A Holy One, A Holy Land
Christmas 2B
Jer. 31:7-14; Luke 2:41-52
1/4/09
Lorraine Ljunggren

        A twelve year old, one we call a boy, sits in one of the places on earth deemed Holy among God's people – the Temple in Jerusalem. A twelve year old in his tradition becomes a man and takes his place among his elders with the rights and responsibilities that accompany the coming of age. This particular young man will grow to be known as a Holy One – he is born and lives in a place on the earth called the Holy Land.

        In our tradition at this time of year we focus much of our time and energy preparing for and then celebrating the birth of this young man, Jesus. In evergreens and flowers, in ribbons and lights, we surround ourselves with festive symbols befitting the birth of someone very, very important. We revel in story and music and song in which we journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem and return. We cling to the images of a baby born in a setting we have romanticized and filled with the brightest of heavenly light. Between the manger and the Temple come visitors, Wise Men from the East and we'll mark the annual celebration of that event in the Feast of the Epiphany this coming Tuesday night. It is another meaningful and appropriate way to mark the turning of our liturgical seasons.

        Another story marks the season of Christmas in our tradition – a story which tells of a family, who, under the night sky's cover, desperately flees the violence of a man named Herod who fears the potential power of a newborn some call a king. It is ironic and sad that violence stalks Jesus' birth in a Holy Land.

        But today, though the season of Christmas in its twelve days continues, we find ourselves in the only story of Jesus' coming of age we have among the four Gospels – the Gospels included in our canon of Scripture. Only Luke attempts to give us a glimpse into the unfolding of Jesus' vocation. In a story fraught with anxiety with which every parent can identify, Luke draws our attention to the foundation of Jesus' calling to be among his people as teacher – as one who later in life will be called rabbi – one who will wrestle with the sacred texts and traditions of his people, who will glean from the law and the prophets what is needed for life – for life abundant – for peace – and for holiness of life.

        A twelve year old who, on this pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem, celebrates his coming of age, is compelled to remain, to bring to the teachers the questions bubbling to the surface of his consciousness, the questions tugging at the edges of his spirit.

        I wonder if among the texts the young Jesus and the Temple teachers engage is the prophet Jeremiah whose own voice echoes in our sacred space today. The prophet who admonishes the people that, in returning to their land from exile, they are to walk a path that does not veer away from God's desires for them to be a holy people. Not too many verses removed, the prophet will say that in returning and restoration the people are to remember who and whose they are – that amid the joy and gladness of their return from a foreign land God 'will write the law upon their hearts' (Jer. 31:33b). God will forgive the people their wrongdoings.

        The conversations between Jesus and the teachers must surely be lively, but also conversations of deep importance – otherwise why would Luke write that those who heard Jesus “were amazed at his understanding and his questions.” (Lk. 2:47) Though I must say, in my adult life I experience among children and youth a depth of understanding and comprehension of God, as well as questions of such deep importance that my own eyes are opened and my spirit renewed.

        When Jesus' parents finally come upon their son in the Temple, Mary is as frank as I would be – there is that rush of energy parents have when they discover a child or youth of their own is found in a safe place.

        The translations of Jesus' response to his mother differ. “The King James Version makes this read [did you not know I would be] 'about my Father's business' – and the New Revised Standard says; 'in my Father's house.' Luke's Greek literally translates: 'Didn't you know I had to be among what belongs to my Father?'” (H.K. Oehmig, Synthesis, p. 4, 1/4/09)

        I believe Jesus is caught up in the mystery of God and time flies, or perhaps time seems to stand still, so the young man forgets to rejoin his family and friends.

        Haven't we been so caught up in something, some activity, that time flies or we are not conscious of its passing. As a girl I could spend hours with my horse or my friends, as an adult I can get caught by a good book or in writing a sermon and time seems to slip away.

        Jesus is spending time discovering something important about who he is and who he is to become as one of God's people. The stirrings of the Spirit that surround the story of Jesus' birth will accompany him all the days of his life. There will be no separating Jesus from the Spirit of God.

        My friends, there is no separating us – our lives – our relationships from the Spirit of God. The story we hear in today's Gospel begs the question: what are our lives to be about? Who is God calling us to be? What are we to accomplish for ourselves and especially for others in the life we're given? These questions are as important for children and teens as they are for college students, for adults who work in or out of the home or are retired.

        We stand here on the fourth day of January in the year 2009 and I wonder how will we follow Jesus this year? Now that we're asked to leave the manger, now that we've heard the stirrings of Jesus' unfolding vocation, and we're told that Jesus will continue “to grow in mind and body into full maturity and in stronger relationships with God and those around him,” (ibid.) I wonder what will we do?

        As I speak the Holy Land – the land in which God spends so much of God's self trying to reach us – the land of Jesus' birth and life and death and rising – the Holy Land continues to crumble amid the divisions among her people. Are we willing to add our voices to those of many faiths calling for an end to the violence, demanding humanitarian aid reach those most in need, that on all sides of the conflict people stop the warring madness and recognize that each of us – all of us are God's people deserving a place to call home?! Are we willing to add our voices to that of our Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori's? Hers is loud and clear. She wastes no time whenever the need arises for people of good conscience to stand up and speak clearly and to act. As one of our modern day religious leaders will we follow her example in this and other issues?

        It is always costly to stand up to the powers-that-be – to those in our day whose greed or indifference or bigotry causes such great suffering. It is costly to take time from already busy lives to make time to help others. It is costly to prioritize making acts of peace and hope, justice and love a part of each and every one of our days. It is costly to leave the manger, to contemplate what our lives are to be about – who we are to be as God's people.

        We stand here on the fourth day of January in the year 2009 and I wonder what will we make of this year? The hours and days, the weeks and months stretch before us with endless possibilities. There is peace waiting to be made as each hour unfolds. There is hope waiting to be recognized in each day. There is justice to be made real in every week. There is God's love to share as these hours and days and weeks add up to months.

        There is no time like the present to begin anew – to be renewed. May we, like Jesus, listen intently for God to answer the questions bubbling to the surface of our consciousness, the questions tugging at the edges of our spirits. Like Jesus, may we spend time discovering something important about whose we are and who we are to become as God's people. And then, like Jesus, may the stirrings of the Spirit accompany us all the days of our lives. For, like Jesus, there will be no separating us from the Spirit of God. Amen.

©2009 Lorraine Ljunggren