It was the way in which the minivan careened into the church parking lot that instantly told me it was Mom and Dad seeking their lost daughter.
It happened – no lie – Christmas Eve after the early Vigil Mass. Throngs of people leaving the Church, happy and laughing, anticipating the evening ahead spent with family and preparing last minute details for the following morning of celebration. So many new and returning faces, which a pastor always loves to see.
Toward the end of the line, however, was a woman holding the hand of a child clutching an oversized green turtle-like stuffed animal, and all three of them – including the Stuffie – looked frightened. “Father, this little girl’s family left church without her.”
Now one can only imagine what went through my head in just such a moment. I was simultaneously judgmental of the offending parents and inwardly anxious, wondering what the next best step was before the next Mass crowd began arriving. Frustratingly, the little one didn’t know her phone number and couldn’t tell anyone Mom’s first name; she was of no help whatsoever. Gratefully, though, the woman clutching the child’s hand had seen the family before, so this was not – hopefully – a Lifetime Christmas Abandonment movie in the making.
By the time we started to piece together some details, any stragglers in the Church had gathered, all trying to figure-out ways to track-down parents and resolve this “Child Lost in the Temple” scenario, 2024-edition. They weren’t going to leave me alone to figure this out on my own. Bless them for that.
As we discussed the reality of needing to call the police, it was then that the van came to a screeching halt in our parking lot’s fire lane. Doors flung open. Mom sprints in a panicked dash to the church’s front door, crying as she flung them open: “Have you seen my …”
And then the spontaneous tears, the embrace … the all-around relief. The family, as it turns out, had come in two separate cars, each parent-driver thinking that the daughter returned home after Mass in the other vehicle. An honest, real-life human moment.
Never before has the “Finding in the Temple” Gospel of this Holy Family Sunday been made more real to me: the emotion around it; the reality of the messy moments of life that happen when we least expect them – when we are doing our very best to make ends meet; to hold it together; to be on top of our game.
Even then, we can still lose our way. We still can mess-up royally. We get it wrong. We live-out the reality of our humanness.
It’s into these very moments that the Lord wants to be invited. It’s for this very reason that God-became-flesh and dwelt among us.
So many thoughts are swirling as I write this homily-reflection, especially having lived a close-reality of the Fifth Joyful Mystery this past Christmas Eve.
Firstly, I am struck by the various ways of seeking that came into play, both in the Temple where the Lord was teaching as well as in the little Catholic church on Bow Street in Elkton.
Loving and worried parents seeking a lost child in both cases – and both moments speak to the power of love that will not rest as it seeks out the lost. Mary and Joseph didn’t stop until they found their son. The same is true (albeit on a different level) for countless families today who desperately cry out to find children and grandchildren (and other loved ones) who have been lost in a variety of ways: to addiction; to mental health issues; to anger and fear. So many young people – and the not-so-young – are lost these days, but alas -- very few are actually lost in the Temple.
But it is to that very place – the Temple of God’s Love – where we who seek the lost must run. It is there where we place before the Lord the fears and hurts and sins that hold our lost loved ones in chains. When we bring their pain and struggle before the Father in the very place where we worship and receive His Son, we are truly placing our loved ones into His Heart and at the foot of His Cross, where He alone heals and binds up wounds. Thus, He tells us: keep running here to the very place where your prayers and sacrifices are received on behalf of the ones who are truly lost outside of the Temple.
Remember, the ones who are most lost are always sought-out by the Heart of God, often through us. Never stop running on their behalf to the place of prayer and worship where Christ’s Heart is always found.
Secondly, there is something beautifully authentic about the seeking-journey itself. Although for both Mary of Nazareth as well as the Elkton mother of the lost child, their search was fraught with some natural worry and anxiety, it was in the actual quest to find lost love where authentic trust and love grew. Isn’t that the craziest thing when it comes right down to it? It takes losing something (or someone) meaningful to realize just how much we rely on God. It is searching moments like these where our intentions and motives are purified and in which we recognize the need to stay humble on the journey to find the very thing our heart seeks: wholeness and completeness.
Mary and Joseph would not have been complete without their Son. Elkton Mom would not have been whole again without knowing where her daughter was. None of us is complete until our restless hearts come back to God, in all humility and in complete and utter trust.
It is a hard truth – but a vital one – to state with boldness of heart: we all must make this journey of seeking God in order for our lives to be made complete. Otherwise, we are walking around as empty shells, filling our lives with everything but the One who satisfies. In the end, God uses these very journeys to make us fully His. Never fear the journey.
Lastly, it is worth noting that Jesus’ response to His mother’s statement – “Why have you done this to us?” – was not said with any hint of sarcasm or disappointment. It came from the heart of God who wanted to teach us what real holy obedience looks like.
The modern person hates that word “obey” – except when it comes to the obedience to our own egos and selfish desires. Who is anyone else to tell me – especially the Church – how to live my life?
And yet, the Son of God showed us in this Temple discovery the road to virtue and selfless love. Jesus was both fully open and obedient to the Will of God His Father and also fully respectful and docile to the will of his earthly parents, Mary and Joseph. Doesn’t that blow your mind? God allowed himself to be formed – out of humble obedience – by two human parents who loved him very much and were willing to pour out their lives in love for him.
Obedience to authentic authority that guides with both love and truth – be it parent or Church or other agency placed over us -- is something that we cannot disregard. It is, rather, the voice that God often uses to form our hearts to know Him, love Him and serve Him in this life so as to recognize Him in the next. It was Archbishop Fulton Sheen who reminded his audiences back in the 1950s: “When we stop listening and being obedient to the genuine moral authority that comes from Church and home, the state steps into the vacuum as a tyrant.”
Food for thought these days … Pray about that, please, especially as parents who guide your children to virtue and righteousness.
As Mom and daughter were leaving Church after their reunion on Christmas Eve, I overheard Mom ask her daughter this question: “Were you scared, sweetie?”
To which her little one replied: “Yes. But I did what you told me: ‘If you ever get lost, stay where you are and I promise I will come find you.’”
A love that seeks. Obedience that listens. Safety and wisdom found in the Temple.
Such is the story of every holy family willing to walk the journey of faith, especially when the road gets a little (or a lot) messy.