Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
Christmas 2 / Year C
How was your Christmas? Mine?
Meh. In fact, almost everyone I know
had a Christmas ranging from subdued to downright joyless. Families opted not to get together. Travel plans were cancelled. And, of course, here at St. Paul’s we
suspended in-person worship. In the past
we derived some level of comfort and meaning from virtual worship and family
zooms, but the sun has set on that day to be sure. Virtual pales in comparison to being together.
Based on what I have learned this past week
about Covid cases in our parish family, I am convinced people would have been
exposed at both of our Christmas Eve services by folks who were contagious, but
not symptomatic at the time. While the
adage better safe than sorry applies, it does not fill the void left empty by
not celebrating Christmas Eve together in this place or by gathering free of
fear with family and friends.
As I ponder today’s first reading from
Jeremiah, the prophet’s vision of restoration and renewal describes so accurately
the journey we have been on since returning to in-person worship last May
through the Fourth Sunday of Advent:
·
A
remnant of Israel will return.
·
Those
who have been scattered will be gathered together.
·
The
flock will have a Shepherd.
·
They
will be consoled and shall be radiant.
·
They
will be like a watered garden and never languish again.
·
The
women will dance and the men will be merry.
·
Mourning
will give way to joy, sorrow to gladness.
·
The
priests will have their share of fatness (insert punchline here) and the people
will be satisfied.
All of these images describe the feeling I
had about our parish life as we prepared to celebrate a festive Christmas
here. We were experiencing first-hand
what the author of the 84th Psalm so wonderfully describes:
How dear to me is your dwelling, O Lord of hosts!
My soul has a desire and longing
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God.
Happy are they who dwell in your house!
they will always be praising you.
For one day in your courts is better
than a thousand in my own room,
and to stand at the threshold
of the house of my God
than to dwell in the tents of the wicked.
After being unable for so long to worship
in this space, we returned with a new and deep appreciation for this
place. After having been isolated from
one another for so long, we returned with a new and deeper awareness of how
much we value the people we know here.
Attendance was growing. The Choir
was back. Families supported several
outdoor special events. Finances are
holding steady. We are pursuing a new
and exciting outreach opportunity. While
many of my clergy colleagues are down in the dumps about what is (or is not)
happening in the churches they serve, I am the rare priest who is optimistic
and enthused about what is going on in my ministry context.
And then came Christmas. It felt like running into a brick wall I did
not see coming.
From this morning’s Gospel reading we learn
the idyllic image of the Creche scene does not linger for long. Ominous signs abound. The real possibility of danger permeates the
air. If you read the text carefully you
will discover the magi visit Jesus, not in the stable on the night of his
birth, but in a home when he is a child, most likely less than two. So the events we read about today don’t
happen in real time as rapidly as they happen in liturgical time.
Still, Joseph, who like his namesake from
the Book of Genesis, is a dreamer, receives a troubling message from an angel
while in a deep sleep. I am sure he and
Mary moved to flee Bethlehem with the same speed we moved to suspend in-person
services. The Holy Family, which was
settled around family and friends, become refugees in Egypt (of all places) where
once God’s people were enslaved. It must
have been a dark and disheartening time for them.
Sadly, so many in our world today can
empathize with them, knowing first-hand what it is to be a refugee. Just last month Episcopal Migration
Ministries resettled its 100,000 person since being formally established in
1980. That is quite a milestone and it
is good to know our church is working to welcome refugees just as various people
and communities in Egypt welcomed the Holy Family. Young Jesus experienced firsthand who he was
to become: “The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome
it.”
Through the vehicle of dreams God gives
Joseph both warnings and guidance. And Joseph
is wise enough and faithful enough to pay attention to what he is being told
and to act upon it, no matter how unwanted or inconvenient it may be. I can’t say God has ever spoken to me in a
dream, but I do believe we are offered the same spiritual guidance and warnings
through the collective insight of our parish family, and especially through the
leaders on our Vestry. Sometimes the
guidance we discern is problematic, but always it is necessary.
The good news in today’s reading is found
in Jeremiah’s vision of restoration and renewal. What we experienced in the second half of
2021 is but a foretaste of what is to come.
And the good news in today’s reading is found in the joy the poet of the
84th psalm experiences by being in God’s house. We will know this joy again, hopefully sooner
rather than later. And the good news in
today’s reading is, like the Holy Family, our time as refugees is necessary for
our own health and safety. Like them,
God is with us to see us through. And
like them, our time of exile one day will come to an end.
