12/29/24 Meditation
Today we pause a little to revel in Christmas - to nestle into some of our favorite hymns of Christmastide before we lay 2024 to rest and ring in a new year.
My message today will be a short one, in the name of singing a few more carols.
Will you pray with me:
God our Refuge,
May my words be faithful.
Like Joseph, grant us courage to trust Your guidance.
Like the Magi, teach us to offer our gifts to Christ.
May we know that even as you know what it is to be a refugee,
You continue to be our Rock, our Refuge, and our Light that the darkness does not overcome.
Amen.
Today, I want to focus on the journey that Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus take - or their transformation from Christ’s stable birth to his early years as sojourners. Having heard this nativity story so many times through the years, I know I can brush past what happens at the end of it.
Not the baby in the manger part.
Not the shepherds and the angels.
but after that.
As a child, I guess I imagined at some point Mary and Joseph just packed up their frankincense and myrrh and gold up on that donkey and made their way back to Nazareth with the God-who-dwelt-among-us swaddled up and in tow. But that’s not what happened, is it? Let’s go on the journey with them.
About 8 days after he was born, the Holy Family took the baby Jesus to Jerusalem, about a 12-mile round trip journey from Bethlehem, so that Jesus could be circumcised as was the Jewish tradition. For those of us here who have given birth, can I get a raise of hands: how many of you could have walked (or even ridden a donkey) for 12 miles the week after? And this turned out to be just the beginning of their uncomfortable journey.
About 40 days after Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph traveled to Jerusalem again, back to the temple to present him before God. Then, the wise men came, which is where our scripture passage begins. When the Magi came in search of Jesus, they went to Herod in Jerusalem to ask where they could find this newborn "King of the Jews."
Herod became paranoid that the child would threaten his throne, and issued a command to kill all male children two years old or younger. I used to think about that final verse of our gospel reading today as a child - wondering if it meant Jesus didn’t have any friends his age growing up.
Soon after the Magi’s visit, an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream telling him to flee to Egypt with Mary and the baby Jesus, since Herod was seeking to kill him. So at this point, with maybe a two-month-old child, Mary and Joseph packed up to make the journey of about 40 miles, or the equivalent of here to Estes Park.
The Holy Family traveled to what would have been an Egyptian-controlled territory, which would be outside the jurisdiction of Herod. And then they hunkered down there for as long as maybe three years, when Joseph had another dream where an angel told him it was safe to return to Israel. Then, they traveled from that Egyptian territory all the way north to Nazareth - another leg of at least 100 miles, or from here to Cheyenne, Wyoming.
So, I invite us to think about that for a moment:
When they left their home in Nazareth for the census, they were a young couple expecting their first child - with the clothes on their back and provisions for a journey of maybe a week.
Years later, they walked back home with a toddler.
I think about their families. What did they think had become of them? Did they know they were alive? How did they feel about not meeting their grandchild for years? And I think of the refugees who live among us here today. Those who risked their lives to protect their children, like Joseph. Those who, like Mary, endured very uncomfortable, dangerous journeys to give their child a better chance at life.
Which brings me to the line from Malcolm Guite’s poem about this gospel passage, describing Christ as a refugee:
But he is with a million displaced people
On the long road of weariness and want.
For even as we sing our final carol
His family is up and on that road,
Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,
Glancing behind and shouldering their load.
Catholic mystics tell of angels that walked with Mary and Joseph on their journey. While the angels were only visible only to Mary, their presence brought them both great peace of mind. Even with angels to guide them, the journey had to be terrifying.
I wonder if we are each called to be in some small way like those angels to our displaced fellow humans… Including those displaced by capitalism, racism, militarism, and all the age-old systemic injustices of the world. Maybe for you, that looks like joining in the prayers of our contemplative group towards a ceasefire in Gaza. Maybe it is knitting prayer shawls for those displaced by surgery and loss, etc. Maybe it is joining in our outreach efforts with our unhoused neighbors. Maybe it is joining the Earth Action Team and the CU Farm club in growing food for our hungry CU students…or joining a new chop saw team to help turn unwanted firearms into garden tools.
Maybe it is joining Laura in CUCC’s efforts with the Boulder Area Sanctuary and Immigration Coalition (BASIC). She is looking for someone to lead CUCC’s involvement with this group which supported Ingerid for so many years, knowing the needs of refugees among us will be even greater in the months to come.
It is my hope, my proof of Christ’s living presence among us, that this community can be a force of encouragement, justice and support to all those on long roads of weariness and want. And so it is with that hope that I invite us into reflection, on God’s presence in our own uncomfortable journeys and where we might called to be a help to others on their unexpected ones.
Today we will go right into our time of silent, personal reflection out of which Phillip will ring us with the singing bowl.
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