Vicar’s sermon: 29.12.24. Luke 2.41-52

‘Haven’t you grown?’ Earlier this week we were celebrating His birth and now he is 12 years old. This time of year is somewhat confusing for those who like a beginning, middle and end: it’s the season in which those who put together our weekly bible readings indulge in the modern penchant for flashbacks and time shifting.
So, here is ‘all grow-ed up’. Twelve years old – an important age in traditional Judaism – as the child approaches early adulthood: or at least he is soon going to be able to join with the adults in discussing Torah and taking part in public worship. Around aged 12 or 13 Jewish boys have their Bar Mtzvah, girls a little earlier with their Bat Mtzvah. This is a time of transition. The child is becoming an adult: still under the care of his parents (notice he goes home and is obedient to them) but he is certainly not a babe in arms any more.
We hear the story set alongside that of Samuel in the Old Testament. The parallels are clear enough. Luke’s language purposely echoes that of the Old Testament just as it had done with Mary’s song, the Magnificat, echoing Samuel’s mother Hannah’s song in the first book of Samuel chapter 2. Jesus’ future ministry has been heralded by angels and this reference back to Samuel begins to fill out something of its nature: he will be a judge, a leader of his people. Samuel had anointed David (Jesus’ ancestor). Jesus (the anointed one, the Christ) will similarly pour out his anointing spirit upon his people. But we are rushing ahead of ourselves. Hannah’s song in the Old Testament had foretold the Lord ‘giving strength to his king and exalting the power of his anointed’ – already, with Jesus in the temple, we are being shown something of this child’s rise to prominence, something of his authority.
But what has happened in those 12 years. Of course we don’t know. Our forebears tried to fill in the gaps: there are apocryphal stories of Jesus as a child…but the Church rejected them as uncanonical, interesting (yes) but not scripture. It’s tempting to think that this child who is God (Emmanuel) looks up at us from his manger and, given a chance could answer all of the toughest questions on the Christmas University challenge. If He’s God, why ever not?
The answer lies in the assertion that being 100% God doesn’t trump being 100% human too. God isn’t hidden behind Jesus’ humanity: that would mean He hadn’t become truly human. No. The fulness of God is somehow revealed in all the limitations that come with our humanity and are actually of its essence. So, we need one another. No man is an island. We depend upon one another. We live within communities (families, villages, towns, cities). The baby isn’t pretending to need his mothers’ milk: without it he will die. He needs guidance and protection. He needs to be taught, to learn, to think.
As we see Jesus discussing the Law with the teachers in the temple we ask ‘where did this learning and insight come from?’ Again, we can’t assume that he was somehow ‘born with it’, that he had a head start because something of the omniscience of God was embedded into his frontal cortex. This gospel reading pushes us to recognise again the crucial role that Mary and Joseph played in their child’s upbringing: theirs were the values passed on to Him, theirs were the attitudes of heart and mind that shaped his thinking and being, these things don’t land on us from above (albeit that they are best received as gifts).
And so, through the dulling effects of the post-Christmas food coma this week’s Gospel has pushed me to ask questions about education and learning. What is education for? What do we want our children to learn through school? What are the best ways of teaching our children? Why do so few of our own children share our faith?
Here at St Mary’s we are rightly concerned about the whole parish and all its schools…but we have a particular interest in our church school at Green Lane: indeed church appointees have a role on the Governing body. What might the purposes of education be when looked at through the lens of faith? What does this connection between the Church and the school actually mean?
Helpfully, the Church of England has been involved in education for a long time. Of itself, this is helpful because we have a long-term view of the purposes of education. Not so our politicians. Between 2014 and the present day there have been 11 Secretaries of State for Education and policy has boomeranged all over the place. Some people see the point of education as being wholly geared towards producing people who will be able to enter the work force. Clearly that has to be somewhere in the mix, but it can’t be the sole purpose of education: being human isn’t just about being a ‘productive’ economic unit. The creative arts, for example, can be a means of adding to the GDP of the country but the humanities: literature, poetry, dance, drama surely have intrinsic value. Our schools would be dry and empty places if children did not learn how to create together, to imagine, to dream, to express themselves within safe spaces and communities that allow for youthful enthusiasm and mistakes.
In a document well worth reading entitled Deeply Christian, Serving the Common Good (2016): our national education team identified 4 purposes for Christian education that offer faith-filled contribution in a plural society
Educating for wisdom, knowledge and skills: enabling discipline, confidence and delight in seeking wisdom and knowledge, and developing talents in all areas of life.
Educating for hope and aspiration: enabling healing, repair and renewal, coping wisely when things go wrong, opening horizons and guiding people into ways of fulfilling them.
Educating for community and living well together: with a core focus on relationships, participation in communities and the qualities of character that enable people to flourish together.
Educating for dignity and respect: affirming the basic principle of respect for the value and preciousness of each person, treating each person as a unique individual of inherent worth.

These things might sound rather grand but they are set within a vision of humanity that finds fulfilment through relating well to God and relating well to one another: experiencing ‘life in all its fulness’. They offer learning that will serve the labour needs of our society but speak of so much more: of character and values that will build up our common life and affirm what it is to be human.
When Jesus goes up to Jerusalem with his parents he is shown living within a living tradition of faith: so many people are cut adrift from a source of life because they are cut adrift from faith communities. When he sits with the teachers of the law he is shown as a confident young man, able to respect and listen but also able to contribute. The emotional intelligence required to do this is considerable: Mary and Joseph can be proud, but respectful discussion is hard to find in this polarised age. When Jesus is found and returns to Nazareth he lives within boundaries that enable him to flourish before God and within his community; so few parents are able to provide boundaries within which their children can flourish.
As the carol says: ‘Soon will come sorrow with the morning, Soon will come bitter grief and weeping’. For now, all is well. The lessons he learns at home will stand him in good stead as he grows older. Pray for our families and schools as they nurture the next generations: may our children too grow in wisdom, in years and in divine and human favour.