Luke 2:41-52 · The Boy Jesus at the Temple
Nazareth: The Hidden Years
Luke 2:41-52
Sermon
by J. Ellsworth Kalas
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Although I have been privileged to travel in the Holy Land three times, I have been to Nazareth only once, and that was a hurried visit. Now and then I tell myself that I want to go to Israel again some day, and that when I do, I will decide (not the travel agent) how long I will stay in each place. If that ever happens, I will spend more time in Nazareth.

If you go to Nazareth today, you will find a city of nearly 30,000 people. It was much, much smaller in Jesus’ day, of course, but around 600 A.D., pilgrims built a large basilica there, and soon the town became a place of both pilgrimage and conflict. Arabs took the city later that century. The Crusaders built several churches there, but in 1517 Ottoman Turks drove out all Christians. Today Nazareth has a variety of churches and shrines, and you can still go to Mary’s Well, a place where people drew water even in Jesus’ day. And somehow, even though tourists crowd the streets and signs of modernity distract one from the biblical days - still, even today, it is easy for the mind to go back nineteen centuries. There is a rugged hillside, from which the villagers one day threatened to cast Jesus; it is a foreboding spot even yet. There are donkeys in the streets, just as there were then, carrying articles to or from market. Many of the people are dressed just as they were in Jesus’ day. The cypress trees and the flat-roofed houses are probably just as they were long ago.

Such is Nazareth, the town in which Jesus lived most of his life. We might calculate that he spent perhaps 28 of his 33 years here. Often we refer to him, as they no doubt did long ago, as "Jesus of Nazareth." Yet as a matter of fact, we know virtually nothing about those 28 years. Indeed, the only specific thing we know about that period concerns a few days when Jesus and his family left there, when he was twelve, to attend a religious festival in Jerusalem. That is, during all the years of childhood, youth, and early manhood that Jesus spent in Nazareth, we remember the period best for the time he left it.

And that’s why, as you and I make our Lenten pilgrimmage in the footsteps of Jesus, I refer to the city of Nazareth as "the hidden years." Though Jesus spent more years in Nazareth than in any other place, we know little about those years. They were the years of learning, of thinking, of preparing.

Nowadays, when people contemplate moving into a community, they are likely to ask, "Is it a good place to raise children?" As I travel here and there, I hear a case made for the merits of one city or another. People in a small town will say, "This is a good place for a family. It’s quiet, there’s very little crime, and people have wholesome values. You can drive a few minutes and be out in the countryside." In a city like Cleveland, people say, "Our children have cultural advantages here - orchestra, libraries, big league sports, beautiful parks, and excellent schools. It’s a good place to raise children."

What do you think they said about Nazareth? Joseph and Mary might have reasoned that they had family nearby - kin who would make life secure. And perhaps there wasn’t much more to say, and I doubt that they thought much about it.

If they had, they might have felt uncomfortable about raising Jesus in Nazareth. As we read on in the New Testament, we discover that it was one of those towns that evoked laughter. "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" the saying went. It was a hill town, the kind of town easily scorned and made the butt of jokes. And for that reason, perhaps it was a good town in which to hide away and learn. Greatness might come looking for one in Rome or Athens or even Jerusalem, but greatness seemed likely to bypass Nazareth.

So what happened to Jesus during those years between the return from Egypt, at perhaps age two, and his open ministry, at age thirty? He lived in Nazareth, a tiny hill town, and we have no specific record. But where there are no records, you can be sure there will be legends. A choir anthem conveys one of those legends: Jesus as a child, playing in his garden. One early summer day, some children trooped by. They plucked roses from a tree, and scornfully asked Jesus if he wore roses in his hair. Jesus answered humbly that they should take all but the naked thorns away. Then of the thorns the children made a crown.

And with rough fingers pressed it down,

Till on his forehead fair and young

Red drops of blood like roses sprung.1

There is lovely sentiment in that. Other legends turn to the bizarre and miraculous. One of the apocryphal stories says that one day Jesus and some of his playmates were making little mud animals, the way youngsters do today with Playdough; but when Jesus finished shaping his bird, the clay creature came to life and flew away, to the astonishment of his playmates.

But as a matter of fact, we have every reason to believe that Jesus lived a very average boyhood in a loving, average home, in what we would probably consider a below-average town. He was taught the great prayers of his people, he went to a village school where he learned to read and write, and he helped in the carpenter shop. We see reflections of that life in his later parables and teachings. When he talks of a woman losing a coin in her house, or about putting leaven in a loaf of bread, or about not sewing a new patch on an old garment, we see pictures of the world in which he grew up. When he speaks of a farmer sowing grain and harvesting, or talks about a landowner coming to the marketplace to hire day laborers, we are plunged into the everyday world of Nazareth and the surrounding countryside.

It was such a common world. It was a world of rising with the sun, working at hard and simple tasks, tramping dusty roads, and visiting undistinguished people. There was no country club, no symphony, no Rotary or PEO, no university, no daily newspaper. At the end of a hard and tiring day, you gladly wrapped yourself in your coat or a blanket and lay on the floor with the rest of your family. It didn’t take long to fall asleep. You knew that tomorrow, at sunrise, you would awaken to begin another such day. What happens in such a common world as that?

If life is right, one tremendously important thing happens. You grow. And so, as little as the New Testament tells us about the hidden years of Jesus’ life, it pauses twice to tell us that He was growing. The first is from the years before age twelve: "And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon him."2 And again, after the family had returned from the dramatic experience in Jerusalem, Luke writes: "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man."3 Jesus was growing. The people in the village saw it. It was not simply a matter of a mark on the doorpost - one inch taller than six months ago - but those indefinable marks of the spirit, so difficult to measure yet so impressive and essential.

Yet when I speak of Jesus growing during those Nazareth years, I confess that it’s easier to think about the years from two to sixteen or eighteen than it is the years between twenty and thirty. Mind you, not that people don’t grow between twenty and thirty; personally, I’m excited about the growth possibilities between fifty and eighty, or upwards! I’m thinking of the kind of town Nazareth was, and what people must have thought, and what they must have whispered to one another. They expected a boy to grow. They recognized not only that he was getting taller, but also that he was getting smarter, and that there were signs of developing character in his life. But at eighteen or thereabout, a boy settled in to work and to raise a family. There were no longer dramatic evidences of growth, either in body or in person. I wonder if people coming back to the village sometimes asked, "What’s happened to Jesus since we left?" And I wonder if the townsfolk answered, "Nothing much, at least as far as we can see. He’s still running the carpenter shop. You see him in the synagogue. Fine man, but nothing special is happening." And I wonder if Jesus grew restive. Did he wonder why his ministry, his calling, his divine appointment was being sidetracked? Did he, perhaps wonder about the meaninglessness of these uneventful, passing years? Did he say to himself, "There are lessons to be taught, bodies to be healed, lives to be lifted, souls to be saved, and here I stay in this backwash of a town, cutting a board and fitting a wooden yoke to an ox!"?

And yet, I tell you, it may be that life’s most important years are those hidden years. I’m not sure that one can ever achieve anything of lasting worth without some Nazareth time. Take Moses, for instance. He dared to march into Pharaoh’s palace with a challenge, then organized a dispirited group of slaves and led them through the wilderness and its hopeless hardships. But before he did all of that, he spent forty years on the back side of the desert, herding sheep. We have little record of what happened during those years, yet somehow I’m sure that Moses could never have stood up to Pharaoh nor brought this rebellious slave-nation under control if it had not been for those years.

And Paul, the apostle. He was a wonderfully educated man, trained by one of the finest scholars of his time and learned in both Judaism and Greek philosophy. So what happened after he was converted to Christianity? "I went away into Arabia," he said.4 With all of his training, all of his ability, he went out into the desert. As he tells it, he spent a total of some three years in essential isolation before he embarked on his full ministry. Those were the Nazareth years, the hidden years, the time to grow. It is not surprising, then, that when Paul, or someone influenced by him, wrote Timothy the qualifications for a bishop, he said, "He must not be a recent convert" ("a novice," the King James version says), "or he may be puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil."5 To be a bishop, or any other leader of the people, there ought to be time in Nazareth, hidden years for growing. Roy L. Smith once overheard conversation from a circle of preachers. A young man said, "God made me a preacher overnight." An older man answered, "I knew God made mushrooms that way, but not preachers."

Indeed, I would make the Nazareth case still more emphatic. Not only do we human beings need some hidden years, out of the limelight, to give ourselves opportunity to mature before attention comes to us; but after we have come to some level of achievement, we need some continuing Nazareth quality in life. That is, we need some place, some person, some setting where we are temporarily "hidden." We need to be restored, to grow within in measure enough to keep up with what is happening without. You’ve heard the "Peter Principle" - that people keep being promoted until they reach a position beyond their competence. Most of us have seen evidence of the theory. But I wonder if there isn’t also another factor, the Nazareth factor. First, that some people get elevated before they’ve had enough hidden time to grow within; and second, that after some people are elevated, they no longer have a Nazareth connection. That is, they no longer have a hidden place, a setting where they are ignored or even repudiated. Most people, after achieving some prominence, isolate themselves from any circumstances which might correct, humble, or instruct them. Some are so blatant about it that they surround themselves constantly with "yes men" or with their own little clique who are ready to applaud their every gesture. They talk only with people who will affirm them. They lose the Nazareth factor.

So today, traveling in the footsteps of Jesus, we have paused at Nazareth. Our Lord spent more time there than anywhere, and we know the least about it. We know only one thing about those years: He grew. He grew in wisdom, stature, and in favor with God and with His fellow beings. Nazareth may not be as exciting as Bethlehem, Jericho, or Jerusalem, but if we want to walk with our Lord, we’ll need to spend some time there. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can take its place.


1. "The Crown of Roses," by Plechtcheev; translated by Geoffrey Dearmer.

2. Luke 2:40 (KJV)

3. Luke 2:52 (KJV)

4. Galatians 1:17

5. 1 Timothy 3:6 (RSV)

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., Pilgrimage, by J. Ellsworth Kalas