By Sharon Nelsen
Luke sees importance in this story about the Boy Jesus and
gives us the viewpoint of three different sets of characters to ponder: 1)
Those in the Temple who heard him and were “astounded at his
understanding and his answers;” 2) His parents who were astonished, and who said to him. “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you
with great anxiety;” and 3) That of the Boy Jesus who asks, “Why were you
looking for me? Did you not know that I must
be in my Father’s house?”
When I reflect on those learned men in the Temple who were
astounded, I find it astounding in the first place that any group of adults were
giving up their time to listen to a boy barely into manhood, much less
reflecting on what he had to say. It’s
like a group of university professors intently listening to a high school freshman
explaining topics in their field of expertise.
And yet, apparently, the learned men were captivated by this budding
rabbi.
As I reflect on the words that another astonished person,
the Boy Jesus’ Mother, says to him I think about the expectations we parents
have that our children will continue doing what we have taught them to do and
our initial disappointment when they take the initiative in modifying any of our traditions. Mary’s question certainly reveals her
parental viewpoint: You were not where
you supposed to be, and this action on your part has caused your Father and I
“great anxiety.” But Mary and Joseph’s “great anxiety” needs to
be regarded in their culture—a young Jewish male apparently on his own in a
Roman ruled society.
They realize the implications of a boy his age being
anywhere alone in Jerusalem. What
probably was very fresh in their memory of what it was like to live under Roman
occupation was a major incident that occurred when Jesus was about ten years
old. A band of Zealots, objecting to a
census ordered by the Roman emperor, broke into the armory at Sepphoris, about
two miles from Nazareth, and started a revolt.
The Roman’s Twelfth legion, led by the Governor of Antioch, in the
north, defeated the rebels. They crucified 2,000 of these Jewish
revolutionaries on crosses lined from Sepphoris to the Sea of Galilee. There is no doubt that Jesus, perhaps with
some of his younger cousins, saw these men dying on crosses less than five
miles from their village of Nazareth.
Certainly, the adults knew the situation and all of its
implications. After his Bar Mitzvah, a
Jewish boy was considered a man of Israel and he could be recruited by the
rebel army of Zealots at that age. And, by
himself in Jerusalem, without his father, if he had been caught, he could have
been arrested by the Roman soldiers for wandering away from his caravan under
suspicion that he was a revolutionary.
The great question of the Boy Jesus, “Why were you looking
for me? Did you not know that I must be
in my Father’s house?” is not a sarcastic, “smart mouth adolescent” response,
but more of an inquiry. His parents know
he is of age and as a man of Israel could go alone into the Temple Court of the
Israelites, where Jewish men would come and recite the great Shema,
Israel—“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is One.” That they know. But, as young Jesus learns, they don’t fully
understand His mission. Jesus
experiences that integral part of growing up-- the realization that your
parents not only do not know everything, but that you might be beyond them in knowledge and understanding in a particular area.
Here are a few of the many revelations I grasp in this
story: 1) For the Temple personnel, unable
to negate the wisdom and understanding coming from this young teacher, they see
contrast in their own perceptions of the Deity;
2) For Mary, “who kept all these
things in her heart,” there is the same
realization of waiting for full understanding of who her Son is, that came upon
her with Elizabeth’s greeting, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the
fruit of your womb!” (Luke 1. 40) and again from Simeon in the same Temple when
he told Mary that “this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in
Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted…” (Luke 2.34); and 3) for the Boy Jesus, he experiences a
confirmation of his teaching ability in the fact that he is able to astound a
gathering of learned adults in their own “classroom.”
In the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary, we reflect on the joy
every parent separated from their child experiences upon reunion. That is one level, but in this story, the
dialogue would suggest that the “finding” is second to the “revelation” that Mary
and Joseph experience as to the particularity of the gift of this son,
Jesus. And, they are challenged to adjust
this discovery with their parental role.
The text reveals to us a mutual understanding on the part of
Jesus and his parents: No matter how
gifted he is, no matter how much he has astounded his parents and others, he is
not yet prepared to encounter and deal with the adult world. The
peasant parents understand that being astounded can be a long way from
acceptance.
Apparently, Jesus respects his parents wisdom above all else
–popularity, audience, even his own recognized ability to teach adults—for ”He
went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them.”
Luke concludes his brief story: “And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and
favor before God and man.”
I tell this story frequently at Boys Town’s Dowd Chapel in
front of the Tableau of the Boy Jesus Teaching in the Temple. When we have seventh and eighth grade students
on a Father Flanagan pilgrimage, I ask them as they gaze upon the Boy Jesus
teaching astounded adults, “How many of you know more than your parents
do?” The usual response is a group of
lowered heads and shuffling feet. Then I
say, “Well, Jesus did too. And what do
the scriptures tell us? That he knew he
was not ready to engage the adult world; he needed more guidance, experience
and formation from his parents. And so
He went back home and learned from them.
And that is why, as brilliant as you may be in your studies, on the
computer, or in sports or musical accomplishment, you need the guidance, love
and expertise of your parents and teachers so that you, too, are prepared to fully
enter the adult world.”
And Father Flanagan always says, “Amen!”
