Sermon for the Exile in Egypt and the Feast of the Epiphany

Preached at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Mt. Kisco, NY

By the Rev. William A. Doubleday, Priest in Charge

January 5, 2014

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

We just heard a part of the story of the Magi – the wise men from the East – the Persian astrologers – the Gentile visitors to the Baby Jesus and his parents in Bethlehem – from Matthew’s Gospel. Today I want to speak to you about what the late Radio Announcer Paul Harvey might have called the REST OF THE STORY.

The fuller story is punctuated with dreams. The Magi are warned not to go back to King Herod and report the exact location of Jesus. Joseph is warned in a dream that Herod has resolved to kill every child under two in and around Bethlehem. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus flee to Egypt and after some time, when Herod has finally died, Joseph is advised to go back to the land of Israel in one dream, and then advised to go not to Bethlehem, but to Nazareth in still another dream.

The part of the story I particularly want to emphasize today is the flight into Egypt. Egypt, the land from which the once enslaved Hebrew people fled at the time of the Exodus, becomes in Matthew’s Infancy Narrative a safe haven – a refuge – a place to hide for the Infant Jesus and his Holy Family. So we have the horribly ironic and timely story of a mad ruler seeking to destroy the very Infant who came into the world to save his people. We have a rightfully fearful Jewish couple and their Infant seeking refuge in a once hostile land. In summary – Matthew’s Gospel would have us believe that while he was still an infant, Jesus was a homeless person, a refugee, an undocumented alien in a foreign land, with no place to call home.

Some years ago I sent out a Christmas Card which was a detail from a painting by the French artist, Luc-Olivier Merson, entitled “Rest on the Flight into Egypt,” which hangs at the Museum of Fine Art in Boston. It portrays the wonderfully ironic and improbable scene of Mary and the Baby Jesus - nestled and sheltered in the arms of the inscrutable Egyptian Sphinx. What a wonderful picture of historic and contemporary relationships turned upside down – almost like Isaiah’s image of the lion and the lamb lying down together.

At the very beginning of the life of Jesus Christ, refugee status, the condition of exile, and the reality of homelessness were at the center of his existence. Oppressive governments – the need to flee to a safe haven – the reality of having no place to call home – the unexpected, unplanned, undeserved realities of being out on the street or out in the desert are not 21st century inventions.

I am glad this church plays a part in taking such issues seriously in our nation, around the world, and in our communities. Monetary donations as individuals, outreach grants from the parish, individual volunteering, providing use of church space, serving a Community Thanksgiving Dinner, contributing to Episcopal Relief and Development and other reliable charities, and a willingness to listen to people’s stories and when appropriate offering tangible assistance, are but a few of the things which we do to help. Still the scope of the need far exceeds what churches, synagogues, and the private sector can provide. The so-called safety net for those in severe need or crisis in our society is badly worn and leaking badly.

There is no shortage of refugees, exiles, and homeless persons scattered across our nation and the world. Religious and ethnic groups in a variety of nations – for reasons beyond their control – face war, violence, death, destruction, or despair. Each year seems to bring new groups of refuges into our consciousness. Natural and human disasters – hurricanes, floods, tornados, volcanic eruptions, fires, and crime - also create their own special kinds of refugees and exiles who need our prayerful concern and active response.

But let me be clear, it is not only to the realities of refugees, exiles, aliens, and the homeless that I believe today’s Scriptural story speaks. I believe that there are probably a significant number of people here in this church who now or at some point in their lives have felt like or have been refugees, exiles, aliens, or even homeless.

There are adults, and even children, rejected by their families of origin who can never go home again, or when they do it is a painful ordeal. There are people whose previous experiences of church, of a particular congregation, or of some aspect of organized religion has been so abusive or so wounding, that they come into our midst with a fear and trembling that many of us may never understand. There are individuals who at one time or another in their lives have fallen into alcoholism, addiction, or mental illness that sorely tested their health and their souls, and eventually may have cut them off from their faith, family, or experiences of fellowship or welcome. There are widows and widowers, divorced people, and bereaved persons for whom the experience of grief or loss has left them feeling almost forever cut off or alone.

We as a society also sometimes cast essentially innocent individuals into exile. Veterans return from war and find no welcome, no work, and no adequate medical or psychological care. Frail or confused elderly sometimes are consigned to nursing homes, barely to be remembered for months or years at a time. People who were imprisoned for sometimes relatively minor offenses are released into harsh realities after little rehabilitation or meaningful support, only to end up exiled behind bars again in just a short time.

There also may be a little bit of the refuges – of the exiled soul - in each and every one of us. There may be that part of us with which we are perhaps not at peace – that we may be unwilling to accept – which we have as yet been unable to integrate into the rest of our lives. It may be our anger; an almost forgotten experience of abuse long ago; our sexuality; a fractured relationship; a streak of creativity which we have chosen to scorn; of even an inner thirst for spiritual food and nurture which we have somehow managed to ignore.

So on this Sunday when we recall the rest of the story – the Story of the Infant Jesus – an exile in Egypt – a refugee from his homeland – I call upon each of us to even embrace the refugees who my dwell within each of us – the exiled parts within our very selves and souls. In the struggle for and journey towards wholeness, love, and self-acceptance, we may also find glimpses of the Infant Jesus deep within ourselves. We may recover some of our own lost innocence which awaits us each Christmas in the manger in Bethlehem and even in exile in Egypt – perhaps even at rest in the arms of the inscrutable Sphinx.