The Holy Family as Refugees? by The Rt. Rev. Andrew D. Smith
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Second Sunday of Christmas January 3, 2016 Trinity Church Hartford
Here we are already on the tenth of the twelve days of Christmas, beginning a year of significant changes for Trinity Church, and still in Christmas Season, reading stories from the gospels of the earliest years of the life of Jesus.
On Christmas Eve we read of the birth of Jesus from Luke’s gospel, who tells how Joseph and Mary came south from Nazareth to Bethlehem where Jesus was born, and how shepherds alerted by angels came into the stable for a look-see.
Now today, the Second Sunday of Christmas, we read from Matthew’s Gospel, which says nothing of the pre-natal trip from Nazareth, but tells of the arrival of the magi, their meeting with Herod the so-called Great, and their visit to the house — notice that detail — in Bethlehem, which appears to be Joseph’s and Mary’s hometown. Warned to avid returning to Herod, they went back east by another route and Herod, furious, targeted the male children of Bethlehem to eliminate the threat to his power.
We don’t often read in Matthew’s Gospel the story that follows, of the “Flight of the Holy Family” from what in this gospel was their hometown of Bethlehem, south to “Egypt,” because of the military massacre Herod planned. In the nighttime Joseph and Mary with their son escaped to the south, into the desert and across the border, to be outside the jurisdiction of the government and power of King Herod.
Imagine the fear, the loss and risk and unknowing contained in those few lines of the Family’s flight.
Fear, in that the parents got word (from an angel) of an immediate threat — that Herod was to launch a pogrom in Bethlehem, seeking to execute boys less than two years old (which included their son Jesus) in an attempt to eradicate the threat to his earthly throne. Loss: Abandoning their home, relatives (Elizabeth and Zechariah lived nearby, they say in Ein Kerem), possessions, livelihood. Risk: nighttime travel into the desert. Unknowing: among a foreign, non-Jewish people (Nabateans?), how would they be received? Would any one there provide them help, food, shelter, hospitality, work? (Thank God, yes, they did. For hospitality is the code of the desert as it is the expectation of the Bible.)
And then, living in “Egypt,” even when Herod died, they could not return to Bethlehem, because Archelaus, Herod’s son, was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod. They rightly were afraid to return home. And after being guided in a dream, they went way north outside of Judea to the district of Galilee. There they made their home in a town called Nazareth.
Again, a long uncertain journey, to escape persecution and possible death, across several borders, without means or support, to, according to Matthew, resettle in an unfamiliar country and having to start all over again.
Look at them. The Holy Family: innocent and threatened, living in terror for their lives, leaving everything, fleeing persecution, crossing borders — The Holy Family ==== refugees, blessed to have found welcome, a new home, and livelihood, and roots, in Nazareth of Galilee.
Can you see how their story is so completely similar to the plight of the victims of the civil and military chaos of countries of central Africa and the Middle East? Those who were living productive lives, caught up in political powers and plotting beyond themselves they want no part of, threatened by war, serving as hostages or in forced so-called marriages, executed summarily because of faith or whatever, bombed in civilian centers, schools, and hospitals, farms and shops and homes destroyed. …
Who have become refugees in our day: their safety threatened, leaving their homes, roots torn up; the uncertain risk of flight, crossing a political border into an unknown country and people, and future, unable to return.
As with the Holy Family, can we ask the same questions for them? Can they find help? And food. And shelter. Hospitality. Will they find work, a new life?
The next question: can these refugee families of our time find those blessings here, right here, among us, in America, in Hartford, who cherish the countless blessings, freedoms, the security and opportunity which we cherish and for which we work and pray?
Yes. Let’s be the ones who welcome the refugee, the stranger, and open ourselves so others can have a new life.
Yes. Several members of Trinity have looked in to what it takes to form a neighborhood coalition, here on Asylum Hill and the West End, maybe of more of Hartford, a coalition of religious and community groups. Two of us recently visited Integrated Refugee and Immigration Services based in New Haven (disclaimer: I am a board member): IRIS is available to come to meet with us here on a Sunday later this month, to give us information about what would be entailed.
Yes. It is a huge work, and will take focused and consistent, shared leadership and long-term effort to help resettle even one refugee family. Those of us who helped resettle refugees from Southeast Asia in the 1970’s can attest to the “Jeremiah-joy” of seeing those who have lost everything flourish in the rich opportunity and hospitality our country offers. I am ready to begin again.
Yes. Even as we are looking at a parochial metamorphosis into an unknown future here within Trinity Church — the wardens’ letter arrived at our home this weekend — one aspect of Trinity that must remain fixed is our out-reaching to others in need. For our God knows of our solemn assemblies but cherishes for us to love mercy, do justice, and go humbly where goes God.
And remember how Jesus taught: On that Day the righteous will ask him, Lord, when did we see you hungry and give you food, naked and give you clothing, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or interned and visit you?
And the king will answer them, For certain I tell you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.
Yes. It’s the Gospel story. It’s the Gospel way. Together, let’s say:
Yes.