41 Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. 43 When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents were unaware of this. 44 Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. 45 When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. 48 When his parents saw him they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously looking for you.” 49 He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” 50 But they did not understand what he said to them. 51 Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was obedient to them, and his mother treasured all these things in her heart. 52 And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years and in divine and human favor.
Luke 2:41-52 (NRSVue)
While driving through a neighbourhood in Manchester largely populated by Asian communities, a former colleague turned to me and said, “It looks like this is your place.” At first, the comment seemed innocent, even possibly a light-hearted observation. Yet, as I reflected on it, I realized it carried a deeper significance. Beneath the surface, it revealed an assumption about identity, belonging, and exclusion. My colleague, perhaps unknowingly, suggested that as an Asian woman, I naturally belonged to that space—where people of my ethnicity lived—rather than the broader community in which I resided.
This remark was more than an offhand comment; it subtly reinforced societal divisions between “us” and “them,” drawing clear lines of inclusion and exclusion. It implied that my presence in spaces outside of this neighbourhood was somehow misplaced, questioning my legitimacy in those spaces. Such encounters are not unfamiliar to me. As an Asian woman, I have frequently navigated environments where my belonging is quietly questioned—not through overt hostility but through subtle, unspoken cues. These experiences, though seemingly small, carry a lasting impact, further entrenching the “us” and “them” mentality and highlighting how deeply these divisions shape our perceptions of who belongs and who does not.
Over time, I have come to understand that belonging is not just about geography or physical presence. It is about recognition—being seen, accepted, and valued for who we are. It is about having our humanity affirmed, even in spaces that might not initially feel welcoming. True belonging transcends superficial markers of difference, tearing down barriers of prejudice and assumption to create environments where everyone’s inherent dignity is acknowledged and celebrated.
This yearning for belonging is not unique to me; it reflects a deep, universal need shared by many. Refugees who have been forced to leave their homes often grapple with finding acceptance in unfamiliar places. People of colour encounter systemic barriers and daily indignities, while LGBTQ+ individuals and families may face challenges to their recognition and inclusion. Single parents, too, often navigate societal expectations that can feel isolating. These and countless others on the margins of society remind us that belonging is not always a given—it is frequently a journey of being seen, valued, and embraced. These stories underscore the shared human desire to connect and find a place where we truly belong.
Re-imagining Belonging
The story of Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:41–50) provides a profound lens through which to explore belonging, addressing both personal and societal dimensions. When Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the Temple after an anxious search, their concern reflects a sense of disconnection from Him and a lack of understanding of His divine purpose. Jesus’ response—“Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”—redefines belonging, transcending earthly ties and grounding it in a relational connection with God.
The Temple was a central symbol of Israel’s identity as God’s chosen people, representing their covenantal relationship with God. Jesus’ words resonate with this tradition while introducing a transformative reinterpretation of what it means to dwell in God’s house.
The Temple in first-century Jewish society was more than a religious space; it was a centre of political and social power, embodying national identity and priestly authority. It served as a focal point for Jewish life, influencing not only religious practices but also societal structures and governance ( for more information on the Temple’s religious, political, and social dimensions during this period – E.P. Sanders, (1992). Judaism: Practice and Belief, 63 BCE – 66 CE. London: SCM Press). Yet, it also reinforced exclusion through its segmented access, reserving certain areas for women, Gentiles, or those deemed impure. Jesus’ declaration reimagines the Temple, emphasizing God’s sovereign ownership and relational desire over institutional control. The “house” of God is not confined by human rules but reflects a sanctuary of comfort, security, and care—a space defined by God’s inclusive presence.
In this context, when Jesus refers to the Temple as “my Father’s house,” the phrase carries layers of meaning, encompassing relational, spiritual, and political dimensions. In the Hebrew Bible, the phrase “Father’s house” frequently referred to the Temple as God’s dwelling place among His people (1 Kings 8:10–13). It is not merely a reference to a physical structure but a declaration of an intimate, familial relationship with God. This theological truth shifts the basis of belonging from ritual or ethnicity to relational grace. At a time when the Temple symbolized both God’s presence and societal exclusion—regulated by purity laws, ethnicity, and gender—Jesus’ words challenge these boundaries. By reclaiming the Temple as “my Father’s house,” Jesus reveals it as a space of divine presence for all people, not just the elite or ritually “pure.”
Jesus’ actions in and around the Temple further highlight the political nature of His ministry. By driving out the money changers (Luke 19:45–46) and critiquing the corruption within the Temple system, Jesus directly confronted the exploitation and inequality embedded in its practices. It is important to note that Jesus’ critique was not aimed at Judaism itself, but at the injustice He witnessed within a system compromised by local and imperial politics. Declaring God’s sovereignty over the Temple, He subverted the human systems that perpetuated oppression and marginalisation. These actions were not merely symbolic; they exposed the disparity between the Temple’s intended purpose as a house of prayer for all nations and its reality as a site of economic and social exclusion. In doing so, Jesus reaffirmed that God’s house belongs to Him alone and must reflect His justice, mercy, and inclusivity.
Moreover, Jesus’ reference to “my Father’s house” invites a broader exploration of worship and belonging beyond institutional walls. The Temple had long been considered the exclusive site for encountering God, but Jesus redefines worship as relational and universal. His conversation with the Samaritan woman (John 4:21–24) reinforces this shift, declaring, “The hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem… true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth.” Belonging to God’s household is no longer confined to a specific place or tradition but can be experienced wherever sincere connection with God occurs.
This reimagining of belonging challenges us to rethink sacred spaces and the Church’s role today. If God’s presence transcends physical buildings, how can the Church transform its spaces into sanctuaries of radical inclusion? Miroslav Volf captures this vision: “To belong is to say that I am accepted, loved, and valued, not in isolation but in community” (Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation, 1996, p. 53). The Church is called to embody this hospitality, creating environments where all—regardless of background—can encounter God’s grace.
As Romans 8:17 explains, through Christ, we are adopted into God’s family, made co-heirs with Christ, and given the privilege of calling God our Father. Yet, this privilege carries a responsibility: to extend radical hospitality and invite others into God’s family. The question of belonging is not ours to decide; it is defined by God’s grace, which extends to all. In Jesus’ ministry, we see this inclusivity exemplified. His declaration, “I am in my Father’s house,” transcends biological constraints and societal norms, inviting all into the spiritual family of God.
This divine adoption is not only about being accepted but also about creating space for others—particularly those on the margins. As co-heirs with Christ, we are called to reflect God’s inclusive love in our churches, communities, and relationships, ensuring that no one is excluded. True belonging, as Jesus demonstrates, is found in relationship with God, and as His followers, we are entrusted with the responsibility of sharing this belonging with the world.
This reimagining of belonging calls us to rethink our understanding of sacred spaces and our role as the Church today. If God’s presence extends beyond the physical walls of any building, how can the Church reimagine its spaces—not as sites of exclusion but as sanctuaries of radical inclusion? Miroslav Volf writes, “To belong is to say that I am accepted, loved, and valued, not in isolation but in community” (Volf, 1996, p. 75). These reflections challenge the Church to embody the inclusive hospitality of Jesus, creating environments where all people—regardless of background—can encounter God’s grace.
The Role of the Church in Embracing All
The politics of belonging in Luke 2:41–52 challenges how we define community, inclusion, and allegiance. Jesus’ choice to remain in the temple asserts His allegiance to God’s household above earthly attachments, redefining belonging beyond familial, social, or cultural boundaries. This action invites us to imagine a divine household grounded in God’s inclusive love, not power structures or exclusions.
This redefinition is inherently political, calling into question systems that marginalise and divide. Jesus’ actions challenge societal norms that use belonging as a tool of exclusion, urging us to envision a reality where the oppressed are affirmed and included. For the Church, this passage critiques exclusionary practices and calls for action. Are our communities reflecting God’s inclusive vision, or perpetuating divisions based on race, class, or gender? Do we challenge systems of marginalization or remain complicit?
Jennings envisions the Church as a “site of belonging that disrupts the logics of exclusion” (Jennings, The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race, 2010, p. 121). This calls for tangible practices affirming the full humanity of all people, particularly those on the margins. Churches must resist forces that isolate or dehumanize, advocating for justice and equity. Supporting refugees, offering sanctuary, and opposing discriminatory policies are vital expressions of this theology. However, the Church’s inclusion must be lived, not merely proclaimed. It must actively embody God’s transformative love.
As a reconciled space, the Church resists societal hierarchies, creating a community defined by solidarity and justice. This politics of belonging dismantles borders, upends hierarchies, and affirms the full dignity of every person in the household of God. The Church becomes a visible sign of the new community Jesus inaugurated, where all are embraced and included, especially those at the margins of society.
In conclusion, the politics of belonging in Luke 2 calls the Church to radical inclusivity and solidarity, offering a vision of community rooted in God’s kingdom. This requires not only theological reflection but active participation in dismantling systems of exclusion and injustice. The Church must be a community of belonging, embodying God’s love for all..
By reimagining belonging as Jesus did—focusing on relationship rather than societal status—we are called to open the doors of God’s family wide, embracing the diversity of God’s creation with love, dignity, and grace. Only then can we create a world that reflects the inclusive, transformative love of God, a world where all are accepted, valued, and welcomed home.
