Finding Jesus: Imagining the Holy Family's Search for Jesus

FINDING JESUS: Imagining the Holy Family's Search for Jesus

It was almost evening, and the caravans were regrouping to pause for a supper break.

Although the men and women traveled in separate caravans, families stopped and gathered for meals along the way. James and Judas joined their mother, Mary of Clopas, who was setting out a blanket and taking some hard cheeses from their provisions, along with figs and pomegranates she had procured in Jerusalem.

When she saw her nephews, Mary, the mother of Jesus, asked them, “Is Jesus coming? He was with you, was he not?”

James answered, “We have not seen him. He is probably with his father.”

Mary of Clopas was most pleased with her sons’ behavior in the Temple, and she praised them as well as her sister-in-law. “You have educated them in the Scriptures and in the Law so well, Mary. The elders and rabbis could find no fault with the answers they gave to their questions. Especially with Jesus. We are so blessed to have you as our dear relative, and as a teacher for our sons.”

The Blessed Mother smiled. But it faded as, looking up, she saw Joseph approaching on foot, alone. When he had caught up with the group and greeted everyone, Mary asked, “Where is Jesus? Wasn’t he with you, Joseph?”

“No, I assumed he was with you. James and Judas, have either of you seen Jesus?”

“Not since we left Jerusalem,” said James, and Judas added, “Me neither. I looked for Him in the caravan earlier, but when I did not find Him, I assumed He was with you, Mother.”

A small flutter of panic began to unfurl in the Blessed Mother’s heart. She turned to Joseph and asked when he last saw Jesus. He paused for a moment, considering, then admitted that He was last seen in Jerusalem, in the Temple courtyard. Mary tried to quell her rising anxiety, and Joseph, to soothe her, bid her not to fret. “I will search the men’s caravan.” Taking the reins of the donkey, which Mary had been riding, he mounted, saying, “I will survey the men’s caravan and see if I can spy Him.”

Mary turned around and hurried on foot to search among the women’s groups, now taking their suppers seated with their families on the grass, asking each, with rising anxiety in her voice, if they had seen Jesus, while praying silently to the Heavenly Father that He would be found unharmed.

Dejected by her fruitless efforts to find Him, she returned to where Mary of Clopas had gathered with her family, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, despite her brave efforts to hold them back. Her sister-in-law was standing, awaiting her. Mary nods her head, and Mary of Clopas puts her arm around Mary’s shoulder. “Do not worry, the Lord will protect Him,” she says, trying to offer words of comfort. Joseph returns, without their Son, and without any news of Him.

Mary is becoming agitated in her heart, although she maintains her composure. “What shall we do, Joseph? We cannot return home without Him!”

“Let’s retrace our paths, Mary. Perhaps He lingered and fell asleep at our last rest stop. Someone else will have seen Him. People know and recognize Him because He is the most handsome Son of a most beautiful mother.”

Mary was not distracted by Joseph’s endearment. It was getting dark, and the first pangs of hunger began to gnaw at her stomach, mingling with a rising nauseous feeling. The holy couple traveled silently for the most part, Mary seated on their donkey, and Joseph walking beside her, holding the reins. Each was searching memory to locate the last place they had seen Jesus.

Soon they came upon a small group of men, pilgrims traveling on foot, walking staves in hand. Joseph approached them, greeting them with peace according to Jewish custom. He told them that he and his wife—he turned and pointed to Mary—were seeking their Son Jesus, who had separated from their Galilee-bound caravan. Joseph described Him as 12 years old, handsome, with curly, chestnut-colored hair, wearing a plain white linen tunic with a dark blue border at the hem. No one had seen a young man of that description. The travelers wished His parents Godspeed in finding their Son.

As darkness fell, Joseph now began to be anxious for Mary’s safety. He suggested that they stop at the first inn they come to and spend the night. “We will be refreshed for the search tomorrow at dawn,” he said. “There is no moon tonight, and we can hardly see a few feet ahead. Besides, our animal needs rest and water too.”

“Do you think I will be able to rest at all, not knowing where my Jesus is?” she cried, beginning to release the tears she had been valiantly suppressing. But on account of her pity for their donkey, she obeyed Joseph and agreed to put up in an inn for a few hours till dawn.

They found a room. Mary took the bed, and Joseph rested in a chair, a blanket on his lap, his back to Mary, the only way he could grant her privacy in the small room. Neither slept. Both silently turned over in their minds all the calamities that could have befallen Jesus and accused themselves bitterly of neglect. The Heavenly Father had entrusted His only Son to them; how could they have been so negligent of their precious charge? Joseph felt doubly guilty, because of Mary’s anguish.

Not wanting to distress Joseph any further, Mary willed herself to lie quietly on her bed, spilling silent tears into the bedcover. She imagined that Jesus had fallen and broken His leg and was lying somewhere in pain. Had he developed a dreadful fever? He was feeling well throughout the trip, wasn’t He? Was this the beginning of the terrible sufferings of the Messiah predicted by Isaiah? How could she live without Him?

Joseph too imagined unspeakable mishaps. Lions were known to inhabit the hills; had Jesus been attacked by wild animals? Had he fallen asleep somewhere and been awakened and beaten by robbers? What if He had cried out for help and no one had heard? Joseph’s sole mission in life was to protect his holy family; how could he have failed so miserably?

Secretly, both despairingly thought that they deserved to die.

This was how they spent their first night without Jesus.

As the first rays of dawnlight streaked through the cracks in the aged wooden walls of the inn, the holy couple arose hurriedly. They prayed to their Heavenly Father that they would find Jesus today and that He was not harmed. They were not refreshed, as Joseph had promised. If anything, they were sickened by their dreadful night imaginings.

Joseph went to reclaim his donkey from the stable. Mary gathered their things together. Neither wished to eat. They nibbled absent-mindedly on stale bread and pieces of hard cheese as they resumed their urgent quest.

Joseph dared not ask Mary how she slept; her reddened eyes were eloquent enough. They agreed to head straight for Jerusalem along the road they had followed; with persistence, they could arrive at the city gates by late evening. Each time they met someone along the road, Mary pulled her veil forward and gazed downwards in an attitude of modesty, attempting to hide her tears while Joseph queried the traveler. But she was soon sniffling, and her throat became sore from swallowing her tears. Joseph sorrowed in his heart on her account as well as for Jesus.

It was dark when they reached the city gates. Mary dismounted, and both she and Joseph asked everyone entering and leaving the city if they had seen Jesus. Traffic through the city ceased around midnight. Exhausted as she was, this time Mary refused to spend the night in a room. “I was raised in the Temple,” she insisted to Joseph. “I know the city, its streets and squares. There is light from many houses and buildings. If you obtain a lantern, Joseph, we can carry it through the neighborhoods and continue our search on foot until we reach the Temple complex.” “But, Mary, you are so tired.” “I did not rest last night, and I don’t intend to spend another night like that, dear Joseph,” she said firmly. “I must find my Son.”

Joseph brought their donkey to the stable and borrowed a lantern from the groomsman. For the remaining hours of the night, they zigzagged their way through the city streets seeking Jesus in every shadow, in every pilgrim sleeping under a tree. Mary approached the houses of some of the families she knew, and Joseph knocked at their doors, despite the late hour. They had to endure rudeness from the people who shouted from inside the house for them to go away—didn’t they know how late it was?

Mary endured even worse, at another home of one of the Temple virgins with whom she was raised. When the woman of the house saw who it was inquiring about her Son, she reminded Mary of her scandalous pregnancy, saying, “I knew no good would come of your creature when I saw how low you and your betrothed had fallen.” She slammed the door in Mary’s face. Having deeply envied Mary’s extraordinary beauty and goodness, which far exceeded hers or that of her own daughter, she felt smugly justified that their plainness had never tempted either of them to such disgrace.

O, to be so misjudged, so misunderstood, so maligned. Mary was to remember this when she saw how the Pharisees and Scribes treated her Son with such unjust animosity.

It was now the morning of the third day without Jesus. Where had he spent the last two nights, his first time away from his parents? It was only with great self-discipline that Mary could hold herself together with her usual dignity.

Joseph, normally a man of few words, was now so grieved that he could scarcely summon even one word of comfort to offer his distraught wife. But, valiantly, he said to her, “Mary, we will find Him. God our Father will not abandon Him or us.” His words, however, seemed empty even to him.

Spying some shepherds outside the city gates, he went to ask if he could have some milk for his wife, who had not eaten today. One of the shepherds, an elderly man, took the small wooden bowl Joseph proffered to him and milked a ewe into the bowl. “May God’s blessings be upon you,” said Joseph. The shepherd nodded and continued on his way.

Joseph brought the warm milk to Mary. “Drink, Mary. You have not eaten. You need your strength.” Mary thanked him and drank, leaving some for Joseph. “No,” he said, “drink it all.”

They made their way to the Temple gates. It was still early. Just a few days ago the Temple complex was thronged with thousands of visitors. When Joseph thought of this, he realized that Jesus could be anywhere in these vast courts and chambers. They could walk right past Him and not know it.

In the Court of the Gentiles the moneychangers were setting up their tables, and the animals for sacrifice were being fed. They crossed this outer court and entered the Court of the Israelites, another sprawling expanse that led to the Temple itself.  “Have you seen our twelve-year-old Son, Jesus?” they asked everyone they met. At last they encountered someone they knew, who said, “Yes, we saw him yesterday. But didn’t you leave with the caravan yesterday?”

“Yes,” Joseph answered, “but somehow we were separated.”

“I heard that He likes to debate,” said the man. “Perhaps you will find him debating the rabbis.”

They moved towards the inner courts. And in the Court of the Priests, which neither Mary nor Joseph was permitted by law to enter, they glimpsed Jesus in the center of a circle of the Scribes and Pharisees. He was being questioned vigorously, even argumentatively. Mary caught His eye and signaled to Him, but He merely nodded in acknowledgment and continued His debate.

Tears began to roll silently down Mary’s cheeks. “He was never mine,” she thought to herself. “He belongs to the Lord.”

Turning to Joseph, she placed her head against his chest, covering her eyes and weeping silently. Joseph was at a loss. He wanted to assert his parental authority, but he could not enter the rabbi’s court in front of all the doctors of the law. He placed his hand tenderly on Mary’s head.

They waited an hour for the debate with the Pharisees to conclude and for Jesus to join them. There was nothing sheepish or apologetic about His expression on greeting them. “Son, why have you done this to us?” exclaimed His mother. “Your father and I have been searching for You with great anxiety.”

“Why were you looking for me? Did you not know I must be about my Father’s business?”

He said this without apology. This was more shocking than their separation. Joseph was baffled but hesitant to respond. Mary was hurt. Jesus had never asserted Himself in this way before, nor done anything like this. What did He mean by “His Father’s business?” Did He not care how they suffered searching for Him?

Joseph turned away, swallowing a lump in his throat, knowing that he was not the Father Jesus was referring to. He went to retrieve his mount and belongings. Entering the stables, he returned the lantern and paid the groomsman. While he took care of this, Mary and Jesus walked together in silence through the courts of the Temple to meet Joseph outside the city gates.

As they journeyed back to Nazareth, for the most part, Mary rode the donkey, and Jesus walked alongside with Joseph. It was a long day’s travel, and it was a lonely trip. There was none of the gaiety, camaraderie, and hymn-singing of the caravan. They were beyond exhausted from the journey, their anxiety, and the search. Mary and Joseph understood that Jesus had reached a milestone in His life and mission, and they kept their own counsel for most of the way. Mary pondered this incident, turning it over and over in her mind, as if it were a puzzle to be solved.

Later she was to realize that her suffering over the three days He was missing as a Child was nothing compared to her suffering at His death and the days in the tomb. She recognized that it was not hers to know or understand God’s inscrutable purposes. “I am the handmaid of the Lord,” she reminded herself. And she recalled Simeon’s words to her in the Temple twelve years earlier, that “a sword will pierce your heart.” Yes, her heart was pierced—with anxiety, fear, and guilt. She was most acutely wounded by her Son’s reproach. And by her own bewilderment, too, which lodged in her throat, as if to choke her.

She folded her anguish in the leaves of her heart. She folded it in poignant, uncomprehending memory.

And, as always, she remained obedient to God’s Will, as Jesus was obedient to her and Joseph from that day forward, until the day He left home to begin His public ministry.

I, too, have pondered this story in my heart. And I learned from it that when I was lost, Jesus was waiting to be found in the House of God. He was there the whole time. And I saw that the search is painful, but necessary.

Unless we seek Him, how ever will He be found?