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Sunday, May 11, 2003
Sermon:
"A Mother's Worst Nightmare"
Scripture: Luke 2:41-52 Reverend Larry Gerber
It's
Mother's Day, and the story of Jesus in the temple gives us a glimpse into the
chaotic family life of Mary, Joseph and the child they accidentally leave behind.
While Mary is understandably concerned about her family, Jesus is more concerned
about how the family of God works.
The to-do list for the average mother is long, and always growing. At the top,
in capital letters, are two words: MUST REMEMBER. It's a deluge of self-imposed
demands: Write thank-you letters ... Buy new ballet leotard for daughter Emily
(blue, not pink) ... Return call from sister .... Baby sitter Saturday/Wednesday,
pay newspaper bill/read back issues of newspapers, call nanny temp agency ...
Trim son's nails ... Dentist appointment ... Return Snow White video to library
... Be nicer, more patient person with daughter, so she doesn't grow up to be
a needy psychopath. And the list does not get any shorter when we become grandparents.
If we are fortunate to be close enough to "help" or children with
their children, we also have a long list, it just changes a little.
This list is just one of the "must remember" lists compiled by Kate
Reddy, the working mother at the heart of Allison Pearson's best-selling novel
I Don't Know How She Does It (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002). Mothers around
the world can certainly relate to her endless lists, compiled while walking
through life in what she describes as a "lead suit of sleeplessness."
And on this Mother's Day in particular, we can all be thankful for the many
ways that time-and-sleep-starved mothers everywhere keep numerous balls in the
air while being pulled in a thousand different directions. "I have to try
to remember," Kate confesses. "Someone has to." Her husband isn't
much help, because if she asks him to hold more than three things in his head
at once, you can see smoke start to come out of his ears — the circuits
all blow. Women are meant to be great at multitasking, says Kate. Most men are
not. As a mom, the Mary of our text is not much different. She, too, has a long
list in her head as she and the family take Highway 101 back to Nazareth from
Jerusalem. With the festival of the Passover now over, her mind races ahead
to washing ... cleaning ... trash disposal ... gifts ... social events ... decorating
... sewing ... mending ... cooking ... negotiating relationships ... caring
for children ... Wait a minute: caring for children? Where's Jesus? It must
have been her worst nightmare; not knowing where her son was. Mary doesn't know
it yet, but son Jesus is home alone in Jerusalem. The family is now a day away
from Jerusalem, and no wonder Mary panics when she cannot find Jesus among the
friends and relatives. She and Joseph had assumed he was in the group, but when
he doesn't turn up they race back to the city, their hearts pounding like jackhammers.
Mary imagines herself being hauled before "The Court of Motherhood."
That's a court that Kate Reddy dreams she must face when she is feeling particularly
guilty about her multitasking life. In one scene, the judge asks Kate about
broccoli. Specifically, he grills Kate on whether she told her mother-in-law
that her daughter Emily loved broccoli — even though she was, at that time,
unsure of whether Emily liked it or not. "Yes," admits Kate, "but
I couldn't possibly tell my husband's mother that I didn't know whether my child
liked broccoli." "Why not?" asks the judge. "It's the kind
of thing mothers know." she mumbles. "Speak up!" demands the
judge. "I said mothers know that kind of thing." "And you don't?"
asserts the judge. Case closed. The Court of Motherhood has reached a verdict.
For Mary the minivan mom, feelings of shame sweep over her as she thinks about
forgetting Jesus. How could she have failed to check on him before leaving the
city? She knows that Jesus is a special-needs child. She knows that she is,
as theologians would later call her, the theotokos, the Mother of God. And now
God is, missing! How big is that! We think that we have crises. She's lost God!
She has no idea where God is and it is her motherly duty to find him. How could
she not know where her 12-year-old son is? As Kate Reddy admits, it's the kind
of thing mothers know. Mothers are supposed to know that kind of thing. The
gavel of judgment comes down on her head. It takes Mary and Joseph three days
to find their son, and when they do he is in the temple, sitting among the teachers,
listening to them and asking them questions. Mary is overwhelmed by a mixture
of astonishment, relief and anger, and she says to him, "Child, why have
you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you
in great anxiety." To which Jesus says, "Why were you searching for
me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Luke 2:46-49).
At first glance, Mary's words make more sense than the response made by Jesus.
We can understand why she snaps at a boy who wanders off from the family, causing
them intense anguish. We can relate to her frustration with a kid who sits around
the temple for three days, acting as though nothing is wrong, while she and
Joseph are overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness, anxiety, and fear. We won't
blame her at all if she says to Jesus, "Why can't you be more like your
younger brother James, and stay close beside us?" You can identify with
James, the kid brother who lives with Jesus. Everybody loves Jesus. This is
the James whose ossuary — burial box — made the national news last
year. At the time, Jay Leno joked about Mary making a typical introduction of
Jesus, "This is our oldest child who is, as you know, our Lord and Savior."
Then, turning to her younger son, she says, "And this is James, who's still
in carpentry school." Well, Mary isn't thinking "Lord and Savior"
at this particular point. In today's passage, Jesus is not in the temple —
he's in the doghouse and she's got him by the ear, herding him back to the ox
cart — while James makes faces at Jesus behind her back. But that's not
the end of the story. The real value of today's passage is found in the words
of Jesus, not Mary. "Why were you searching for me?" asks Jesus. "Did
you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" This is a reminder that
the true family of Jesus is bigger than the nuclear grouping made up of Mary,
Joseph, Jesus, James and the other siblings. The most important family for all
of us to consider is the far-reaching family of God. This is Your Family. Your
True Family. But How Does It Work? Jesus reminds us that his "Father's
house" is our one true home. It's a place of listening and learning, teaching
and questioning, growing and developing and deepening our relationship with
God and with one another. This house is more than a temple, more than a congregation,
more than a denomination — it's any place, really, any place in the world
where we make a profound and personal connection with our Creator, and where
we grow in faith and love. This is not to say that a mother's house is unimportant.
Far from it. There are lessons in goodness and mercy and faithfulness that are
best learned in close-knit families, but these learnings should not be trapped
forever within the home. Everything Mary did for her child Jesus helped to prepare
him for his work in the world, and it wouldn't have been right for her to prevent
him from going out to serve his heavenly Father. True, she wasn't ready for
him to leave the family quite so early. Age 12 is rather young. But she had
to let him go. A mother's house can be solid preparation for life in the Father's
house. Jesus knew this, which is why he felt so comfortable among the teachers
of the temple, and why he appeared to be so surprised when his parents came
looking for him. "Why were you searching for me?" he asked them. Didn't
you know that this is what you've been preparing me to do? Mothers and fathers
today should keep this in mind as they raise their children to adulthood. The
lessons they teach should not be designed to insulate their children from the
world ... or to keep them intensely focused on the affairs of the family ...
or to make it hard for them to break away from mom and dad. Instead, the work
of the nuclear family should prepare children for service to the worldwide family
of God. But there's another lesson from the story of Jesus in his Father's house:
Listen! ... Listen to the children! Jesus says to his parents, "I must
be in my Father's house," and then his mother treasures all these things
in her heart (v. 51). Mary begins to see the plan that God has for Jesus, and
her openness to this plan enables Jesus to increase in wisdom, and to become
the savior God wants him to be. We parents cannot figure out the meaning of
daily life on our own. It is important to resist the temptation to try to gain
control over every moment of every day. If we become too obsessed with managing
ourselves and our children, we will squeeze the vitality out of this wondrous
life we have been given. So let go. Have faith. Loosen up. Trust God. And listen
to the children. "It goes so quickly, doesn't it?" reflects Kate Reddy.
"One day they're saying all those funny little things you promise yourself
you'll write down and never do, and then they're talking like some streetwise
kid or, even worse, they're talking just like you." In an e-mail to a friend,
she adds, "Think I have forgotten how to waste time, and I need the kids
to remind me how to do it." So remember: Focus on God's family, not just
your own. Let go. Have faith. Loosen up. Trust God. Waste time. Listen to the
children. That is what grandparents are for, to help their children enjoy their
own children; loosen up a bit, enjoy even the idiosincrities, for the things
that they are doing, might not only be not wrong, but could be the most important
thing in the larger family.
Knowing where ones child or grandchild is very important; but even more important,
is understanding what that child is doing, before reacting too strongly. Sometimes
the child is doing exactly what should be done. Just because you have lost track
of him or her, does not automatically put the child in the wrong. Perhaps a
mothers worst nightmare would be to over-react to a "lost" child before
seeing the impact that child is having on The Family. Find the child that is
"lost"; assess the situation in its broadest sense, and then act accordingly.
This is God's Family, and How It Works.
Let us pray....
```````````````````````````````````````````````` Source: Pearson, Allison. I
Don't Know How She Does It. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002.
Let me know what you think. The church Email is: SLUMC@att.net, Phone: 480.895.8766