“In my Father’s house”

[Journey with Jesus – Day 3]

Imagining what it must have been like for Jesus to grow up with the realisation of who he was, and the significance for him of being in the temple in Jerusalem, aged 12.

It was the same routine. Every year we would go up to Jerusalem with our family – from Nazareth it was a journey of week or so – for the Passover festival. We would gather with thousands of others to celebrate the deliverance of God’s people out of Egypt. As the final of the ten plagues that rained down on Egypt because of Pharaoh’s repeated refusal to let God’s people go, the angel of death passed through the land, leaving none of the firstborn sons alive in that land. Our people were spared due to the blood of lambs that had been daubed on the doorposts and the angel of death passed over us. Every year we would tell that story of the great rescue of God’s people. It was our story too. I enjoyed everything about this festival – even the journey was fun, as we travelled with my parents, brothers, sisters and cousins, although we would do our best to lose ourselves amongst the crowds. Imma and abba never really worried, because they knew were safe. Sometimes they wouldn’t check on us for a day or so. As we walked up we would tell each other about some of the other great stories of our faith – how God provided for his people in the wilderness, feeding them with manna and quail, how he led them to victory in the promised land, how he raised up David to be the great King of his nation, but also how the nation lost its way, and fell into disobedience and then exile.

I learned all these stories from imma as she told me these and many more every night. Her favourites were stories of children born through God’s miraculous action – Isaac born to Abraham and Sarah even though they were old, the beginning of God’s promise to Abraham about being the father of many people being fulfilled; Joseph, born to Rachel, who would grow up to save his brothers from starvation; Samuel, born to Hannah who had cried out for mercy, who would be a great prophet; even Solomon who had been born to Bathsheba who had been caught up in David’s unfaithfulness, who built the temple in which God could dwell. She told me too about the promised rescuer – an anointed one who would be the true shepherd of Israel, a King who would reign forever. She told me these stories and there was something different in her tone when she did so – they had extra meaning and significance for her.

Then, one sabbath evening, after synagogue, she told me about the scroll from the prophet Micah which had been read out that morning. “Yeshi, dear, do you remember that part of the scroll which spoke about Bethlehem?”

“Yes, I remember – that though it was small and insignificant, the one would be born there who would grow up to shepherd Israel and become its true King.”

“That’s right, well remembered!”

“Bethlehem is where David was born, wasn’t he, imma?” I asked.

“Yes, he was. You were born there, too, you know.“

“I remember abba telling me – you had to travel all that way for a census. You must have been exhausted!”

“We were, but we knew God was with us, and his plans were being worked out. It was right that you were born there. You’re a son of David, after all.”

Then imma paused as if considering whether to continue with what she was going to say.

“Yeshi, dear, it’s about time you knew who you truly are.”

And she began to tell me – about it all, the angel’s visit, the birth of my cousin John, the shepherds, magi, and as she told me it all made sense in my mind – things I had wondered about but not really understood before. “You see,” she concluded, “You have been born with a purpose. You are the one we’ve been waiting for all this time – the Son of God, born to save,” and then I saw she had tears in her eyes, “But you will always be my dear, dear son.”

We had this conversation just a few weeks before journeying to Jerusalem that time. I was twelve, about to enter into adulthood. Though I was joining in with all the fun and banter we had it felt different this time, more significant. As soon as we got into Jerusalem, there was only place I wanted to be. In my Father’s House. So, after celebrating the Passover, while others made preparations to return home, I made my way to the temple courts, where a group of scholars were sitting and talking. I slipped in and began to listen. They were talking, arguing about the Scriptures and I felt instantly at home. I loved to listen and to ask questions, so I could understand more. They didn’t ask questions about where I had come from – I think they assumed I was local. Anyway, the time flew by – I wasn’t conscious of it – I just felt so much at home – more alive than I ever had done; it was wonderful!

Then, I heard a commotion. “Yeshi! There you are!” I looked up and imma and abba were rushing towards me. They looked very flustered and quite annoyed. “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

“Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” I replied. Well, abba and imma looked amazed. They were still angry – I think they were going to say something else, but something made them stop – a flash of understanding crossed their minds. Abba looked pained. I got up and ran into their embrace. “I’m sorry I worried you, abba and imma. Let’s go home.”

“Thanks for looking after our son,” abba called out.

“You’re more than welcome,” one of the scholars replied. “Your son is truly extraordinary. His understanding and answers have been remarkable. He’ll be a rabbi one day – he’s a natural!”

“Thank you,” abba replied.

So, we began to make our way back home to Nazareth.

“I promise I will obey you from now on,” I said.

I stopped for a moment to take in the view of the temple as it shone in the sunshine. Something stirred within me as I took it in. I knew I would be back and that it would play an important role in my life, although I wasn’t sure what. For now, I needed to be at home with my parents and family, and though it pained me to leave my Father’s house, I knew that my Father would be going with me somehow, that I wouldn’t be alone.