Hosea 11:1; Matthew 2:13-15
Robert M Watkins
A good piece of counsel as one reads scripture is that if something is repeated again and again and again, then it probably bears paying extra attention to that detail. For example, the Bible proclaims compassion to be THE response of faith from Genesis to Revelation; therefore, we probably ought to think seriously about being compassionate. Well, here our lessons reveal another detail–a place–that we need to ponder deeply–Egypt.
“Out of Egypt, I called my son,” said God to Hosea, and Matthew reiterated it.
What is Egypt?
One of my Bible professors in college, Dr. Dan Rhodes–who was old as Methuselah then (we were convinced that he taught Old Testament because he lived through it himself)–referred to Egypt as “Them folks on the Nile”–and, yes, Egypt is as it was–the nation that grew around the flood plains of the Nile River in North Africa, an ancient and wondrous civilization that astounds simply by its age. It was also for a time the home to the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, albeit not under the best of circumstances, as they were part of the slave labor force that built the icons of empire.
It is this piece of the picture that became a symbol throughout all of scripture–Egypt was a place of non-being, a place where God’s people slid into the subhuman existence of slaves, and so, Egypt became a metaphor for existential death and nothingness. To be in Egypt was to cease to be.
Egypt exists for us, as well.
Life is tricky and a winding road with many blind alleys, spiritual cul-de-sacs, and dead ends to make it interesting. There are periods of life that ensnare us in shadows that loom and threaten us. We suffer through times when our fallibility and frailty become inescapable. Grief is real and actual, at times threatening to undo us. Worry is a companion on the journey as debts, bills, job security, children, parents, and countless others occupy fret lists. We get angry when others stand in our way of getting where we need to be, from the banal–the idiot who swipes the parking place even as we turn into it–to the profound–the colleague who lies their way past us to a reward at work. We get angry with ourselves when we fail to meet our own standards. Frustration can rob our lives of meaning as the world spins away from us and out of our control. Again and again, we find ourselves in Egypt, seemingly helpless to do anything about it.
But something remarkable happened in Egypt, something miraculous.
“Out of Egypt, I called my son.”
God was and is in Egypt. God is wherever chaos reigns. God is with whomever feels invisible, lost, and broken. God is wherever a life is devoid of all meaning for whatever reason. God is there because God promised to be there. God promised to abide with his people in steadfast love–love that never fades, dims, or vanishes unexpectedly. God is true. God is love.
That is good news for us today.
It is good news because it means that the inanity that surrounds us constantly is just that–stuff and nonsense–in the presence of God. Politicians can bluster and blow like endless hurricanes; nations can dance along the brink of war; even family members can prove all too human; but God will be God, able to redeem us from any conundrum, tar pit, or puzzle we find ourselves within. What a powerful message for us this Christmas–God is strong to save. The future looms, but God is already there.
For as we listen, God reveals redemption–”Out of Egypt, I called my son.” God called Israel from slavery into freedom, from non-being into life, and from dejection into joy. Moreover, the Exodus was not fixed in place as a single and singular event, but rather became the pattern for God with God’s people for all time. Moses literally led the people from bondage into freedom, but God also led Israel through the prophets from sin into beatitude, and, looking backward, even creation itself came to be through an exodus of sorts–from chaos into order. God loves his people–they are God’s children. In love, then, God refuses to let them waste away in whatever Egypt they find themselves within–God wills for them life–full and joyous life.
Which brings us to the Christ child whom we celebrate and anticipate anew.
Matthew reminds us of the presence of Egypt even in a context as giddy as Christmas. Matthew will not let us forget the whole meaning of the child born to Mary and Joseph–he is a savior who will save us through his own sacrifice on our behalf. To do so, he will enter our Egypt and draw us forth.
Oh, how the world railed against his presence, cries Matthew. Mad King Herod and his minions sought to be rid of any savior child, unleashing terror, murder, and sheer evil in the effort to be rid of a meddling God. In a seeming defeat, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus fled to Egypt–only in that land of existential waste could they find peace from Herod’s violence. But this was no defeat–this was communion–sweet, sweet communion–as our Savior became one with us, even in the depths of Egypt, no matter its actual form.
Jesus Christ meets us where we are, as we are, and how we are. He does so in pure, unadulterated love. He binds himself to us in every aspect of our being even though he is God’s own Son. He does so to free us from every bond, every entrapment, and every entanglement in which we find ourselves snared. He will have us free.
Matthew slightly tweaks God’s message to Hosea–”Out of Egypt, I have called my Son”–a capital “s” on that last word. God performs the Exodus miracle one more time, repeating the Egyptian Maneuver in an ultimate play that forever ends the power of sin and removes the stain of death from our existence.
This core is the center of the angelic choruses we hear this season. It is ground of all hope. It is the cause of all celebration. It is a door into joy that nothing else can close.
Children of God, hear and believe this good news for us today.
Amen.
