May 4, 2025: The Boy Jesus in the Temple Luke 2:41-52 Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins

The Boy Jesus in the Temple

Luke 2:41-52

Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins

May 4, 2025

Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he

was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and

they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents were unaware

of this. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they

started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they

returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting

among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were

amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were

astonished, and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father

and I have been anxiously looking for you.” He said to them, “Why were you searching for me?

Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  But they did not understand what he

said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was obedient to them,

and his mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and in

years and in divine and human favor.

______

Paul Farmer was a regular college kid in the early 1980s at Duke University with plans to

become a medical doctor. A gifted student, his plan was to go to Harvard Medical School.

But after his graduation from Duke, he decided to take a gap year. So he traveled to Haiti to

do some volunteer work before getting back to “real life.” Little did he know that this

detour would completely transform his understanding of his purpose in the world.

In Haiti, Paul witnessed firsthand how lack of healthcare devastated communities. He saw

children dying from treatable diseases simply because they were poor. He met families who

had to choose between medicine and food. This experience shook him to his core.

When Paul finally went to Harvard Medical School, he wasn’t the same person. While his

classmates were planning careers in prestigious hospitals or lucrative private practices,

Paul kept thinking about the people he’d met in Haiti. He started making regular trips back

while still in medical school, living in a rural community without electricity or running

water, learning Creole, and building relationships with local health workers.

In 1987, along with a small group of friends, Paul co-founded Partners in Health. Their

radical idea was simple but revolutionary: everyone, no matter how poor, deserves access

to quality healthcare. When experts said treating complex diseases like tuberculosis and

HIV was “too expensive” or “too complicated” for poor countries, Paul famously responded,

“The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world.”

Paul could have had a comfortable life as a doctor in Boston. Instead, he chose to split his

time between Harvard, where he taught, and Haiti, Peru, Rwanda, and other countries

where Partners in Health worked. He lived what he called the “preferential option for the

poor”—the idea that we should prioritize those most in need.

By the time Paul passed away in 2022, Partners in Health had grown from a small clinic in

rural Haiti to a global organization working in 12 countries, treating millions of patients,

and transforming how we think about healthcare for marginalized communities

worldwide.

Paul’s story reminds us that finding our purpose isn’t always about dramatic visions or

burning bushes. Sometimes it’s about paying attention to what breaks our heart, what

engages us so fully that we lose track of time, and having the courage to follow that path

even when it disrupts our original plans. Dr. Paul Turner exemplified a life of purpose, and

the world is a better place for it.

The story we read earlier about “The Boy Jesus in the Temple,” gives us a foretaste of the

kind of life of purpose that Jesus would lead.

After a trip to Jerusalem from Nazareth to celebrate the Passover, Jesus’ parents were

among many relatives and friends on the return trip home. An eighty-mile journey back to

Nazareth, this would take people back then (who were accustomed to walking everywhere)

about four days. One day into the journey, probably twenty miles outside of town, Joseph

and Mary began to be concerned that they hadn’t seen their twelve-year-old son for some

time, so they began looking for him. Now, we might think they were bad parents, not

knowing where their son was. We have images of “Home Alone” in our brains, where the

whole family left Kevin McAllister home alone when they got on an airplane for Christmas

vacation. But this group traveling together from Jerusalem to Nazareth was a large

group—this was their village. They traveled together in large groups for safety . . . the roads

back then were notorious for thieves and other malevolent folks. At twelve years old, Jesus

was nearly thirteen, the beginning of legal adulthood for boys in ancient Jewish culture. His

parents would be giving him a taste of freedom among trusted friends and relatives.

But when they couldn’t find the young Jesus, they turned back to Jerusalem to look for him,

no doubt frantic, thinking anything could have happened to him. They searched for him for

two days. After three days, they finally found him in the Temple, listening to and asking

questions of the teachers there. Perhaps the scene looked something like the scene

depicted in our stained-glass window to your right. The teachers and others at the Temple

were astonished by his understanding of the Torah. But his parents weren’t amused. Mary

said to him: “Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously

looking for you.” 

Jesus’ reply is where I want us to focus our attention today:

“Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  

This story paints a picture of a very young Jesus who had already awakened to some degree

into his purpose. “I must be in my Father’s house.” As if it wasn’t a choice for him. As if

something compelled him to not do the expected thing, but to do the surprising, even

upsetting thing to his family. “I must be in my Father’s house,” he told them. This is what I

have to do.

This thing that Jesus had to do . . . this purpose so compelling . . . this is what Parker Palmer

calls “vocation” in his book, Let Your Life Speak. We often use the word “vocation” to mean

“job” or “career”—Palmer endows the word with more power. Listen to how he writes

about vocation:

Today I understand vocation quite differently—not as a goal to be achieved but as a gift to be

received. Discovering vocation does not mean scrambling toward some prize just beyond my

reach but accepting the treasure of true self I already possess. Vocation does not come from a

voice “out there” calling me to become something I am not. It comes from a voice “in here”

calling me to be the person I was born to be, to fulfill the original selfhood given me at birth by

God.

Palmer went on to write that hints about our true calling—our vocation—can be seen in

early childhood (just like it was seen in Jesus at the young age of twelve.) As a young boy,

Palmer spent countless hours crafting handmade books using simple materials like

construction paper and glue. He would carefully fold pages, design covers, and fill these

little volumes with stories, ideas, and observations.

What’s significant wasn’t just what he made, but how he made them—with complete

absorption, losing all track of time in the creative process. Years later, when wrestling with

questions of vocation in his thirties, Palmer looked back at these childhood activities and

saw the early signs of his true calling as a writer, teacher, and communicator of ideas.

Palmer suggests that our authentic vocation often reveals itself in the activities that

absorbed us as children—things we did not because someone told us to, but because we

couldn’t help ourselves. For Palmer, those handmade books weren’t just childhood crafts

but early manifestations of his deep desire to explore ideas and share them with others.

His story reminds us that finding our calling isn’t about inventing something new or forcing

ourselves into roles that don't fit. Rather, it’s about recognizing and honoring the authentic

self that has been with us from the beginning—just as the boy Jesus in the temple already

understood where he “had to be.” Our true vocation, Palmer teaches us, is not a goal to

pursue but a gift to receive—the gift of our true self that has been within us all along.

Now, lest you think this crowd is a little too mature for a conversation about calling and

vocation, I want to suggest that you’re never too old to live more fully into who God is

calling you to be, or what God is calling you to become.

Let me tell you about Anna Mary Robertson Moses, or “Grandma Moses” as most of us know

her. Talk about finding your purpose later in life—her story is probably one of the most

inspiring examples we have!

Anna Mary was born in 1860 in rural New York. She lived what many would call an

ordinary country life—working as a hired girl, marrying a farmer named Thomas Moses,

raising five children (though sadly losing five others in infancy), and spending decades

running their farm in Virginia and later New York.

For most of her life, she worked with her hands in practical ways—churning butter,

canning food, sewing, and doing all the endless tasks that farm life required. When she had

small moments of creative time, she would make embroidered pictures to decorate her

home or give as gifts. Nothing that would make anyone think, “Now there’s a future famous

artist!”

But here’s where the story gets interesting. When Anna Mary reached her late 70s, her

hands became too stiff with arthritis to continue the embroidery work she enjoyed. Her

sister suggested she try painting instead—it might be easier on her hands than pushing a

needle through fabric.

So at age 78—an age when many people might think their productive years are behind

them—Anna Mary picked up a paintbrush for the first time and began creating colorful,

detailed scenes of rural American life from her memories. She painted on whatever she

could find—old pieces of fireboard, canvas, even old masonite.

No one, least of all herself, expected much to come from this new hobby. But in 1938, a

collector named Louis Caldor happened to see some of her paintings displayed in a

drugstore window. He was immediately captivated by their charm and authenticity and

bought all the paintings on display.

The following year, three of her paintings were included in an exhibition called

“Contemporary Unknown American Painters” at the Museum of Modern Art in New York

City. And just like that, at age 80, “Grandma Moses” (as the press dubbed her) became a

sensation in the art world.

Over the next two decades—from her late 70s into her 100s—she created more than 1,500

paintings. Her work appeared in galleries and museums worldwide. She was featured in

LIFE magazine. She appeared on television. Her paintings were reproduced on greeting

cards and fabrics.

When asked about starting her painting career so late in life, she simply replied, “If I hadn’t

started painting, I would have raised chickens.” That matter-of-fact humility was part of her

charm. She wasn’t trying to be a great artist; she was just doing what gave her joy.

Anna Mary painted almost until the end of her life, passing away in 1961 at the age of 101.

Today, her works hang in museums around the world and sell for impressive sums, one

going for over 1.2 million dollars!

Her story reminds us that it’s never too late to discover your gifts or your calling. God’s

timeline for our purpose doesn’t always match our expectations. Sometimes the most

beautiful chapter of our lives might begin in what the world considers the final act. Like

Jesus growing “in wisdom and stature,” our capacity for purpose and meaning can continue

to grow through every season of life.

So whether you’re young like Jesus in the temple, mid-career like Paul Farmer when he

found his calling, or in your later years like Grandma Moses—it’s never too early and never

too late to discover what you “have to” do in your Father’s house.

And you know where the “Father’s” house is, right? The entire world!

So how do you find it? How can you know your calling, your vocation, that work so

compelling that you just have to do it?

1. Pay attention to what absorbs you completely. Like young Jesus in the Temple. Like

the young Paul Farmer absorbed by his work in Haiti. Like Grandma Moses with her

paint brush. What is it that makes you forget time? Pay attention to that.

2. Listen to what others observe about your gifts. The art collector buying every

Grandma Moses painting at the drug store. The adults in the room at the Temple

marveling at Jesus’ wisdom and insight at such a young age. What do other people

say is your “super power?”

3. Be willing to follow your “I have to do this” moments. When your “I have to do this”

runs counter of what people expect of you, this gets tricky. But the young Jesus in

the Temple teaches us that we shouldn’t always be about what other people want us

to be about.

4. Notice what breaks your heart. What injustice in the world opens up that sensitive

place of compassion in you, that makes you misty eyed when you think about it?

Notice what breaks your heart, then resolve to do something about it.

Just like Jesus continued to grow in wisdom and stature, we must do the same. “Grow or

die,” it is said. It’s never too late to live into the fullest expression of who God is calling you

to become.

There’s a powerful story from Jewish tradition about a rabbi named Zusya. Rabbi Zusya

was a humble Hasidic master who lived in the 18th century. Unlike many of the great

rabbis of his time, he wasn’t known for founding a dynasty or writing profound theological

works. Rather, he was known for his simple piety, his deep humility, and his genuine love

for all people.

As Rabbi Zusya grew older and felt his life drawing to a close, his students noticed that he

seemed troubled. One day, they gathered around his bedside and asked, Rabbi, why do you

look so worried? You’ve lived such a good and righteous life.”

With tears in his eyes, Zusya replied, “When I reach the next world and stand before the

heavenly court, I’m not afraid they’ll ask me ‘Zusya, why weren’t you like Moses?’ or ‘Zusya,

why weren’t you like King David?’ Those questions wouldn’t frighten me at all, because I

could honestly answer, ‘I wasn't given Moses’ leadership abilities or David’s royal position.’

“No, what terrifies me is that they will ask, ‘Zusya, why weren't you Zusya? Why didn’t you

become what only you could become? Why didn’t you discover the unique purpose for

which you alone were created?’”

This story reminds us that our calling isn’t to imitate someone else’s path, even the most

admired figures in our tradition. Our deepest vocation is to discover and live out the unique

potential that God has planted within each of us. Like the boy Jesus who knew he “had to

be” in his Father’s house, like Parker Palmer with his handmade books, like Grandma Moses

with her paintings, and like Paul Farmer with his healthcare mission, we are each called to

become fully ourselves.

The most profound question we may face isn't “Why weren't you like someone else?” but

rather “Why weren’t you fully yourself?” In discovering our authentic vocation, we don't

need to compare ourselves to others—we need only listen to that still, small voice that calls

us to be who we were created to be.

A few years ago, WWJD, “What Would Jesus Do?” was a popular trope printed on bracelets

and bumper stickers etc. I don’t think that’s the best question. The better question is this:

WWJHMD: “What Would Jesus Have Me Do?” Jesus had his purpose, his calling. Each of us

has ours. Let us each resolve to lean into our unique purpose, because it’s never too late to

fully live!