“Chosen Home”

Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.

Today’s scripture reading is one of my absolute favorites. It’s a brief little moment, captured by Luke alone, of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as a twelve-year-old. We’ve just spent the last four weeks of Advent awaiting the birth of a tiny baby boy. Year after year, we marvel at the spectacular mystery of God made flesh in human form, in the precarious, vulnerable body of a baby. And, of course, we spend the rest of the year thinking about Jesus as an adult man—a teacher, rabbi, and leader. 

            But today, Jesus is neither a helpless baby boy nor the adult we know so well through pages of the gospels. Today, Jesus is an awkward, gangly, smelly middle-school boy. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I love middle schoolers. My first job in ministry was as a Middle School youth director in Seattle and it was that job that changed my life. It was my middle schoolers who taught me that I could be a pastor. It was the big questions that they asked, and I didn’t have the answers to, that propelled me toward Seminary. Often when I tell people that middle schoolers are my favorite people on the planet, adults look at me with a bit of horror and say, “Oh I don’t know how you do it! I could never work with middle schoolers!” Middle schoolers make adults very uncomfortable, and I think it’s because middle schoolers wear all of their awkwardness and vulnerabilities on the outside that we adults have mastered hiding within us. When an 11-year-old dresses in a way we don’t understand or says the quiet part out loud or hasn’t quite mastered the art of deodorant, adults cringe inside because they know that they too have weird interests and smelly armpits. But adults know better than to show that to the world. By high school, most teenagers will have learned the social art of hiding to fit in, but in middle school, they still are intelligent and curious and vulnerable.

            For parents of middle schoolers, the vulnerabilities of that season of life are almost too much to bear. “What if they make fun of my kid? What if what makes her special is also what makes her a target?” Middle schoolers bring up a flood of memories and emotions for adults because inside of us is also a vulnerable teenager who isn’t sure where their place in this world is. We are all awkward and unsure at times. As it turns out, so was Jesus. 

            A central question of my entire has been, “Am I good?” which is always followed by, “But know do I know?” As a Christian kid, I remember reading my bible over and over, looking for answers to what meant to be good. The bracelet, “WWJD, What would Jesus Do?” wasn’t just a silly acronym for me—it was how I oriented my life. What would Jesus do if he were here? I remember reading about Jesus flipping tables at unjust financial practices and thinking, “Maybe the anger that burns inside me can also be good.” Maybe if Jesus needs naps while other people were working it, it’s okay if I need rest at inconvenient times too. I remember looking for moments in Jesus’ life that resonated with my own because if Jesus felt it, then it must be okay for me to feel it too.

            Which brings me to today’s passage—teenage Jesus who longs to stay in Jerusalem just a little bit longer. Luke tells us that his family went to the Passover festival every year, which means it probably was something Jesus looked forward to all year long. It was an escape from Podunk Nazareth where people whispered and gossiped about his parentage. The Passover festival was a time when Jesus could be his most true self—the true self that was revealing itself within him—fully human and fully God. It was a time of worship and community that was different from his everyday life. But when he was 12, Jesus didn’t want to go home. He wasn’t ready to leave and so he stayed in the temple, asking questions of the rabbis and sharing his own answers in response. 

            But of course, Jesus’ parents didn’t know that. It wasn’t until after a day of walking toward Nazareth that they realized he wasn’t with their group. I imagine Mary responding like Catherine O’Hara as the mom in Home Alone, with her eyes wide open yelling “Jesus!” Mary and Joseph run back to Jerusalem and search for three days for Jesus. Can you imagine their panic? My little brother once got lost on a train in Italy for 30 minutes and my parents were losing their minds. I can only imagine the fear in the pit of their stomachs Mary and Joseph must have been feeling until they finally came to the temple, only to find their beloved son sitting and talking with a bunch of old men. As the relief cascades over them, Mary is also upset, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.” And then Jesus, in peak Middle Schooler fashion, responds with “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” I can only imagine Mary’s consternation at his cheeky response. “Seriously? Now is when you choose to start answering questions with a question?” Luke tells us that Jesus returns home with his parents and is obedient to them. As always, God refuses to be put into a box. Jesus is both defiant and obedient. 

            Jesus reminds me of so many teenagers I’ve known who have gone to camp or conferences or retreats that have become their treasured safe spaces. Back on the East Coast, it’s a Presbyterian retreat center called Montreat. Around here, it’s Malibu Young Life Camp. These places provide a time and space for teenagers to meet God in a special way. Regular life fades away and everything feels different. But then, the end of the week comes they have to go home. For some, it is the most painful day because everything inside of them is screaming to stay. Their real-life back home isn’t one they want to return to. As an adult leader, I’ve often talked to kids about how camp is Mountaintop experience, that they are like Peter, who wants to stay with Jesus and Elijah and Moses at the top of the mountain, but Jesus tells him to back down the mountain. I’ve told kids that we can’t stay on the mountaintop, we must go back to our lives. But when I did that, I missed what teenage Jesus needed—just a little more time on the mountain top. Jesus longed to stay in the place where he was most authentic self and was willing to anger his parents to do so.

            I think of the students I have been so privileged to know who do not feel at home in their bodies, their houses, or their families. There is a longing within them for something else—a different name, a different story, a different community. Often, these longings are not what their families expect or understand so they are told to conform and squash down those longings. But the Jesus we see in teenage form tells me that those longings are holy longings. Longing for love, for community, for freedom, for a home and chosen family. Of course, we must use our spirit-filled wisdom to determine which longings are holy, because I can tell you that my teenage longing to strangle my little brother when he annoyed me was far from holy. Not all longings are holy, but as Jesus will proclaim in the Sermon on the Mount, “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit… therefore by their fruits you will know them.” By the fruits that our longings produce, we can know if they are good. 

            So no matter your age—whether you are a teenager, young adult, parent, or in your later years of life—I believe this passage gives us two mandates. First, is to pay attention to the longings inside of you. Where are the places you desperately want to return to? What is it about that place or those people that make you feel at home? How can you nurture that holy longing? 

            Second, is to pay attention to the holy longings inside of others. What stands out to me most of all, is that Mary listens to her son but does not understand what he was saying. And still, she treasured all these things in her heart. Her lack of understanding does not lead to a lack of love. It is okay not to fully understand someone and the holy longings within them. You do not have to understand what it means to be trans to love someone who is trans. You do not have to understand what it feels like to be a minority in America to love your Black, Latinx, Asian, and Indigenous neighbors. You do not have to understand why your friend, or your child, or your neighbor acts and loves and prays in the way that they do. Your calling as a Christian is to love. Don’t let your lack of understanding be a barrier to your love. Don’t waste time mistakenly believing that understanding must come first. You will need to put in the work to learn and grow in your understanding of who God made them to be and how they experience this world, but on the road to that understanding, may you treasure them as holy and loved by God. 

            My big question that I asked as a teenager is one that I still ask today, “Am I good?” And in that vulnerable, quiet moment, I hear teenage Jesus say, “Yes. You are good. You with your awkwardness and insecurity; you with your faults and failures; you with your holy longings that you can’t quite put into words; you are good and you are home.” May you trust and believe that God speaks these words to you too and may you treasure them in your heart. Amen.