Since Luke is the only Gospel writer who includes this story in his narrative, we must be curious about his motive in telling it.  And as the story unfolds we can locate at least three themes that will be important to him throughout his Gospel account of Jesus’ life and ministry.  These themes might be identified as (1)the importance of the Temple in Jesus’ life, (2)Jesus’ definition of “family,” and (3)Jesus’ authority as a teacher of God’s Word.  It is good to consider each of these budding themes on this first Sunday after Christmas when we are already on the move with the Jesus story after his birth.

First, then, the importance of the Temple in Jesus’ life.  We know that Luke wants us to understand from the beginning that the Temple was an important locus of activity for Jesus’ family because Luke alone tells the story of the presentation of Jesus in the Temple when the baby was only eight days old.  This practice of dedication was common among devout Jews in Jesus’ time, as it remains so today.  Following Jesus’ ritual circumcision, and as part of Mary’s purification following childbirth, the infant Jesus was presented to God in the Temple.  And what we remember particularly about this dedicatory presentation is that Simeon and Anna, two aged persons who seem to represent the yearning of the Jewish people for the Messiah, both recognize in Jesus the destiny that lies before him. 

Their message is troubling, actually, for they see in the infant Jesus not only “a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel,” as Simeon declares, but also, as he says to a somewhat perplexed mother 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.”  We can only imagine what Mary must have felt in hearing those words. 

Mary really didn’t have an easy life as a mother, did she?  So much to ponder and to experience, beginning with the announcement of the angel Gabriel that she, an unmarried young woman, would be called to risk bearing a child in a culture that would bring her shame and even the threat of death; through the difficulty of giving birth in a time and place that afforded only a cattle stall for her labor; and, finally, the image we have of her at the foot of the cross, bent and broken, weeping at the feet of her murdered son.  It wasn’t easy being the mother of Jesus, was it?

And today’s story is itself a precursor to some of the trouble that awaits the family along the way.  In today’s story Jesus returns to the Temple with his family for one of the three annual pilgrim festivals described in Torah and prescribed for all devout Jews – the observance of Passover – and, as in the story of Jesus’ infancy, the Temple would be the place where people other than his parents see something in him that his parents do not.  And in this way the story speaks so directly to us, I think.

During the Nativity pageant this past Christmas Eve, after one of the children of our congregation had read the selection of Scripture assigned to him, someone leaned over to me and said, “That child is destined for something.”  And, in truth, I had already felt that myself for the boy had brought something to his reading that astonished me.  I was amazed at the clarity with which I heard those timeless words through the voice of a child.  I surely don’t know his destiny, but I sensed in that moment something quite powerful.  And what I hope is that his and other parents can profit from the reminder that there are other adults in the community of faith who recognize something special in their children even when they might have their own difficulties day to day at home.

Isn’t that recognition and affirmation at the heart of our youth ministry here and in other congregations around this land today – not just in the Temple in Jerusalem in Jesus’ time?  I think one of the reasons our own John Weicher is so successful at what he does with our young people is that he, himself, went through the kind of growth he encourages in our children and youth.  He will tell you – perhaps he has – that his own childhood wasn’t an easy one and that his parents, both economists, did not necessarily see in him a budding pastor.  Probably far from it.  But I know from personal experience how others in his church community did nurture and guide him toward accepting the call that now is so clearly the right one. 

And there are young people among us today in this congregation who will find their way to a life of service to God, whether in ordained ministry or not, because of the encouragement so many of you are giving them.  And I suspect that’s why you parents continue to bring your children here, for you realize that within the context of the congregation your children will grow more deeply and more broadly than they would without it.  I have witnessed countless times the encouraging response so many of you make to the contributions of our children to our life together.  You write notes, you tell them, you hug them, you love them.  None of this is lost on the growing child, caught in the wonder of it all. Keep it up.

Even at the age of twelve – and, granted, Jesus was destined for something none of us can experience – he spoke of the Temple as “my Father’s house.”  You can capitalize Father here.  But how lovely indeed when our own children feel a similar warmth and comfort as they come to this place for worship or play.  A number of people told me how good our acolytes were at the candlelight service at 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve.  Of course, they were.  They’re both mature seniors in high school.  Their parents have brought them here through the years, making good on the promises they made for them at their baptisms.  They have spent many years of their young lives actively a part of our worship and communal life.  What a joy for me to work with them and to know that they take their responsibilities as seriously as I hope they would.  The boy Jesus in the Temple is an example and an affirmation for all of us of what we do here.

A second important theme that Luke raises in this morning’s story has to do with the nature of the family as Jesus re-defines it.  We might wonder why Jesus’ parents do not miss him for three days on their pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  As modern parents we might wonder indeed!  But I think we do need to recognize the cultural difference here in which such a religious pilgrimage would have been made by a caravan of extended family and friends.  It is conceivable that a boy of twelve might have been assumed to be with a group of friends or traveling with his cousins in another related family unit.

Nevertheless, the sense of irritation Mary and Joseph feel is very real to us and illustrates the growing pains we experience as our children develop their emerging sense of independence.  But with Jesus there is an added dimension.  To his parents’ accusatory question regarding their anxiety in his absence, he responds as if they should fully understand: Why were you searching for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?  Clearly he understands something they do not.  Once again, there’s that father with a capital F and the other one in lower case.  Joseph is clearly lower case.  And so it is with many fathers who begin to sense that their children are naturally growing up and separating from them along the way toward discovering their own identity. 

I hasten to add that there is comfort here as well as disappointment, even angst, for as the child matures the well-meaning and nurturing parent, father or mother, usually regains the stature he or she had as parent to the small child, only now in a new way re-fashioned for shared adulthood.  All of this seems embraced in the mystery of human growth and development, whether it’s Jesus or just our Tommy.  But it’s part of what Mary and all other mothers seem to be asked to ponder in their hearts along the way.

For Jesus, clearly and uniquely, the nature of family would be re-defined along shared belief in God’s will for him rather than bound by biological relationships.  Later when his nuclear family would feel embarrassed by his behavior in public, he would point to his disciples and say, “Here are my mother and my brothers!  For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” 

We speak of each other as our sisters and brothers in faith, and we mean something very much like what Jesus says of his family.  On this first Sunday after Christmas we might all ponder what the serious study of God’s word does to one’s sense of family.  What happens to a person when she decides to stop accepting what her family tells her and starts studying with other teachers instead?  Is conflict inevitable, or is it possible to honor one’s family of origin as well as one’s ever-expanding family of faith?

And, finally, Luke’s theme of Jesus’ authority as a teacher of God’s Word.  While Luke stays concerned throughout his Gospel with Jesus’ inclusion of all the nations in the redeeming work of God, he never erases Jesus’ Jewishness.  At the age of twelve – near the age of the bar mitzvah for Jewish boys, signaling a step from youth to young adult – Jesus engages teachers in the Temple in theological inquiry.  And when he preaches his first sermon he asks for the scroll of Isaiah to locate the nature of his call.  There is then a recognition that he teaches with “authority,” an acclimation that would follow him throughout his ministry, though it also would lead to much trouble and, eventually, his crucifixion.  But clearly Jesus grows from boyhood into manhood from his religious roots, not in spite of them.

So, friends – or should I say family? – we are on the move already, away from the manger, toward a grown-up Jesus poised to change the world.  It’s an amazing story and a good thing that we are gathered here together for the ride.  Amen.