Luke 2:41-52 · The Boy Jesus at the Temple
Home for the Holidays
Luke 2:41-52
Sermon
by William G. Carter
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Laura was going home for the holidays. As she sat in O’Hare Airport one Christmas morning, she bristled with anticipation. Her vacation would last only two and a half days, but two bags of luggage were stuffed with presents. She had finally gotten the first job that paid any real money, and she was eager to go home and lavish gifts upon people she loved.

Her family met her at the airport and took her back to the familiar neighborhood. The house was bigger than she remembered. They exchanged gifts that evening, and the dutiful daughter kept trying to convince everyone that she hadn’t spent too much money. With a lot of laughter and joy, the family moved to the dining room to enjoy a banquet of rich food and wine.

It wasn’t long, however, before Laura realized the house to which she returned was no longer the home she knew. The next morning she opened the refrigerator looking for soda water, suddenly remembering her parents would never think to buy it. The cupboard had no bagels or croissants, and the only available jam was full of sugar. Hoping for a caffeine lift, she found only decaffeinated coffee, so she boiled some water for tea.

She was singing along to the radio when her mother walked into the kitchen. “You used to listen to such nice music,” her mother said innocently enough. As everyone emerged from their rooms, they gathered in the living room for coffee. Laura told a story, and mentioned an event that happened at a restaurant on the previous Sunday. The conversation stopped for a minute, and she saw judgment in her parents’ eyes. A restaurant? On Sunday? No comment was made, but the silence spoke volumes. Laura writes:

When I again flew home two days later, this time going the other way, I wondered: what did the prodigal son feel like the morning after the party? What would I feel like after this year of freedom, having to move back home? Was that place even home to me any more?

Then she adds:

Home is attractive for many of us precisely because it is irretrievable. If we, like Dorothy, were given a magic pair of ruby slippers to transport us back home at the click of our heels, how many of us would go?1

It’s hard to say. On the one hand, Christmas time is family time. The airports bustle with homebound travelers. The college student’s beat-up Toyota carries her back to a familiar driveway in a familiar neighborhood. The guestroom in the family homestead is transformed once again into Junior’s bedroom, if only for a few days during a holiday vacation. Christmas, like no other time of the year, draws relatives and relations to the same hearth.

Yet Christmas can also expose family relationships to be something less than the Hallmark ideal. When you bring together people who love one another but live together no longer, the reunion can be quite stressful.

It is helpful that Luke tells us a story about the straining of one family’s ties. Jesus and his family went to Jerusalem to celebrate a religious festival. Scholars tell us the population of the holy city swelled by thousands during the Passover holiday. Pilgrims traveled from the four ends of the earth. And in the hustle and bustle of such an occasion, Mary and Joseph did not notice that their young son had slipped away.

They assumed he was traveling with friends and neighbors. When Jesus didn’t show up at the end of the day, their curiosity turned to fear. Mary and Joseph returned immediately to the city. They searched frantically for three days before they found him in the Temple, listening to the rabbis. “Child,” said Mary, “why have you treated us like this?” From a parent’s perspective, it looked like disobedience. But to hear the young boy Jesus tell it, he was already breaking away from home. He said, “Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49).

We have often taken his words to be a pious statement by a precocious child. When Sunday school teachers told us this story, they pointed out that Jesus was far wiser than his years. At age twelve, he could hold his own with the brightest minds in Israel. And that is probably true.

But today I want to remind us that this is a story about a family under pressure. A mother and father were starting to lose their son. It’s also a story of a child who was starting to listen for God’s voice, rather than to the voice of his parents.

A family lived off the alley behind my first church. There were three floors to their row house, each floor inhabited by a different generation. The grandparents, who were members of the church, lived on the ground floor. Next floor up was their son and daughter-in-law, and the grandchildren’s bedrooms were at the top.

One day, the grandfather beckoned me to the back fence. “I’m worried about my grandson,” he said.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

He said, “When he gets up in the morning, he reads the Bible before he does anything else. Every time he sits at the kitchen table, he insists on saying grace. Now he’s talking about joining a prayer group with his girlfriend.”

“Walter,” I said, “what’s the problem?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Reverend,” he said. “Religion is a good thing, as long as it’s in small doses. I’m worried my grandson is becoming an extremist.” I admit it was hard to sympathize with my neighbor. So far, no member of my family has been lost to such radical behavior. Neither has a child of mine wandered off to the Temple for three days. But it’s important to remember that religious commitments can divide a family.

Dr. Stanley Hauerwas is a professor at Duke University. He often begins one of his college courses by reading a letter from a distressed father. The father is upset because his son has run off to join a weird religious group. He is writing to a government official, hoping for some kind of intervention. The religious group holds secret rituals at dawn. The leaders instruct the members to sell all worldly possessions and give away the proceeds. Group members insist on eating meals together, and the father is deeply disturbed about the influence of this group upon his son.

What’s the name of this strange cult that snatched away the young man? The Christian church, circa 200 A.D.

Whose voice speaks louder? Your family’s voice or God’s voice? That is the issue for today, and it is not easily settled. As much as we prepare our children for independence, it is painful when they begin to claim it. As seriously as we nurture our children’s faith, it can be unsettling when they begin to take faith seriously.

According to the Gospel of Luke, Jesus did not ease any such difficulty through his words or actions. One day he was busy teaching and healing. Someone announced, “Your mother and your brothers are here, but the crowd is so big they cannot get to you.” But Jesus replied by using his family as a sermon illustration. “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Luke 8:19-21). How do you think they felt when they heard his response?

After Jesus grew up, he made radical demands on anybody who wished to follow him. He expected disciples to leave their homes and families for the sake of the kingdom of God (Luke 18:29-30). He warned they would be betrayed and put to death by parents and brothers (Luke 21:16). And he insisted his disciples had to give their first allegiance to him. In the most radical words possible, Jesus said, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26). We are called to pursue a single-minded obedience to God that precedes all loyalties and obligations to our families.

And yet, Luke is clear that Jesus learned this obedience from Mary and Joseph (2:51). Thanks to them, his daily life was firmly rooted in the life and faith of Israel. The birth of Jesus, set within the context of world events, is also subject to obligations of the Torah. The child was circumcised, named, and dedicated, according to the Law of Moses. Growing up, it was his custom to attend the synagogue on the Sabbath day (4:16). As an adult, Jesus did not quickly dismiss the traditions of his family’s faith, but drew upon them to nurture and strengthen his life. A few scholars have even suggested that Jesus came to Jerusalem for his Bar Mitzvah, and not only for the Passover holiday. We can’t say for certain; but what could be more appropriate than for Jesus to sit in the presence of the rabbis, caught up in discussing the commandments of God?

At its heart, this story hints at the tension between two of those commandments. On the one hand, Mary and Joseph were justified in their anger. The law says, “Honor your father and mother.” Putting your parents through three days of anguish is not a way to honor or respect them.

On the other hand, the young Jesus was pushing us beyond the horizon to a greater requirement of faith: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” For he said to them, “Didn’t you know that I should be in my Father’s house?” He was acknowledging that there is one family tie that transcends all bonds of biology and marriage. We belong to God even before we belong to our parents.

Even so, we live within families. God has intended that each one of us be raised within a caring and safe household. At its best, the family can be the smallest form of Christian community. We have an opportunity to learn love and trust from the people who are raising us, and an obligation to pass on that trust and love to them and others. As Frederick Buechner writes:

Our mothers, like our fathers, are to be honored, the Good Book says. But if Jesus is our guide, honoring them doesn’t mean either idealizing or idolizing them. It means seeing them both for who they are and for who they are not. It means speaking the truth to them. It means the best way of repaying them for their love is to love God and our neighbor as faithfully and selflessly as at their best our parents have tried to love us.2

We have aging parents and rebellious children, distant uncles and hovering grandmothers. What’s more, lately we have had our share of noisy crowds and busy religious festivals. With the stress of the season, many normally loving relationships have become pushed to a breaking point.

With that in mind, following God’s will is a matter of discernment. For Jesus, it meant a single-minded obedience that would send him to the cross, a commitment to God that would pierce his mother’s soul (Luke 2:35). Perhaps that is the cross some of us are called to carry this Christmas: to stand up and testify to a God who guides our lives on a path that may stand at odds with our family’s expectations.

For others of us, however, we may be called to express our love of God through a renewed love of family. There are fractured relationships to rebuild, long-broken ties to restore, ungracious relatives to whom we are called to speak a forgiving word. Today gives us an opportunity to strengthen our relationships to those people who have loved us, nurtured us, and set us free. A renewed commitment to our family may be one Christmas gift that is still waiting to be opened.


1. Laura Smit, “The Image of Home,” Theology Today (October 1988), pp. 306-7.

2. Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1993), pp. 81-82.

CSS Publishing Company, Praying for a Whole New World, by William G. Carter