A
pproaching twelve years of age, Jesus already had three younger brothers and one sister. The next eldest, James, would be eligible to attend Passover in two years. For this occasion, all but Jesus stayed behind in Nazareth. Eben and Jesus, living next door to each other, had “grown up” together, playing together, doing all the things boys did together. They were “best friends.”
While somewhat contemplative and withdrawn, Jesus lived in all respects as a normal child. Joining his friends playing ‘caravan,’ skipping pebbles on ponds, and chewing on weeds, he sometimes went off by himself to be alone. A casual observer might conclude that the boy was melancholy and morose. This was not the case. Jesus did seem to spend an inordinate time in prayer for an active boy and often surprised adults with penetrating questions or observations that made them look at each other in amazement; never precocious but different; playful, but rarely frivolous. Coarse references in which all boys were prone to engage, for him came less frequently. Other children in the neighborhood liked and accepted him as one of them. Sometimes, one of the larger boys would try to bully him. Jesus did not fight, but he never showed fear. The larger, more aggressive boys left him alone. He never “ran home” to relate his story of woe to his mother. For this, he won the respect of the other children. Most of the children sought to play with him. Some of the older boys were jealous of this respect and wondered that if he would not fight, how others could want to be around him so.
Jesus accepted this respect as though it were an obvious thing for others to do. It never occurred to him that he was special or, God forbid, that he was unusual. There were of course, the whispers about how he was born. Jesus did not understand these things and did not care at all to discuss them. On those rare quiet moments with his mother or father, or perhaps with them both, he would ask, “Why do I feel so different from everyone else?” Or, having heard the rumors about his birth he would wonder, Do I not have an earthly father? Am I really adopted? Or, when some of the darker rumors would surface he thought, I am Joseph’s son! I am not a child of forni . . . fornication! These things passed through his mind as a boy. But the questions did not generate anxiety or apprehension. He was a secure child. Secure with others. Secure with himself.
