunday, we’ll be back with the wise men.  But the baby grows up.   We can take some comfort that even Jesus didn’t have a picture perfect family, that there were moments of misunderstanding.  Even Jesus’ parents got separated from their son.  I hope this account can help our families raising children to be easier on themselves when things in our families also aren’t picture perfect.  It’s ok - Jesus’ parents didn’t always get it right either. 

We love the baby, but the baby grows up.  Mary and Joseph brought Jesus up as a faithful Jew – and from the words of Mary’s Magnificat, we can be sure she passed on  a passion for justice for the poor and hungry that stayed with Jesus all the days of his life.  But Jesus would develop a mind of his own.  At age 12, he was at an age where he could begin to claim the traditions of  his faith for his own, and not just as something inherited from his parents.   Age 12 is when many traditions hold confirmation classes – and someday we may have a confirmation class too.  Someday.  And in the Temple, Jesus asked questions of the learned elders – why do we do what we do? What does it mean?   We know that while his mother’s teaching stayed with him, as an adult Jesus would go on to reinterpret or in some cases even reject many of the teachings of the elders at the Temple.

Jesus grew up – and Jesus also calls us to grow up, to mature in our faith.   And with growth comes change.  St Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I talked as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (I Corinthians 13:11)  Many Christians never grow beyond a childish faith, never grow beyond the lessons they learned in Sunday school or confirmation class.  For an example, when I was very young, we put our offerings in church school into a little plastic box shaped like a church, with a slot in the top for our coins.  As a small child, I never questioned where the money went.  All I knew was that the box was empty each Sunday, and so I assumed our offerings went up to God in heaven somehow.  I was scandalized when one of the other kids told me, “I heard that the Sunday school teachers take the money.”   Of course, as an adult, I know it went to support the Sunday school, buy the booklets and flannel graphs and everything else used in a small town Sunday school, circa 1965.   As children, we may expect magic Jesus to solve all our problems – and some Christians never get beyond that level of understanding.  But as adults, we learn that life isn’t always so simple.  As adults, we can bring our faith to bear in understanding our life experience, and our life experience has a role in shaping our faith….those who have been through difficult times and come out on the other side know what it is to walk with God through the valley of the shadow of death, in a way that those who haven’t been there can only imagine.  The walks through the valley of the shadow teach us lessons and enable us to develop a durable, lasting faith.    As children, faith may be something just for Sunday morning.  But as adults, we try to connect our Sunday-morning faith to what we do and what is done to us the rest of the week.  For example, the story of Jesus’ family fleeing as refugees to Egypt, which we’ll read next week, may prompt us to ask questions about modern-day refugees – and, of course, one of our members, Isaac, came here from war-torn Liberia as a refugee.  These are the kinds of connections a maturing faith makes.

We’re told that “Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.”  May we, too, increase not only in years, but in wisdom.  May the hard-earned wisdom of our years bring maturity and resilience to our faith.  And, like Simeon and Anna, may we pass on this hard-earned wisdom to our children, and to our children’s children.  Amen.

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[1] http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/infancythomas-a-roberts.html

[2] http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/thomas-fifth.html

[3] http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/infancythomas-a-roberts.html

Logos

John 1:1-18 (Sermon from Christmas Eve Service)

Tonight we celebrate the coming of the Christ.   Advent is the season of waiting and preparation, and as we waited, we lit the candles of the Advent wreath representing hope, peace, joy, and love.  For us, Jesus represents all these things, and more.  And now, that season of waiting is almost over, as we light the candle in the middle of the wreath symbolizing Christ, the light of the world.

And so tonight, as we do every Christmas Eve, we tell the old, old stories, of angels appearing to old men and young women, bringing news of new life.  We remember that those to whom the angels appeared allowed their lives to be turned upside down to make room for that new life.  And we remember that there were those who resisted this new life, from the innkeeper in Bethlehem who told Mary and Joseph, “Sorry, no room in the inn for your baby”, to Herod, who by his murderous actions brutally but eloquently conveyed the message to his subjects, “Sorry, no room in my entire kingdom for this baby.”  And there were those who traveled to welcome the new life, the shepherds in the fields and the wise men from the east.  So there were those who announced new life, those who made room for new life, those who resisted new life, and those who welcomed new life.

In John’s gospel, we read that “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him is life, and the life was the light of all people.…and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”   What is this “Word”, that was with God in the beginning?  We usually think of the Bible as the word of God, but I don’t think John was writing about a big Bible floating in space.  Nor was it like some cosmic flashcard, such as grade school teachers use to teach vocabulary, floating out in space. What we read in English as “the Word” is the Greek word logos, which has layers of meaning.  It can mean God’s creative force, as when in Genesis, God said, “Let there be light, and there was light.” In Genesis, God spoke these things into being; God’s word brought these things into being.  In Jewish thought, this creative force is closely associated with the Wisdom of God, who is given voice in Proverbs chapters 8 and 9, among other places.   From the Greek word logos is derived our English word logic, as in the logic of an argument or the logic of an essay or the logic of a computer program – the first principles that set the parameters for everything that follows.  Or for those more visually oriented, we might think of logos in terms of a blueprint that conveys to the builders what a home will look like – the number of rooms, the placement of walls and doors and so forth. 

And so John’s gospel tries to tell us something absolutely breathtaking – that the Word, the creative power of God, the Wisdom of God, the logic of life, the blueprint of the universe we call home, became…..a baby, like any other baby, who cried, needed to be fed, needed to have its diapers changed, needed to be loved and cared for.   We’re told that the Word or power or Wisdom or logic or blueprint of God which created everything became a baby who needed everything.  And it would seem that key to this power or Wisdom or logic or blueprint is love, self-emptying, self-giving love.  It was through love that God created the universe, and through love that God emptied Godself to come to us in Jesus. 

Breathtaking…and yet, we see this creative force, this wisdom, this logic, this blueprint, play out over and over again in Scripture.  When God wants to accomplish something, God sends, not armies, but babies – to Abraham and Sarah, to the mother of Moses, to Hannah who became the mother of Samuel, to Ruth and Boaz, whose son Obed became the father of Jesse who became the father of King David.  And to the aged Zechariah and Elizabeth, who in their old age gave birth to John the Baptist, and to  Mary, the mother of the Christ child.   And so, over and over again, the Word or Wisdom or logic or blueprint of God seems to say that God’s actions toward us often come, not with force, but from a place of weakness and vulnerability, the vulnerability of love.  This may be why Jesus so often was found among the poor and marginalized of his society, as we are called to stand with the poor and marginalized of our own.  Those who nurture God’s messengers who come in weakness and vulnerability and above all love are cooperating with the Word, the logic, the blueprint of God. 

The Word of God is the logos of God, the creative force, the Wisdom, the logic, the blueprint, a creative force or logic or blueprint at which love is at the center.  So often we go against the wisdom, the logic, that blueprint, substituting our own.  We prefer armies to babies, prefer force and coercion to vulnerability and weakness.  While we may not act out of hate, we often prefer distance and indifference to love.  But God who is patient constantly tries to draw us back, as when we ignore the GPS in our cars and hear that word, “Recalculating” as the GPS program tries to get us back on course.   As we wander from the path, as we all do, God is constantly recalculating how to guide us back on course.  This is the paradox we encounter in Scripture, that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and yet his actions toward us are in motion, dynamic, subject to change and “recalculating”, fresh and new every day. 

And so we are called to welcome the Christ, who was with the poor and those on the margins, accepting those his society considered unacceptable.   We are called to make room for the poor and the homeless.  We are called to make room for the rejected, whether it be refugees whose lives are threatened in their own countries, or LGBT youth kicked to the curb by their own families.  We are called to make room.  We’re told that whatsoever we do – or refuse to do – from a place of love for the least of his sisters and brothers, we do or refuse to do for him.

There were those who announced the coming of the Christ child, those who made room for his coming, those who resisted his presence, those who welcomed his arrival.  And every day we take these same roles with regard to God’s continuing action in the world, perhaps sometimes announcing, sometimes making room, sometimes resisting, sometimes welcoming.  As we allow Christ to work in us, our lives will be transformed in ways that bear the mark of the Logos, the creative force, the Wisdom, the logic, the blueprint, of God. 

May the hope, peace, joy and love of Christ be with us all, now and in the year to come. Let every heart prepare Him room.  Amen.