First Sunday after Christmas, Year C
Luke 2:41-52 (1 Samuel 2:18-20, 26)
I must have missed this. Maybe I knew it and forgot. As Luke writes the opening chapters of his gospel, do you think he has the Greek version of 1 Samuel somewhere on his desk? I’ve always drawn parallels between Jesus and David, and Jesus and Moses, in Advent and Christmas. Sure, Mary’s song in Luke comes from Hannah’s song in 1 Samuel 2. I just thought one of Luke’s Jewish friends loaned him a hymn book! Turns out Luke knows at least the first few stories of Samuel’s life.
Luke’s first two chapters are more theology than history. A biography (bios) in those days always began with a tale of the subject’s origin that foreshadowed and supported the claims made in the rest of the story. Matthew’s preface is thorough and consistent. An insider’s version. Luke’s is more varied. With the delight of a latecomer to the traditions, Luke pulls many strands together. One is young Samuel’s story.
Both boys are children of promise. Both are conceived under irregular circumstances. Both mothers sing praise to God, proclaiming salvation for Israel and vindication of the lowly. Both boys are dedicated to God’s service. Both find their place, and their identity, in temples. Both, while very young, confound their elders with words that can only come from God.
Both stories move from setting the stage to action with strikingly similar words. (Luke 2:52 / 1 Samuel 2:26)
Why does Luke draw so many lines back to Samuel? He must believe it will give his story credibility with Jewish readers. People in those days liked to discover, “Oh. This is just like that!” as they listened to stories. Storytellers always reached into the past, to find good ground for new tales. Of course, Jesus wasn’t just like Samuel. But comparing him to one of Israel’s greatest heroes could only help Luke, as he tried to show how Jesus was more than Samuel. And David. And Moses. And Elijah.
I think there’s more in Luke’s choice of source material. Samuel grew up to be priest, prophet, king-maker, and king-breaker. In a day when revelation was rare, and God’s word in the land had pretty well dried up, God spoke directly to Samuel. It was a time of uncertainty, disunity, violence, idolatry, heterodoxy, poor and absent leadership. Through it all Samuel stood taller even than Saul, the compromise-King who got the job because the makeshift crown fit his handsome head. Samuel’s days were also the days of God’s Spirit, at loose, and sometimes out of control, in Israel.
As hero, God’s man for the hour, Samuel suits Luke’s purpose. Luke prepares his readers for the greatest story ever told. But let’s not forget the pictures of innocence, simplicity, and love in our readings today. Hannah has given her son up to God, to serve at Shiloh. She and her husband make their annual pilgrimage, as before. Now there’s another purpose. Little Samuel serves beside old Eli, but there are no appropriate vestments for a growing boy. Every year, Hannah sews a priestly garment for her lost son. Each one a little bigger than the last. Samuel grows into the role, until that fateful night, when God gave him a word: “I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.” (3:11)
In our gospel, imagine Jesus at about the same age Samuel was when God spoke to him in the temple. Mary and Joseph fear their son is lost. When they find Jesus, a mother speaks of love and grief. She feels the first cut of the sword an old prophet told her about when he blessed her baby boy in the temple (2:35). Jesus has returned to the place of his infant dedication. He is at home. Ears are already tingling at his words (2:37).
