From the Mount of Olives they headed to the temple. There were sacrifices to be made and ceremonies to observe. They could smell the temple, an aroma of blood and smoke, as the sacrifices of hundreds of thousands were made each day. There was singing, and the temple choir was in full voice. The air shook and shimmered with the devotion of the immense crowd. All through and all around the city preparation was being made for the coming Passover meal. You could hear the bleat of lambs and the cries of food vendors selling the ceremonial ingredients of that meal of thanksgiving and remembrance.
Can you imagine the power of this annual event? It was the glue that held the Jewish people together. At Passover they celebrated the way that God had delivered their ancestors from slavery in Egypt. Now, at the time of Jesus, they were in bondage again, to the hated Romans. As they celebrated their past, they prayed for deliverance, another messiah, another leader of power, one who would go from this temple and from their faith to restore God’s chosen.
Can you imagine the boy/man Jesus walking right into the middle of it all? A part of him is excited at the ceremony, the pageantry, the power of it. Another part of him knows everything that will happen here in another 20 years or so. He must have felt overwhelmed by the incredible passion and need that washed like a flood over his heart.
In my mind’s eye I can see him head to the temple courts. Those courts were famous as a place of learning. At the time of Passover the greatest rabbis of the land would gather there to teach and to discuss great truths among themselves. The young man, Jesus, would have been eager to listen and to ask questions…great questions…important questions. He captured attention.
Perhaps too soon, the event would end, and it was time to return home. It was a reverse of the arrival, with a huge mass of people headed north, large groups from home areas traveling together, whole families and villages and towns loosely walking together. Jesus stayed in Jerusalem, his family thinking he would travel with a later group, to catch up with them later. But that evening he simply wasn’t there. So they headed back to Jerusalem to find him.
It took four days. Have you ever lost a child? Do you remember the feeling? They found him in the temple courts. He was listening; still asking questions. (I’ve always wondered…who did he stay with for those 4 days? Who fed him? Where did he find water? Did he further explore the city?) I’m struck that the rabbis were still there. They hadn’t gone home yet. There he was, with them, a part of their conversations, as they marveled at his questions and understanding.
His mother: “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been frantic, searching for you everywhere.”
Jesus: “But why did you need to search? Didn’t you know I must be in my Father’s house?”
That was his turning point. He knew who he was. He knew who his true father was. He knew what his business was to be.
They returned home, but I think things were never the same after that. Luke says that Jesus was obedient to his parents, but I think that he knew his time was coming. As he developed and matured he found favor with God and with people, but he was unusual. We never hear of Joseph again. He must have died and Jesus must have taken on the care of the family as eldest son. Highly unusual, he did not marry and have his own family. He was marking time, and the gospels fall silent until he is 30. That silence fell into an ever greater silence. Tomorrow.
Prayer: “Merciful Father, I am guilty. I am guilty of religious observance without offering my whole heart, mind, soul, and strength. I have been part of the crowd, too often lax in the pursuit of your will, too often satisfied with the ceremony without the passion to follow. Create in me a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within me. Give me a willing spirit to sustain me. And in this journey toward home that sometime seems so long surround me with your protection and your quiet confidence. I trust you. Amen.”