New
Testament: Luke 2:41-52
Someone once told me, “If you want to know who you
are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”[1]
When Jesus was a child, I took him to the Temple. But all his life long, his
feet kept bringing him back there, even after I begged him not to return, even after
it was clear what would happen if he went back.
We named him “Jesus” on the eighth day, just as the
angel had said. My parents had raised me to strictly obey the Law given to us
by the Lord, and Joseph’s faith was strong, too, so our son was circumcised on
the eighth day, as the Law of Moses proscribes.[2]
We could do that at home, in Bethlehem, in our synagogue. But on the fortieth
day after I had given birth, we had to go to the Temple in Jerusalem so the
priest could declare me “clean” once again.[3]
We were supposed to bring a lamb for a burnt offering and a turtle-dove for a
sin offering, but Joseph and I were so poor – we had nothing! – and our home
priest gave us a note saying that the Temple should accept two turtle-doves
from us instead.
The journey from Bethlehem to Jerusalem was about five
miles as the crow flies, but with a newborn baby in tow, it took us the better
part of a day to get there. We were already exhausted by the time we arrived at
the Temple gates, and then we had to push our way through the crowds just to
get close to the tent of meeting. We were completely out of patience, when all
of a sudden, out of nowhere, an elderly man ran up to us – he practically
pushed Joseph out of the way! – and asked if he could hold the baby.
“What is his name?” the man asked.
“What’s yours?” I asked in return. Maybe more than a
little impatience had worked its way into my tone. It had been a long day, and
Jesus was a newborn. Do I need to say more?
“I’m Simeon,” he said simply. The look in his eyes was
one of kindness and I didn’t have the energy to put up a fuss, so I handed my
son over to him. As soon as Simeon took him from me, Jesus’ eyes opened wide.
They stared at one another – this old man looking deep into the eyes of my tiny
son. For at least three minutes there was sheer silence – the sounds of the
Temple faded into the distance – it was like some kind of secret message was
passing between them.
Simeon’s voice cracked with emotion as he cried out,
“Master! Now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence
of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your
people Israel!”
Joseph and I were astonished, but the man wasn’t done
with us. Turning his gaze toward us, he blessed us – I don’t exactly remember
the words he used, because after the blessing he handed Jesus back to Joseph,
took me by the shoulder and said: “This child is destined for the falling and
the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed – so that
the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own
soul too.”
He stepped back and smiled at me. It was a kind of
joyfully pained smile, if that makes any sense. I wanted to ask him so much.
How did he know about my son’s destiny? Had he met the angel as well? How did
he find us, among all these people? But before I could say a word, I heard
Joseph calling my name. I turned and saw an old woman, jumping up and down and
shouting.
“Listen to me! All of you!” she called out. “This is
the promised one! The anointed one! The one who will bring redemption to our
city!” She was grabbing people by their sleeves and begging them to come see
our son. “He’s beautiful! Beautiful!” she cried. “Praise the Lord!”
I was touched, but I also knew that we still had to
make our sacrifice and be on our way. I nudged Joseph (he obviously didn’t know
what to do about this woman) and we started moving toward the tent of meeting.
The woman – I later found out her name was Anna, and that she was a prophet –
motioned for us to be on our way, even as she continued talking.[4]
As we walked away I heard her say: “Blessed is the
king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the
highest heaven!”
After we made our sacrifice, it was time to return
home. Not to Bethlehem, where we’d been staying since Jesus was born, but
home-home: Nazareth. That year, it took us a whole week to get back. And my
mind was running the whole time. Angels and prophets had made pronouncements
about my son – and he was just a tiny baby. Even then, it felt like the weight
of the world was on his shoulders, even if I didn’t fully understand what that
meant.
From then on, we made the journey every year to
celebrate the festival of Passover. We always took Jesus – and later, his
brothers and sisters – with us. They weren’t required to go – I wasn’t even
required to go[5] –
but we felt it was important that they see the holy city and we wanted them to
experience that ancient story of God’s provision and care for our people.
It was twelve years later. We were about a day into
our return journey when Joseph and I began to ask our friends and relatives
where Jesus was. The more people we asked, the clearer it became that he wasn’t
with us. We were terrified, and immediately backtracked, frantically searching
for our son. It took us three days to find him, and there he was, in the
Temple. He had, apparently, been talking the priests’ ears off all this time.
On the journey back, with Jesus constantly in our
sight, Joseph and I talked about what the people in the Temple had said to us.
“There was this one priest,” Joseph said excitedly,
“He couldn’t believe how much Jesus knew about the scriptures! ‘Your boy’s got
a voracious appetite for the Word!’ he said, and he said we must be teaching
him diligently.”
I smiled, but only half-heartedly. “What is it, Mary?”
Joseph asked.
I hesitated at first, but he kept prodding me. “Well,”
I said. “The priest who spoke to me wasn’t so complimentary. He said Jesus was
asking what he called ‘pointless’ questions. Asking why it was unlawful to heal
someone on the Sabbath, or why we are supposed to despise the Samaritans, or
why it mattered if a person ate at the same table as a tax collector or sinner.
Joseph, he even started asking about why it was necessary to bring sacrifices
to receive forgiveness!”
“Well that he got that from you,” Joseph said with a
smile. “Remember how you griped about those turtle-doves?” And I knew it was
true. I had always felt that God’s forgiveness shouldn’t come at a price.
“I know that,” I said, “but he can’t go around saying
these things to the priests! This one
said to me, very directly, ‘You’re lucky he’s only twelve. If he’s not careful
next year, when he’s an adult, he’ll face an adult’s consequences.’”
Joseph got angry at that, and I didn’t blame him. It
upset me, too. Enough so that I stayed home the following year and refused to
allow Jesus to go to the Temple. I was trying to protect him – to keep him from
getting into trouble. And I succeeded, for a few years. But boys grow up. They
listen less and less to their mothers. It took more than twenty years, but Jesus’
feet led him back to Jerusalem – and back to that Temple.
When I learned from one of his followers that he
planned to return to Jerusalem, I knew I had to go with him. I only wished
Joseph was alive to make the journey with me. I couldn’t believe my ears as we
walked into that city – that ancient, bustling city – and my son’s followers
began shouting those words I’d heard thirtysome years before: “Blessed is the
king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the
highest heaven!”[6] I
wanted him to correct them, to explain that he was no king. At the very least,
I wanted him to give it some time before he went to the Temple.
“Please,” I begged him. “What will the priests
think? What will they do? Think of
what will happen if you go there now.”
“Mother,” he said, not unkindly, “Think of what will
happen if I stay away. This is my calling, my mission. To bring good news to
the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, to bring a message of sight to
the blind and freedom to the oppressed. To proclaim the year of the Lord’s
favor! That message should be heard in the Temple. That message is what the
Temple stands for! They’ve just forgotten.”
I looked at him and said, as firmly as I could: “They
will kill you, Jesus.”
My son put his hand on my cheek and looked deep into
my eyes. He gave me a look that was the mirror image of Simeon’s all those
years ago: a mixture of joy and pain.
When he arrived at the Temple, he made a scene. He
couldn’t help himself, it seemed. He started driving out the merchants saying,
“You are doing all these rituals and they don’t make a single bit of difference
in your lives!”[7]
From then on, he was a marked man, and I finally knew what Simeon meant when he
said, “A sword will pierce your soul, too.”
“If you want to know who you are, watch your feet.
Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”
My son’s feet took him back to Jerusalem, back to the
Temple, back into harm’s way. Before that, they took him to the poorest people in
Judea – to those who were hungry and weeping and persecuted[8];
they took him to the beds of sick and dying children[9],
to colonies for lepers[10],
to those haunted by all kinds of demons[11];
his feet took him to the homes of sinners and tax collectors[12]
and religious leaders[13];
his own feet even took him to that awful cross.[14]
And now I am trying, along with his followers, to
travel that same path.[15]
I am his mother. I gave birth to him. I planted kisses
on those feet when they were so small that both could fit in the palm of my
hand. I taught him to walk with those feet. And now he is teaching me to walk
with mine.
Amen.
Preached January 3, 2016, by Rev. Joshua T. Andrzejewski
[1]
Frederick Buechner, The Alphabet of Grace.
HarperCollins, 1970. (25)
[2]
Barbara Brown Taylor, Feasting on the
Word: Year C, Vol. 1. “The Importance of the Temple in Jesus’ Life.” Westminster
John Knox Press, 2009. (167)
[5]
Paul J. Achtemeier, Feasting on the Word:
Year C, Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. (167)
[7]
Amy-Jill Levine, “Luke” in The Jewish
Annotated New Testament. Oxford University Press, 2011. (141)
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