Boy Jesus in the Temple - Redeemer Episcopal Church

 Luke 2:41-52

The Boy Jesus in the Temple

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.

You can read my sermon below, or listen to it at this link. 

Let us pray. God of grace and wisdom, help us to search for you in all of the unexpected places of our hearts and your creation. Amen. 

I remember seeing for the first time what looked like a leash on a child. I think I was in high school, walking in a crowded shopping mall during the holiday season. I kind of scoffed and was amazed that a parent couldn’t keep a good enough eye on their child that they would need a leash. 

And then I had a child. And my child started walking. And running. And realized that it only takes about a half a second of not paying close attention before a child can just disappear. And then I totally understood those child leashes. 

We moved across town right before Christmas and our new neighborhood is full of wonderful children who are all what you might call “free range children.” They go out to play in the morning and wander home when they get hungry or the sun goes down. As our kids get older, I hope I will have enough confidence to let them wander and play as they wish. But until then, I go to bed every night thinking “maybe I should buy one of those tracking watches… just in case…” 

We hear in the story this morning every parent’s nightmare. A lost child. Not only that, but a lost child in the midst of a road trip. Among strangers in a big city. It takes them three days to find Jesus. Three days of searching the caravans and the city, frantic with worry. And finally they find him. He’s not looking for them or trying to catch up with their group of travelers. He’s not remorseful about dawdling behind. He’s causally sitting in the temple, listening to the teachers and asking questions. He doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

I cannot even imagine what Mary was feeling. I think I probably would have exploded with rage. At twelve years old, he should know better than to wander off like that. Perhaps I would have even tied a rope around his waist so he didn’t wander off as we left Jerusalem again. 

But it does beg the question why it took so long to find him. In the era of communal living, when folks sort of all lived and traveled together all the time, why did it take three days for them to finally find Jesus? Did they not know him well enough to know that he would be in the temple listening and teaching? Had they ignored that he was theologically inclined and was constantly talking about God? I’d like to think that if my child went missing, I would know where to find him— probably in a pile of snacks in the kitchen or perhaps along San Jose Boulevard on his way to grandma’s house. 

But when Mary finds him, she says “why have you treated us like this?” 

Jesus replies with a sort snide comment to his mother— didn’t you know that I would be here? Why are you surprised that I would be in my father’s house? 

Why was she searching in the wrong places? Didn’t she remember what she had pondered in her heart all those years ago after his miraculous birth? 

Twelve years is a long time. I doubt she would have forgotten what the angels had told her about Jesus long ago, but perhaps things had been so normal for so long that it was pushed to the back of her mind. Maybe she was in denial of Jesus growing up and beginning to live into who he was supposed to be? Or maybe, like we often do when we are too close to a subject, she had failed to see the growth in her own son. 

We, too, must come to grips with the reality that Jesus is growing up and growing beyond our own expectations of what he might be. As we move from the big celebrations of Advent and Christmas, perhaps we are in the same place as Mary and Joseph— unable or unwilling to see how much Jesus has grown, unable to see his true identity. 

It’s difficult when Christmas has been so commercialized and watered down for so long. Much of the world sees Christmas as simply the birth of a special baby. And perhaps our sight has been clouded by that same commercialization— we have been too close to it for too long to really understand what Christmas, the birth of this king, means for the world. 

If we stop with the birth story and go no further, we miss the significance of Jesus’ presence in the world. Similarly, if we skip straight from Christmas to Easter, as we are so often tempted to do, we will miss what God can teach us through the incarnation as not only a man teaching and prophesying throughout the countryside, but as a boy in the temple, curious and asking questions of his elders. 

Perhaps it would be easier for Mary and Joseph if Jesus were a simple child. If he were not the son of God and just a regular 12 year old boy getting into regular 12 year old mischief. Maybe they would feel less like they have their hands full. But the reality is that Jesus is destined for something much more, something much larger and more significant than simply being the son of Mary and Joseph. Indeed, the tension is palpable when Jesus denies his fatherhood in Joseph and claims for the first time to be the son of God. He knows that there is more to his identity than his mother is giving him credit for.  

We see in this story that somewhere around this time, Jesus’ priorities have changed. He is no longer a child and not yet ready for his public ministry. But he has set his face toward the will of God and Jerusalem, preparing for the teaching that will eventually lead him to death on the cross outside of that very town. 

As Jesus grows “in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor,” we must, like Mary, level our own expectations. Despite the pictures and nativities, despite the serene movie depictions and the quiet hymns, Jesus is more than just a babe in a manger. Indeed, he is even more than a young boy asking questions in the temple. Jesus is God himself who came into the world to be with us in all of our searching. Jesus is the one who begins and continues the salvation of this world. 

And the good news is that as Jesus grows in wisdom and in years, we are gifted with the wisdom of his public teaching. And as we move through our own growth and discipleship in our Father’s house, we also grow in divine and human favor. And, like Jesus, our purpose as children of God is so much more than we could have ever expected or imagined. Amen.  

You've been alone long enough - Christmas Day at Redeemer Episcopal Church

 John 1:1-14

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.

You can read my sermon below or listen to it at this link.

Let us pray. God of light and life, be with us on this Christmas morning as we remember the ridiculousness of your love and our part in this story. Amen. 

The story of Christmas doesn’t make any sense. I think we have become quite immune to the ridiculousness of this story because we hear it every year. We know this story by heart. It is at the core of who we are as Christians. In fact, we probably know it better and can picture it in our minds more completely than even Holy Week and Easter morning. After all, the birth of Jesus is the beginning of time as we understand it. And the more familiar we are with a story, the more normal it becomes to us. 

But this story is anything but normal. The way that John tells it in his gospel account is much more like poetry than the narrative we hear in Luke about shepherds and Mary and Joseph… in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.

This story is ridiculous. That God— almighty and all-powerful God would give up God’s mortality to become human. And not JUST human, but a human baby, into a family of a virgin young woman and her fiancé. It doesn’t make any logical sense. And yet… here we are, 2021 years later, telling this story again. And here we are… hearing this story again, in a new year, with fresh ears. But the same story. 

It makes little sense that after all that had happened in the history of creation and God’s people that God would still choose to become a human and live among us. I mean, God had sent prophets and kings and all sorts of incredible people to  To us, the incarnation seems illogical and impractical. Who are we to deserve our God come walk among us, wash our feet, and dine with us? 

The story is almost as unbelievable as some of the others we tell around Christmas time. 

If you know anything about our family, you will know that we watch a lot of children’s movies. This season, we have watched the new animated movie Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch over and over again. It’s worth it— it’s hilarious— so I highly recommend it. 

I would imagine that most of us know the story of The Grinch— it, too, is a story that has been told over and over again. The story of a fuzzy green grump who lives up on top of a mountain all by himself. He hates Christmas and steals the gifts and trees and everything on Christmas Eve from the Whos down in Whoville. But instead of ruining Christmas, the Grinch learns that the Whos don’t need presents and trees to celebrate what Christmas is really about. 

At the end of the movie, a little girl named Cindy Lou goes up the Grinch’s mountain and invites him to Christmas dinner. He is surprised. After everything he has done, why would he be invited? 

“What? Me?” He asks. “But I took your gifts.” 

“Yeah I know” Cindy Lou replies. 

“And your trees,” the Grinch protests. 

“Yup” 

“I stole your whole Christmas,” he says, as if she would have forgotten what he had done to her whole town. 

“I know you did. But we’re inviting you anyway.” 

“But why?” He asks. 

“Because. You’ve been alone long enough. Dinner's at six” 

Beloved friends, we have been alone long enough. This is what God says to us on this Christmas morning. That God invites us in not because of us but in spite of us. In spite of all of the messiness of the world. In spite of all of the things we have stolen and ruined and been grumpy about, God comes to us. God comes to us as an innocent child. As the very light of the world. As the Word of God broken in to this place. Why? Why would God come all the way here to earth to be among us? Why would the creator of all life and earth want to become one of us? Because we’ve been alone long enough. And God wants to invite us to dinner. Amen. 

This is but the beginning - Redeemer Episcopal Church

 Mark 13:1-8

The Destruction of the Temple Foretold

13 As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 2 Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

3 When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4 “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” 5 Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. 6 Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. 7 When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8 For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.

Gracious God, be with us in the labor of these days so that we might be reminded of your holy and saving work through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of your holy son, Christ Jesus. Amen. 

Every generation has rumors or the apocalypse or the end times. I remember a while back, there was global fear about what would happen at midnight on December 31 of 1999. And sometime in 2012 there was a lot of talk about the Mayan calendar ending. I’m sure a simple Google search would pull up thousands more dates when the world was supposed to end. Perhaps they were miscalculated, but we are still here, so it seems that the end of the world hasn’t come quite yet. 

But as a society we are fixated on knowing when the “end” might come and what it might look like. There are numerous book series and whole franchises of movies about the end of the world or the breakdown of society. Will it be caused by multiple climate disasters or global war? 

Of course, those are only the secular views of the end times. If we get into all of the religious theories and doctrine and theology, we could go on for ages about what then end will look like for the world. Even Jesus joined the discourse in the text we read this morning. This story is called the “little apocalyptic text,” a brief mention of the destruction of the temple… 

When the disciples looked at the temple, they saw an incredible structure— they saw a building unmatched anywhere else in the empire. It was an engineering marvel, rumored to have blocks of stone 40 feet long to make up the walls. And some said that the walls were covered in so much gold that people feared looking directly at it in the noonday sun because they might go blind. 

But it was not only an incredible structure. For the disciples, it was a symbol— THE symbol— of God’s presence and faithfulness in the world. Its glory proved God’s glory, its presence represented God’s presence. It was where God resided and where the most holy of ceremonies and rituals took place. 

So the shock of Jesus’ words cannot be understated. “Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” 

What would this mean for Jerusalem? For the Jewish people? What would it mean for God’s presence in the world and God’s faithfulness to God’s people? Surely Jesus wasn’t predicting the end of the world. 

In reality, apocalyptic literature and episodes in the Bible like this one, are less about the end of the world and more about an unveiling, an uncovering of truth. 

For the disciples, the truth was that God would be unconfined in the world. That they would not have one central place to go and find God. That God, indeed, could not be contained in the temple, as beautiful and large as it was, would have been a difficult truth to grasp in their world. 

Today, uncovering the truth of God’s ever-expansive and bountiful grace is difficult for us to grasp as well. It’s easier if God fits inside of our boxes and small ideas. 

On a larger scale in the world, oftentimes, uncovering truth is painful. It shows us the inequities of our society. It shows us how we have exploited and destroyed our planet. It shows us how we have contributed to diseases and death. 

Uncovering truth is often something that comes with deep groans of pain, stretching, and difficulty. Jesus says, this uncovering is like the beginning of birth pangs. Jesus tells the disciples that the destruction of the temple is only the beginning of what will happen…

“When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.”

“Do not be alarmed,” Jesus says. Even as he tells the disciples of all of these disasters and terrible things that will happen. As he tells them that the temple will be destroyed. That life as they know it will change forever. “Do not be alarmed.” 

Perhaps what Jesus describes is happening not only in the world around us, but within the Christian community. Perhaps there is an uncovering that is happening within the church, and it is something we should pay attention to. What could the Holy Spirit be revealing in this time of pain and labor within the church? What could God be teaching us through the warnings of the world that the church is dying? Perhaps we are being reminded once again that God’s glory and power and majesty cannot be contained, but spreads out into the world abundantly. What might God be tellings us beyond these walls? In what ways is the Spirit leading us to dream bigger and more expansive in these time? Despite the warnings of the church dying, could God be calling this community to something new, something generous, and something risky? Jesus says “do not be alarmed.” Notice, pay attention. But do not be alarmed. 

At the very end of this reading, Jesus says this is only the beginning of the birth pangs. That, I think, is the good news of this morning. That the famine, the wars, the painful unveiling of inequality and strife, the research that claims that the church is dying… it is only the beginning of the birth pangs. And like birth pangs, they will grow in intensity until they feel unbearable. And THEN— right when we think we can’t handle any more pain, when our whole being is saying we can’t go any further— is when we will be greeted with the cry of new birth. That is always the case with God— that what the world believes is the end is actually the beginning of God’s work in the world. 

Jesus’ promise is that this pain is not the end. Because of God’s promise of resurrection for us and all of creation, death is never the end. God’s promise for us and for all of creation is the promise of a savior who, indeed, was born into a world of pain and continues his saving work even to this day. The world may say that this is the end. This, dear ones, is but the beginning. Amen.