Family Bonds

" Every year, the parents of Jesus went to Jerusalem for the Feast of Passover. When Jesus was twelve years old, they went up to the Feast. After the Feast, while His parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. Thinking He was with their caravan, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for Him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find Him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for Him. After three days, they found Him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. When His parents saw Him, they were astonished. His mother said to Him, 'Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.'   'Why were you searching for me?' Jesus asked. 'Didn't you know I had to be in my Father's house?' Then He went down to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them.  But his mother treasured all these things in her heart." [ Luke 2: 41-51].

December 30 is the day when we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I think that this is one of my favorite stories in the Bible about Jesus. How fascinating it is to see a glimpse into the childhood of Jesus! Of course, we assume that he was consistently obedient to his parents throuhgout His young years. Did he not teach us to honor our fathers and mothers, as was written in the Ten Commandments?  

And yet, in this instance, Jesus goes off on His own for three or four days. His parents are terrified.

I pulled a similar "stunt" when I was about five years old. I was attending half days in school, and I always felt exhausted. I told my mother one day that I needed a nap. She replied, "You are five years old. You cannot be tired. You do not need a nap."

I went to play in my room. I knew what my mother had told me, that I should not be tired since I was five years old now. Still, that bed of mine looked awfully inviting. And I was soo sleepy. I could not resist. I climbed in bed and pulled the covers over my head, for a "short" rest. Just a moment to close my eyes. . . .

It must have been the weekend, because my father was home. Many "winks" later, I woke to my father shaking me frantically. The house had been awfully quiet. Where was I? They had called me many times, but I had not answered. They had combed the neighborhood but I was missing! Just as my mother was threatening to call the police, my father decided to check my room one more time. He pulled the covers off the big lump in my bed. AND there I was, complaining that he was waking me up. I had disobeyed and taken a nap.

I always felt slightly guilty over that nap. I had not honored my mother. But, the fact was, my mother was wrong. I did need to sleep.

Growing up is like that. Sometimes we have to forge ahead a little bit, to figure out where our parents end and where we begin.

When we are babies, we cannot get close enough to our parents. We crush our faces to theirs, cheek to cheek. We plunge our fingers into our mother's mouth, and play with her hair, and gaze deeply into her eyes. We twist her sweater sleeve with our damp fingers and chew on her necklace. We want to be her.  We think we ARE her.

Somewhere about age five or ten or so, we might take off, reveling in our freedom. We do not think to tell the adults where we are. We know what we need, so we go. Our parents are terrified.

The striking thing is that Jesus made a choice at a young age. Even at the tender age of twelve, he made a choice to be with God, not with His own family.

I had to make that choice too. As I grew up, I came to realize that my parents were not telling me the Truth. I was called ugly. I was sometimes mocked for being a failure.  I was told that there is no God. I was warned not to give to charity. To think of myself first.

Gradually, I began to think for myself. I began to rethink these platitudes. All of them were lies.

I had to walk that perilous tightrope of honoring my parents, but dwelling in my Father's House.

I vowed never to hate my parents. I decided to love them as best as I could, even if they did not seem to know how to love me. I realized that I would be much worse off, if I became a hater too, angry and bitter.

I had come from my parents' house, but my heart dwelled in my Father's House. I treasure Love, Peace, Hope, Faith. My family fomented hate, bigotry, mercenary motivations, violence, cruelty.

Even when I was very young, I learned the very real value of sustained silence. God can be found in the Silence.

And when I was old enough as a young adult, I simply walked away.

I used to feel awful about that tightrope that I walked. It felt like I could never win. On the one hand, it was not in me to become my parents. But on the other hand, I could not dishonor them. I hated having to face that choice.

I do not feel so bad now, in reading this Scripture. Even Jesus walked away, when His Father called Him.

I see now, as well, that we all have to walk that tightrope. We are all called to honor our earthly parents, even the most difficult ones. But we are all called to Our Father's House; not just in the next life, but in this one.

I pray that we all discern the difference between our father's house and Our Father's House; and I pray that we have the strength to dwell in the right place.

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