Scripture: Luke 2:41-52

You know or you are someone with indoor cats. Like them or not, they’re a fascinating species. Sleep 14 hours a day, walking around like they own the place, aloof.

Best thing to watch is when house cats run around creating drama.

Scampering into a room, then crouching down with hyper aware senses. Pouncing on a pile of papers. Running to the next room, then leaping straight up when startled.

In this atmosphere of created drama, a ball becomes a mouse, a laser pointer becomes a bug, and a string – I don’t know.

Tension, heightened awareness. Creating drama.

As they headed home from a routine trip to Jerusalem for Passover pilgrimage, (much like our routine trips to brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts and moms and dads for Christmas pilgrimage.) Mary and Joseph couldn’t find Jesus.

They started by looking close among their caravan of friends and relatives.

Then, they sped it up, back to Jerusalem.

They burst into the temple where Jesus was sitting with the teachers,

Sidled up to the calm boy in the midst of the ordinary kibbutz. Directed at Jesus, but loud enough to disrupt.

“Child, why have you treated us like this? Your Father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.”

Created tension, heightened awareness, as if the created drama of the moment would decide the outcome of the world.

Who are we to judge Mary and Joseph, their kid was missing. We know that anxiety. Aquarium yesterday – looks behind you and panic, then remember you’re holding his hand – Why judge? Well we do it all the time. Interpretation.

Adding things to stories, hearing what we want to hear, it’s how we learn.

But evidence that they reacted the wrong way is in Jesus’ reaction. Why were you searching for me? You knew I’d be about my Father’s business.

But his parents didn’t understand.

There is dissonance in this story. Between perception and reality. Created drama, and moments of meaning. Filtered understanding and the truth.

We judge Mary and Joseph because we are like them. The crux of this story makes a theological claim about which Jesus is (My Father’s House or business); equally important is how we respond to that claim. And we are usually the ones creating drama and filtering understanding through our own perception.

Some of you familiar with Mary J. Blige – some the Young and the Restless.

Mary J. has a song called No More drama. No more pain, no more game – realizing she’s playing a created game of drama. No more drama.

Inspired bit of sampling uses the them song from soap opera the young and the restless, which is – created drama.

Or maybe I like the stress
Cause I was young and restless – two meanings 1. She was young and restless 2. It wasn’t real.
But that was long ago
I don't wanna cry no more

Why do we do it? Overreact. Get upset. Over-dramatize.

Helps to make a point (manipulate). Helps to build ourselves up (self-righteousness). Honest response to the comfort, protection and self-preservation we find in routine. They probably loved going back and forth to Jerusalem – worried about boy, sure, but they didn’t see him for a whole day folks. We love Christmas routine, so much that you might have raised your voice or pouted a little if part of your holiday routine was changed. Even more so – day-to-day, things we do at work, way we keep things at home, things we read, listen to, watch. Routine to comfort, protect, and self-preserve.

So that when someone pulls out in front of us blood vessels bulge and the secret language of sailors spews from our mouth with the created drama of someone breaking into our little world and our little way and our little sense of righteousness.

Perception. Not reality.

People have been fighting this for years.

Don’t sweat the small stuff, everything’s small stuff.

Get your priorities straight.

Power of Positive Thinking.

Jesus saying do not be anxious about tomorrow.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

The way we think affects the way we feel, and then act.

When anxiety, worry, anger, bitterness arise, check our thoughts, reframe and refilter, change our thoughts, and we change our feelings.

Easier said than done – but old routines of our cocoons can be replaced by new routines of reality. That’s what Mary and Joseph had to learn.

How were Mary and Joseph to know? Angel came to Mary – child in your womb, will be called most high, Son of God. Let it be with me according to your word.

Shepherds came and told them about the angels singing words of peace.

But routine had set in – twelfth year of Passover. Maybe they could have the nice, simple family life in the suburbs. So when he was missing it became more about them than it was about him. Frantic at the loss of normalcy, frantic that what the angel said might be coming true, frantic that he might not be goofy little boy they played with. Frantic church would be less routine and more life changing. Frantic that the comfort of routine was shattered forever.

What, you didn’t know I’d be in my Father’s House, my Father’s business? This is reality. This is the truth.

And even then, they didn’t understand.

Trapped in cognitive dissonance. Trading magic for fact was no trade backs and they weren’t ready.

Happens again in Luke, women go to the tomb and are perplexed that the body wasn’t there. Angel said, why, he said this was going to happen. Comfort of cool, charismatic guy with a great message instead of reality of world-altering savior.

Even after they know, Peter comes running in looking in the tomb. His perceptions thundering around in his skull, drowning out the truth he had heard from Jesus over and over again.

Major theme of Luke’s gospel is Jesus finding what is lost – people, oppressed, shepherds, lost coin, lost sheep, lost prodigal son.

Here we see that the theme is also us finding what we think is lost – Jesus himself. Like Mary and Joseph looking in their caravan, how often do we look for Jesus’ truth in the safety of our homes and the patterns of our man-made habits – and think that he is lost. Like Peter at the gravesite, how often do we stare at the cross and sit in the tomb – and think that he has gone.

Why were you searching, he said, did you not know that I must be in my Father’s business?

That business is the reality of love. That reality is the gentleness of forgiveness. That truth is in the sobriety of peace. Where else would he be?

Life is a giant eggshell. Painted on its sides are our lies, rackets, and self-convincing half-truths of our perceptions – I must gather wealth. I must think of myself. I must think everybody else is out to get me. I must judge others. I must be self-righteous. I’m a realist not an idealist. But when we rush to the temple and see the boy Jesus at his Father’s business, the shell begins to crack, the veneer shatters to the ground and what is left is reality. Love is not idealistic, forgiveness is not foolish, and peace is not a pipe dream. It’s what Jesus lived, died and was raised for.

The quicker we see that the drama we’re so quick to create is just as odd as a cat raising fur over a fuzzy ball on a hardwood floor, the quicker we too can be about God’s business.

No more pain (no more pain)
No more game (tired of your playing' game with my mind)
No drama (no more drama in my life) just the love, forgiveness, and peace of Christ in thought, feeling and deed.