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Sunday 31 December 2006

Adolescent Christ

The Adolescent Christ

“And Jesus grew in wisdom and maturity, and in favour with God and men.” Luke 2.52

I was sitting with old friends this week discussing their children. I remember each of the five being born and have seen the two oldest married. The fifth child, a precocious twelve year old, had come to London this week to see the spectacular new production of Much Ado with her parents.

But our conversation was taken up with the fourth child; an unusual child, now a teenager; his parents describe him as ‘special’. There’s nothing as far as anyone knows ‘wrong’ with him, but since 11 or 12, he has been a strange boy, completely unlike his four siblings.

As parents, they are mystified. His upbringing was no different to the others and yet they wonder how this delicate soul will cope in the world as he grows older and hopefully more independent.

Most parents experience a degree of wonder, bewilderment and sometimes anxiety, as they watch their children pass through adolescence. Where will it all end?

Ten years ago I visited Nazareth, and climbed the 250 steps up to the Church of Jesus the Adolescent. Although it’s French Gothic in style, its foundation stone was laid just 100 years ago. It affords a wonderful view over Nazareth’s rooftops and the Galilean hills.
It is the chapel of a trade school, run by the Salesians of Don Bosco, where teenage Palestinians are trained, some still to be carpenters – a church dedicated to a boy their own age – the adolescent Jesus.

We can visualize the baby Jesus (although cannot grasp exactly how he is God). We have a mental image of the man Christ Jesus, although almost invariably framed by those blue-eyed, blond Jesuses around the Sunday School walls and in our confirmation bibles.

But an adolescent Saviour? - gawky and spotty with a voice that can’t make up its mind – it’s difficult to imagine. And as for a ‘sinless’ teenager – it makes us redefine our understanding of the sinlessness of Christ.

The Bible is remarkably silent about the years between Christ’s birth and his final three years of public ministry.

There is just this one incident recorded, which Luke introduces with the verse before today’s Gospel: "the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him." (40) This is to look back on the previous 12 years. Then Luke finishes the story by looking forward to the adolescent years and early adulthood: "Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favour". (52)

Perhaps the purpose of the story is to remind us that the incarnation was a reality at every stage of the human life of Christ, from conception to death on a cross. He was as we are, and yet always lived in perfect harmony with his heavenly Father.

I wonder what his self-understanding was as a 12 year old? We all dreamed then, didn’t we, that we were someone special; we were somehow different; our thoughts were somehow more profound than others’. We had a destiny. And when we discovered what sex was, we knew we must have been adopted, for our parents could never have done anything like that!

Jesus must have had such thoughts and shared them with close friends on the hillsides around Galilee. He wondered who he would marry, or if he would marry.

And here in the Temple, as he approaches his thirteenth birthday and official Jewish manhood, he is caught up in the spiritual and religious discussions of the day.

Luke’s account mirrors the story of the boy Samuel. Interestingly, throughout world literature, you will find endless stories of precocious 12 year olds discovering their destiny. We were thinking of Harry Potter and the more recent Eragon at Midnight Mass, but there are parallels in Moses, Cyrus, Alexander, Apollonius, Si Osiris and Buddha, to name but a few.

There is nothing supernatural here in Luke’s account however, and although the boy discusses well what he would have been taught in school, he is not ‘teaching the teachers’. You only find that in the apocryphal writings such as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the Arabic Infancy Gospel.

Jesus is simply growing in his spiritual awareness and understanding of the grown up world.
A point John Pridmore makes in the Church times this week when he writes: “There is a life in relationship to God appropriate to the years when the child is becoming an adult. It’s good news for Year 7s.”

Jesus tells his parents, who have been so desperately looking for him, that he must be "about his father’s business", or “in my father’s house” – the Greek is impenetrable here, but either translation gives the right flavour.

Mary and Joseph are not the first parents of adolescents who are baffled by their behaviour and their answers. Jesus is not the first teenager who doesn’t know what his mother is so worried about. It happens again in his adult life when she is worried that he isn’t eating well. He is possible the only creator of the universe who has ever been told by his mother to put a vest on because it’s cold out!

All parents must go through the pain of letting their children grow away from them. They must know how gradually to let go. For if they hold on too long or too tightly, there will be tears before bedtime and probably years of therapy.

We don’t know what Jesus meant by this strange reply. Had he at this age grasped that he was in some unique relationship with God? He knew the village gossip about his own birth. The other boys at school must have made jokes about his mother.

But it would not seem possibly for a 12 year old even to entertain the possibility that he was God made human. On the other hand, maybe it was easier for a 12 year old than a 33 year old?

Whatever, it is evident that he had at this age a clear sense of vocation, even if it was as yet unclear as to what this would mean.

As we pray for those around us who are ‘growing up’ we should remember that early aspirations are often correct indications of where they are heading.

I’m just reading John Cornwell’s fascinating memoir, A Seminary Boy (Fourth Estate, 2006), which is a deeply moving account both of a child’s powerful sense of vocation and of the bewilderment of perplexed and sometimes angry parents failing to make sense of it.

So as we continue to keep the Christmas Feast of the Incarnation – God as baby, boy and man;
as we stand at the door of the 2007th Year of grace;
let us pray for and nurture the adolescents among our families and friends;
some of them ‘special’, like my friends’ son;
and let us pray for ourselves, that as the years go by, it may be said of us as it was said of our Lord:

“And Jesus grew in wisdom and maturity, and in favour with God and men.” Luke 2.52

Sunday 24 December 2006

Midnight Mass 2007

Christmas Midnight Mass Incarnation

“And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory.” John 1.14

Like most families, we have developed various traditions around Christmas. I and my 5 brothers and sisters and their families never attempt to spend more than 3 hours together in the same house – or even on the same continent. This year two sisters are in Florida, one in the South of France, a brother in Dubai and another in St Alban’s. It’s a tradition that has kept us a big happy family.

There are so many traditions wrapped around Christmas, some more recent than others:
Nine Lessons and Carols– 1880
Queen’s Christmas Message on TV – 1957
Christmas Trees – 1840s
Christmas Cards – 1844
Christmas Crackers – 1850s
Christmas Pudding – well not as we know it, but 14thC
Christmas Day falling on December 25th – 330
Midnight Mass – 340
The Nativity Scene – 1223
And in recent years of course, Hollywood has got in on the act. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without that now greatest of traditions, an epic sword-and-sorcery blockbuster.

Harry Potter wrestles with the evil wizards, corrupted by their own power. The various Lords of the Rings struggle with good and evil. Last year it was schoolchildren again, entering Narnia to do battle in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.

This year, it’s the turn of Eragon, a larger-than-life story of dragon riders, cruel sorcerers and evil despots. It’s certainly action-packed but somehow doesn’t match up to the subtly of Tolkien or Lewis.

It has all the usual ingredients that we love in our ‘grand’ stories. An orphan boy lives with his uncle out in the sticks, discovers amazing powers and leaves home to be schooled in the ways of magic and dragon riding, and along the way, to ‘fulfil his destiny’. So far, so good – and so very similar to Star Wars, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings... But what is missing in this year’s Christmas blockbuster, and it’s quite a substantial omission, and a departure from tradition, is God.

Or, to be more specific, a Godlike figure: a venerable sage with a pure white beard whose powers are to be feared, and whose wisdom can only be dismissed at great cost to the hero. Chances are that in the course of events the old man will also end up sacrificing his life for the greater good, only to be resurrected in a form even more powerful than before.

Step up, Obi-wan Kenobi, Albus Dumbledore, Gandalf and the Oh-so-obvious Aslan. You are God-types in our Christmas epics.

And this brings us to the tradition that lies behind all our Christmas tradition.

For in all the best tales of sorcery and magic; in the most loved heroes of our myths and sagas; there is a longing in all of us to discover the extraordinary, behind the ordinary. It is a human yearning for a deeper significance to our life on earth.

As Christians, we believe this immortal longing is part of God’s gift to humanity. It means that at our best, we long and strive for peace and hope and love and justice and a better world.

But much more than this, all these myths and Christmas epics point to our longing for God himself. As Augustine says: “He has made us for himself and our hearts will not rest until they rest in Him”.

And here, in this ordinary baby, born to a peasant girl in Palestine 2000 years ago, is the most extraordinary event in the 15 billion years of our cosmos. God, who created all things, became a human being and lived among us. He entered all the pain and the heartache of our world, which is why we celebrate his birth by celebrating, at this altar, his death.

But here we celebrate also his resurrection, for he is Emmanuel, God with us for this life and in the life to come.

At this Midnight Mass we repeat the belief and the hope of Christians throughout the world and down through the centuries: that this is not another grand myth of magic and miracles. It is the underlying Truth of the Universe; it is the transforming Truth of the Gospel; it is the Truth that, in the words of Jesus, sets us free, to live life to the full – an extraordinary life.

Of course we have become so used to myths, that we hardly dare believe that this is a true myth; that God can be “born in us today”. Yet that is what we celebrate around the world tonight

Father Alan quoted from a John Betjeman poem this morning, and his familiar words sum up what most of us feel when faced with the miracle of the incarnation; the enfleshment of God in the baby Jesus:
And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things...
…Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was Man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
May you have the happiest of Chrismasses and sense the extraordinary presence of Christ in your own lives.

“And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory.” John 1.14