In dreams the warning came to Joseph thus:
“Get up! and take the child, his mother: Go!
For Herod wants to search and to destroy
the Child, who is the hope and light of this
dark world. So flee to Egypt; there remain
until it’s safe for light to shine again.”
The scriptures say that this was to fulfill
the prophet’s word and God’s divine intent.
But truth to tell, there’s more than that. This flight
to Egypt shows that earth itself is not
a place where Jesus could be safe. His home -
our home - is hostile to the Lord of Love.
We tell the story as though days gone by
were different from our own more lightened days.
As though today we make an easy home
for Love. As though the Christ is welcome here
among us now. As though it’s safe for him
to be with us, to teach, to heal, to live.
But Herod’s not the only threat that stalks
the Son of God. There’s lust, and pride, and greed,
and everything addictive sold to us
in our own day and age. A market was
the only thing that Jesus overturned.
But markets rule our every step today.
And if we think that we have made on earth
a happy home for Jesus, we should think
again. His flight to safety’s not a tale
of long ago. He is not safe with us.
Our manger scenes and cradle songs are meant
for us, not him. (“Take the Child and go!”)
This was not how it was s’pposed to be.
The earth God made was good right from the start.
All things were good: God’s image-bearing folk
the most of all. But love’s not love without
the choice to stray, and still be loved, but sent,
fig-leafed, outside the gates of paradise.
We tend to want to think the best about
ourselves. We need not think that everyone’s
depraved, to see that we have work to do.
We need not hate ourselves, to admit we choose
again and again to stray, because we’re weak,
we’re proud, self-centered, and adventuresome.
We rather like ourselves like this, you see.
We are not sure we want another way
to go. We see that we are marv’lous-
ly made, but we forget whose hand it was
that made us so. The more they tell us what
to buy, the more forgetful we become.
What home could Jesus find with us today?
What roof could shelter Love and keep him safe?
It is not purity he needs, but grace,
a gift that comes from him, if you accept.
What peaceful land would claim its prince?
What peaceful peoples raise his banner high?
It is not safe for Jesus here with us.
I’ll be your angel; this will be your dream.
The powers of darkness dwell with us. They seek
to quench the light. For in that light there is
forgiveness, truth, and justice for us all.
But power and wealth feel stronger in the dark.
When Herod died, an angel came again
to Joseph in a dream. “It’s safe to go
now,” came the message. But it was not safe.
Another Herod ruled, and carried all
his father’s cruelty, jealousy, and hate;
that twisted way some sons their fathers ape.
You see what treach’ry lies in wait for Christ.
One night, an angel says it’s safe for him;
the next, another angel brings renewed
alarm. And so it goes, from genera-
tion on to generation, just like that.
Another angel comes to Joseph’s dreams:
“Get up, and take the Child; it is not safe!
Another Herod rules somewhere nearby.
His schemes employ new tactics, but his aim
is tried and true: to take what he can get.
And Jesus, buying nothing, selling less,
disrupts the markets. This they will not have!”
The case I’ve made declares that Jesus is
not safe here in this world with us. I’ve called
the darkness out. I’ve named the markets for
the idols that they are. And idols are
at enmity with God because they claim
what rightfully is God’s as theirs, not his.
Another Herod lurks by every door;
and you would think another angel, too.
For you would think the message has not changed:
Get up at once and take the Child and go!
You’d think that Jesus would be on the run.
You’d think he’d gone and found another home.
You’d think that if the Lord of Love was forced
to flee and flee again, he might give up.
You’d think he might just take his Love and go
until he found a place with people who
don’t stray so much, but love him in return,
who find it easy to accept his grace.
But here, the Gospel tells us otherwise.
We’re told the earth’s not safe for Jesus, but,
we’re told, he comes to us. We’re told he will
not stay away. We’re told he will not flee
again, but makes his home with us. We’re told
that Herod’s power does not rule the day.
Another Herod always takes the place
of one who came before. And Jesus is
not safe. But light has shone in darkness and
the darkness overcomes it not. You see,
the Word-made-flesh comes to his own; his own
receive him not, but still he will not flee.
It’s true, the world we live in is not safe
for Jesus, who is peace itself, and who
gives every gift away for free. But he
will not depart; he will not shrink; he will
not go away; he cannot shine less bright;
he loves; forgives; he weeps; he suffers; dies.
And then, with healing in his wings, he rises,
this humble Lord of Love, who points us back
toward the goodness for which we were made.
He helps us learn to love the light. He makes
us shine with his reflected light. He’d make
the darkness disappear if we’d allow.
Perhaps some angel will descend to us
to plant a dream inside our hearts that will
awaken us from sleep, distract us from
our screens, prevent us in our wars, and turn
our hearts toward the One who never could
be safe with us, but came to save us all.
When angels come to bring us dreams, their work
is meant to waken us so then we act
upon those dreams, as Joseph did so long
ago. And now, I hear a fragment of
that dream: “Get up and take the Child; but do
not flee; he’s home, and he will stay with you.”
Oh, take the Child, and hold him in your heart.
Oh, take the Child, and bring him home with you.
Oh, take the Child, and let him teach, and heal,
and live with you; he’ll bring forgiveness, truth,
and justice for us all. Oh, take the Child;
though it’s not safe, he’s here. Oh, take the Child.
Fr. Sean Mullen
2 January 2022
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
