The Rev. Margaret Watson
St. Margaret's Episcopal Church & School
Jeremiah 31:7-14 | Psalm 84 | Ephesians 1:3-6, 15-19a | Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
Joseph had a dream: Get up and take the child and flee. Can you imagine what was going through Mary's mind when she was awakened by Joseph? She could have said "Do what? I just had a baby and you want me to get up and take the child and flee to Egypt!"
Anyone who has traveled with children knows it isn't easy. Routines are messed up, crankiness becomes the norm, exhaustion and over excitement become the new routine. I remember traveling with my family when I was a child. There were five of us kids in the family and two dogs, at least. We traveled extensively. We traveled to go camping. We traveled to go backpacking, and we took theme trips-like two weeks to cover all the California missions. And, believe it or not, even for this native California baby, freeways and multi-lane roads were not universal. Traveling took time. And, while the prospect of what awaited us at the end of the journey was exciting, the journey itself usually was not. Even in my day, there were no mobile TVs, no videos, no Gameboys, no electronic gadgets. There were books and crossword puzzles, but I got sick if I did anything but look out the window. So we did what many of you probably did, we invented games. Like counting out of state license plates and other games which usually resulted in lines like, "Don't make me stop this car!" And, of course, the real clincher: we always wanted to know, "Are we there yet?"
Now imagine the trials of traveling two thousand years ago. Roads, even Roman roads, were at best dusty paths. Hours and hours, days and days of dust and animal waste. There were real dangers on the road. Robbers for instance and soldiers could by law make instant demands upon you, force you to go out of your way and carry their burdens for them. And then there were the necessities of travel. Water had to be carried, for yourself, of course, your family and your animal if you were lucky enough to have one, the creature that carried your burdens. And then there was food—dry bread, dried fish, dried fruit. At the end of the day, most towns and villages did not have motels or even inns. One had to rely upon the kindness of strangers. Now amplify all of that for this holy family. Imagine Mary being awakened in the middle of the night, discovering she must leave immediately and embark upon a two hundred mile journey. The heck with preparations like food and water. Just get out of town, hurry, save your child. Run! And, imagine, if you will, what Joseph and Mary experienced in their flight from Bethlehem. Imagine the panic and fear of being hunted by the government soldiers sent by Herod. Imagine the flood of sorrow as they pushed themselves out of town away from all that is familiar, family, friends and country. Imagine the flood of sorrow as they hear of the weeping and anguish left in their wake. Because, yes, fearing the rumor of a king, Herod did send soldiers to take the life of every baby boy born in that region. Joseph, Mary and the baby flee to find life in exile.
In contemplating this Gospel, tempered by the catastrophic events in the news this week, this is what struck me: exile, death, even at the birth of Jesus. This is what this Gospel is about, exile.
And my cry, why God? Why? My reflections led me this way. The exile experienced by the infant Jesus is experienced again and again by the Christ. After his baptism in the Jordan, Jesus walks into an exile in the desert where he is tempted with worldly power by Satan. After supper with his disciples in that upper room, Christ enters a dark night of exile in prayer and solitude in the garden. And, ultimately with his cry from the cross, the exile of abandonment, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Exile was there at the very beginning in His birth, and at the end. So, I ask myself, how can exile be good news? Why does the Church read this gospel? Why exile now while we are still basking in the glow, the comfort and delight of the nativity? How can exile be good news?
There are not solitary events of exile. It seems if you know God, you know exile. Adam and Eve were exiled from that other garden. All of Israel was exiled, first to Egypt and then in the desert, wandering, wandering. And, certainly any of us have experienced our own exiles, our own forty days and nights in a wilderness. Why God? Could it be that we only know the good if we have suffered? Can it be we only know where home is if we have been in exile? Many would say yes. I would say that is only the beginning, only a superficial understanding of exile. St. Paul says to us in the letter we heard today, "I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Glory, may give us a spirit of wisdom and revelation as we come to know Him so that with the eyes of our heart enlightened we may know what is the hope to which He has called us...His glorious inheritance, the immeasurable greatness of His power."
Our hope, our inheritance, the power which has been given to us is embedded like a jewel in a crown of exile. This is the revelation we pray for then, the seeing with the eyes of faith with the eyes of our heart, begins with this. Do we not see all powerful God Almighty embodied in the powerless vulnerable baby? With the eyes of our heart do we not see that baby lying in a manger, the word manger itself a pun on the word to eat. We can know the Almighty Creator in bread and wine so that we can see God as food. With the eyes of our heart do we not see exile as a way of life which takes us to the very edge of that which is familiar in Christ. Because in our baptism we are in Christ, by Christ, with Christ. In Christ we see then with the eyes of Christ the eyes of our heart. We must in wisdom strive to see that exile is not a lesson to be learned, not a state of being to be endured, the opposite of Grace. Exile should not lead us to be like children and cry, "Are we there yet?" Exile is that difficult, delightful wandering which takes us away from our own secure and comfortable selves and leads us ever closer to God because this we know: God's own self, who in becoming human flesh and human blood enjoyed an exodus and exile from heaven, an exile from heaven so that we might know that hope to which He has called us, which is heaven revealed on earth. Whenever we see, taste, hear, touch, whenever we know heaven on earth, we will be in close proximity to the cross, the crossroads of exile, the meeting of eternity with mortality. Not an exile which we endure on our own, hoping to get home, but which we have been invited to share with Him as part of His life. God enjoyed and embraced exile from heaven to share all that we suffer, know and enjoy. So, too, we have the promise to share in the one Life, the only Life in which all things are held and have their being. And it is our hope, our joy to tell, while we are yet in exile, the ultimate Christmas proclamation: God is with us. Even in exile, particularly in exile. God's own self delighted to take exile and call it home. This is good news: Here in this worldly exile, God is with us.
Amen
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