Merry Christmas! Yes, we are still very much in the celebratory time of Christmas. The Magi and Epiphany will soon arrive, as evidenced by the hymn we just sang. Having been raised Episcopalian—and in a family that loves to celebrate the uniqueness of everyday of the year—I am accustomed to accentuating all twelve days of Christmas! I have never understood the majesty and mystery of the Nativity of Our Lord being confined to one day.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not pointing a finger at those who can only pause briefly to celebrate Christmas or those who have already taken down decorations. I know life is busy, other stuff happens, but to me it is such a sad sight to see all the marvelous build up to Christmas come crashing down immediately after we sing Silent Night. Trees strewn in the gutter on the Feast of St. Stephen. Twinkling lights unplugged and boxed away for no one to see by New Year’s Eve. Is there a sadder sight in the world than those inflatable lawn ornaments once the air has been let out of them? It’s as though Frosty or Santa Claus melted in the yard, which would make sense given the unseasonable temperatures. Even if your decorations are securely boxed up in the attic, I invite you to dwell a little longer in the Season of Christmas, for the Incarnation is not so much to be adorned with flashing lights as it is to be experienced within our lives.

We as a species struggle with what it means to have God come among us. Preachers do their best to point towards the mystic meaning of Christ’s coming, but words fall short of capturing the love that brought heaven to earth and earth to heaven. So, instead of rushing on today, let’s just stay here a little bit longer in the manger, in Jesus’ childhood, in the warm glow of the light of the world.

Christmas Day may be over, but everything does not have to deflate like the blow-up decorations, so that we are left lightless in the cold and dark of winter. Let us continue to ponder in our hearts and experience in our lives Emmanuel—God with us.

So how do we sit here with him who came to save us? Back before folks were undecorating I saw a sign, which read: “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” While I wish the sign were written “Wise people still seek him,” it would not make as much sense, seeing as though the Magi were specifically men. Still the sentiment beckons us to continue to wonder and wander seeking God with us. While attempting to find the incarnate God, I sometimes make it too complicated. I think I need to go on an elaborate pilgrimage, pay for an expensive retreat, and take on unattainable disciplines. Sure, I might find God in any of these, but I would do well to search for Christ in the most obvious of places. This was precisely the dilemma that Mary and Joseph went through in today’s gospel story—they searched for Jesus, but neglected looking for him where they left him. I do not blame them!

It was the Festival of Passover, and every good Jewish person was in Jerusalem. This meant that crowds were everywhere. Those going would travel in large groups, dozens and dozens of people from small towns walked and rode together with one another. For this reason, parents would often not worry about their children, especially as their children reached the age of maturity. In that culture, Jesus was almost an adult at age twelve, so Joseph and Mary would have been more concerned about other children.

When Mary and Joseph realize that Jesus was missing, I get an image from Home Alone, the movie, when Kevin’s mother finally realizes they have left him home alone in Chicago while they traveled all the way to France. Except instead of shouting, “KEVIN!!!” Mary would have yelled, “JESUS!!!” Now, as you may recall, at the end of that film Kevin and his mother are reunited with a joyful embrace. This was not what seemingly happened in today’s gospel. Mary said, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” I can see Mary grabbing Jesus by the ear when she says “Child!” This is not a loving, playful nickname, rather this is a cutting label for the almost “mature” Jesus.

This is the only canonical instance in which a biblical writer described Jesus as anything other than a baby or a full-grown adult. Even in early puberty, he possessed such wisdom. All had been amazed at him, but what is more astonishing is his response to his anxious parents. “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

We can read this in multiple ways: we might think Jesus was being an angsty teen who was bristling at his parents’ worrying. “Why were you searching for me?!” could be a flippant comment. However, Mary and Joseph had gone all over the place looking for Jesus. My own son ran and hid from me in the front yard once for about three minutes, and thinking about missing him for three days causes my blood pressure to skyrocket!

Maybe the tween Jesus was not being emotional, but truly curious, as he wondered, “Why?” Why were you searching for me when I’m almost an adult! Why were you searching for me anywhere other than in God’s house—in my Father’s house? His questions pierce through the generations and coax us to wonder for ourselves why are we searching for him and where are we searching for him?

At that point in time, Jesus was speaking specifically of the Temple. As Christians we believe that we have been adopted as children of God through faith in Jesus’ death-conquering-love in the work of the Cross and Resurrection. So, the Holy Place has been expanded beyond just one spot to all of Creation. And yet, here we are worshiping together in what many of us would call a thin space—a holy place—a home where God dwells!

God is most definitely alive here at All Saints. This community has shared almost 100 years of prayer, praise, service, discipleship, and worship! God is working through us to reach out and serve our community. We form disciples of Jesus from birth to death. Our preschool ministers to our neighborhood and beyond. We gather around tables for fellowship and fun! As Mary Bea talked about in her All Saints’ Sunday sermon, the cross and oak wreath, which hangs so beautifully in our Nave serve as beautiful symbols for God’s working in us.


The circle of oak leaves reminds us of Abraham’s hospitality under the oak tree at Mamre. They form a circle, which points to the unity of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There is still an opening within that circle—a space, which helps us know there is always room for the other. We are called to welcome everyone into our sphere, until Christ returns to complete the circle. We are doing this more formally as we build up our Invite. Welcome. Connect. Ministry here at All Saints—let me know if you are interested in these efforts. We will also have a good opportunity to practice hospitality with our incoming Rector Brad, and his family.

Seeing symbols—oak leaves of hospitality, a circle with room for another, a table where all are welcome—seeing these symbols come to life within our community helps me to see that Jesus is here, the Spirit is here, God is with us. Where do you see God? Here? In God’s Creation? In a beloved friend, child, or parent; a sibling or a spouse? What about in the stranger or the other—that one who makes you anxious or annoyed, angry or afraid? God is in all of these people—God is in all places.

In the Season of Christmas, we are called to set aside intentional time and space to see that Christ comes to dwell with us—in all times, in all people, and in all places. Sometimes we rush... through these services, through seasons, through our whole lives, such that we never slow down. We miss that God is with us. In this season of the Incarnation when we celebrate that God comes to dwell among us, we are invited to sit a little longer in the manger and the mystery. Jesus wonders, why are you looking for him? If you want to find him, looking here during Christmas is a good place to start, but don't forget to see him in your everyday life!