Feast of the Holy Heart Attack

Tradition has it that St. Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, died before Our Lord reached adulthood. He is nowhere mentioned in Scripture during Jesus’ ministry and since he was probably much older than Mary, most scholars theorize that Joseph passed away while Jesus was still a youth.

Well, no reason to theorize anymore. St. Joseph definitely died when Jesus was young. The proof is found in this week’s gospel reading. This Sunday, December 27th, is called the “Feast of the Holy Family,” but it really should be called the “Feast of the Holy Heart Attack.”

We read this week the only biblical record of Jesus as a boy. He was twelve years old and the whole family traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover feast. When it was all over, we read, “After they had completed [the feast], as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it.”

Now, we have to cut Mary and Joseph a little slack. In today’s culture it would be unthinkable for parents to leave a big city without knowing the exact whereabouts of their child. But back in those days people traveled in big groups of neighbors, friends, and relatives. As the caravan was getting ready to leave the city, Jesus was probably right there with the group. When they set out for the trip home, his parents, no doubt, were certain the boy was still among them.

Plus, we have to remember that Jesus was twelve. As we all know, all teens and pre-teens, even sinless and perfect ones, would rather be eaten by wolves than to be seen in public with their parents. Even in ancient Palestine it was surely the epitome of uncool to be within a hundred cubits of mom and dad, especially when some of your buddies were around. Mary probably held Joseph’s hand and said, “Don’t worry, dear, it’s just a phase he’s going through.”

So they left the city, and as the reading explains, “Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives.”

They had been walking for a whole day! They had put a fair number of miles between themselves and Jerusalem. Mary and Joseph tried to be calm at first, casually approaching their relatives. “Hi Uncle Max. Nice donkey. Hey, uh, by the way, have you seen Jesus lately? No? OK. Problem? No, no, of course not. We just, uh, haven’t seen him in while.”

Just think of what was going through their minds as they went from person to person, only to hear the same reply: “Jesus? No, I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s with the Schwartz boys.”

The Bible says, “Not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him.” With all due respect to God’s holy Scripture: what a wimpy, emotionless sentence! Can you just imagine how absolutely panic-stricken they must have been? Their precious son, the miraculous gift God had given them a dozen years earlier, was missing!

They had to travel all the way back to the city (an uphill journey), and there were no CD players or satellite radio stations to drown out their thoughts. The only sounds they heard were sandals hurriedly slapping against the ground, hearts frantically pounding in their chests, and unspeakable fears silently screaming in their heads.

I know that when my daughters were younger, when one of them was “unaccounted for,” even for a few minutes, I could feel my heart and entire central nervous system begin to buzz with 50,000 volts of adrenaline. The fear and panic would well up from within. And that’s just with a “missing for a few minutes” episode. Mary and Joseph had no idea of Jesus’ fate for three full days!

During those three days, I wonder how many times Joseph replayed in his head the amazing events surrounding Jesus’ birth. The appearance of angels, the vivid dreams, the remarkable escape from danger, the undeniable hand of God so amazingly present at every turn. I wonder if Joseph wondered why God had not protected them this time. Or how could he possibly go on living if it turned out he failed in his sacred mission of raising and nurturing the boy.

When they finally found Jesus safe and sound in the temple, dazzling the priests and teachers with his wisdom, Joseph, who by custom should have done the talking, could not. It was Mary who cried out, “Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” Many translations of the Bible use the word “sorrow” instead of “great anxiety,” indicating that they already may have begun to grieve and mourn their loss.

I know this is pure conjecture, but my guess is before this episode occurred, St. Joseph was a robust carpenter in the prime of life with wavy black hair blowing in the breeze. When it was over, however, he had become a frail man with frequent chest pains and thin gray hair falling out in bunches. 

Raising kids is never easy. Even if the parents are saints, and even if the kid is the Savior of the world.