Here is the text from yesterday’s monologue/storytelling sermon. The meeting with Simeon and Anna help us understand the connection of the baby Jesus to the life that Jesus would live that leads to the death and resurrection–all together a cosmic turning point in history. I felt as if people would be able to make this connection in a stronger way through the use of story–especially through a parental perspective.
Through Joseph’s Eyes: When You Grow Up
Luke 2:21-40
Prelude
(Soloist sings 1st verse and chorus of What Child Is This?. Pastor moves to the manger, kneels and observes the child as Joseph, earthly father of Jesus.)
Act 1
(Joseph leans over the manger and speaks gently to the child, picks him up, and moves toward the center with him, gently rocking him).
Good morning baby boy. Good morning. Shh…. Your mother is still sleeping. We want to let her rest, don’t we? We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Mommy and daddy are going to take you to the temple today. We’ve got a few hours to walk, but don’t worry—I’m going to try to get an animal for you to ride on. You’re 8 days old today and that means that it’s time for you to be circumcised and to dedicate you to God.
Shh…. It’s okay son. It’s okay Jesus. Jesus. That’s the name you will be given today—the name that the angel told me in my dream. He said that you were to be named Jesus because you will save people from their sins. And he quoted the prophet:
“Look the virgin shall conceive and bear a son and they shall call him Emmanuel.” That’s you, baby boy. That’s you. And I, this poor carpenter, am holding you in my arms. I, the one that people talk about and insult, have been given the gift of naming you today in the temple. Me, Joseph. I will name you Jesus even though we will be in very house of your rightful father—God, YHWH, Elohim.
I don’t know why he chose me—I’m just a simple man. I work with my hands making ordinary goods that people can use. …but I will be your daddy. And when you get old enough, I’ll teach you to work like me—to make a living with wood and nails. I will try to teach you to be better at it than I am so that you can have what I haven’t had, especially the glory of our family heritage, the House of David. It sounds so silly—you were conceived by the Holy Spirit. I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two about making a living with wood and nails.
I can’t wait to get to know you. Your mother tells me that she could feel you moving in the womb and that she feels so close to you. I would like to feel that too. Who are you going to be? What are you going to do when you grow up?
(Joseph gently puts the child in the manger).
Act 2
(Joseph steps away from the manger and addresses the congregation directly.)
That wasn’t the first time or the last time I have asked that question, wondering about the future of my son Jesus. It was hard not to wonder—I had many reasons.
When we were only engaged to be married, Mary, my wife, told me that she was pregnant with a child—I knew he wasn’t mine. I was so afraid and so angry. Then an angel appeared to me in a dream and told me not to be afraid and to take Mary as my wife anyway. You may be skeptical, but I felt different after that dream. I found myself asking of this child: Who are you and what are you meant to be when you grow up?
Mary and I were wed; despite the advice of those who said I should dismiss her. We began to make preparations for the baby to be born, only to have things go wrong at every turn: we had to travel over 80 miles to appear in Bethlehem for the census. Mary gave birth to Jesus in a cattle stall. Despite this humble situation, we were visited by shepherds that night who told us about how the angels had led them to Jesus and they proclaimed him as “a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Then there was the visit from the strangers from the east who brought our newborn baby boy gold, frankincense and myrrh. What are you meant to be when you grow up?
That day we prepared to travel to Jerusalem to have Jesus circumcised and dedicated to God and make an offering for purification. It took us a few hours to arrive at the temple from Bethlehem and it was quite crowded. We shuffled through the crowds in search of tradesmen who sold animals to be sacrificed on the altar. I’m thankful that the law is so gracious, because there was no way we were able to afford goats for sacrifice. We bought two pigeons instead and made our offering.
I felt eyes upon us as we made our way further into the temple to meet with the priests. Every step we took was like swimming through a sea of people, but still, I felt strongly as if we were being watched. The crowd became strangely still as I saw him—the man that was watching us as if he had been led to us by God himself. He moved towards us with intensity and I became afraid. Mary held the child close. As he neared, I swear I could see a glow about his face. I heard the crowd muttering about crazy old Simeon, that he believed that God had granted that he shouldn’t die until he saw the Messiah. Someone cracked a joke about having to deal with that old crackpot walking the temple grounds forever, then.
Simeon, as I assumed this was Simeon, walked directly up to Mary, and took the baby from her arms! Before I could stop him (and I meant to), I felt that the Holy Spirit was upon Simeon who said aloud in a prayer to God:
‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’
We were amazed at what he said! We knew that Jesus was special, but this, a complete stranger holds our child up and proclaims that he has seen God’s salvation? Not only that, but in the middle of the temple, to proclaim that our child was not only glory for Israel, but a light for revelation for those who were not of Israel? Everyone was staring at us. I hoped that the murmurs were right: I hoped that he was crazy.
Simeon blessed Mary and I and then leaned in and spoke quickly and quietly to Mary (I could barely make out everything he said). He handed the child back to Mary and said:
‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’
It was these quiet, quick words that stuck with me. I looked at my son and thought to myself, who are you going to be when you grow up, you sweet, God-given child, that you will be opposed and be as this man says? And what are you meant to be , you that have brought your mother and I so much joy, that a sword will pierce our own souls, too?
Over the years, it became evident to us what Simeon meant. As Jesus grew, he began teaching and proclaiming the Kingdom of God.
When he was baptized by his cousin, John, people say that they heard God’s own voice saying: “this is my son with whom I am well pleased.” My son was healing the sick, casting out demons, forgiving people of their sins, and teaching with the power of the Holy Spirit.
But he also dealt with a lot of pain and it hurt us to see our boy…and our Lord suffer. When Jesus came home to preach in our synagogues, my own neighbors were so angry with him that they drove him out of the synagogue and tried to kill him. He was despised by many leaders of the synagogues. The Pharisees and the same priests who we saw in the temple were so threatened by him that they accused him of blasphemy and tried to discredit him. And then he was sentenced to death. Flogged. Beaten.
They crucified my boy! They crucified our boy! They drove the nails through his hands and into a wooden cross. And his mother watched.
Simeon was right. Our souls were pierced as we experienced the death of our son.
Who are you meant to be when you grow up? A carpenter? A teacher? A zealot?
I think Jesus’ friend Peter answered that nagging question for me. Many years later he told me a story about when he was gathered with Jesus and the disciples and Jesus asked them, “Who do you say that I am?” “You are the Christ. Son of the Living God.”
I knew he was right when I saw Jesus, risen from the dead after three days in the tomb. I knew then that that boy that I once held in my arms had saved the people from their sins, that he was the Christ, Son of the Living God.
I know that many of you are probably asking the same question about this child, Jesus, even this many years later. Who are you and what are you going to do when you grow up?
I hope that you will come to know what took me so many years to understand: That he is Jesus, the savior of the world, Emmanuel, God with us. Christ the Lord.
Reprise
(Joseph kneels at the manger and lifts out the baby Jesus)
I will be your daddy. And when you get old enough, I’ll teach you to work like me—to make a living with wood and nails. It sounds so silly—you being who you are… I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two about making a living with wood and nails.
(Soloist sings the first verse and the chorus of What Child is This?)
At times prayer becomes silent. Peaceful communion with God can do without words. “I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” Like the satisfied child who has stopped crying and is in its mother’s arms, so can “my soul be with me” in the presence of God. Prayer then needs no words, maybe not even thoughts. –
