In this second half of the Season of Pentecost I’ve started exploring the imagined stories of some people impacted by being categorized as “them”, “other”, “less than”, “ignorant”, “savage”… the list could go on and on. We humans have the capacity to find ways to name, or “un-name” as Madeline L’Engle says, so that we can subjugate or kill those made in the image of God. Ignore the Imago Dei and you can hurt and destroy at will.
Sadly, this isn’t a new phenomenon. Every conqueror or powerful
group has in some way or another de-humanized those who have been conquered,
and/or who might be a threat to their power and control. Often it is so that
those in power can have the riches, the human honor and glory—what Jesus calls “the
best seats at the banquet. (Luke 14:7) But then Jesus turns that on it’s
head by saying “the last will be first, and the first last (Matthew
20:16) and the meek shall inherit the earth (Matthew 5:5). Centuries
before, Isaiah prophesied that They will neither harm nor destroy on all my
holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORD as
the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:9) All this is not of much comfort to
those who are disenfranchised, displaced, killed, terrorized, de-humanized,
etc. throughout history.
As much as we might like to think this doesn’t happen any
longer, it does. We only have to look at the news feed or nightly news to hear
of people whose lives are devastated because they have been deemed less than
human or unnecessary or a danger. This can be subtle like poor medical care and
infrastructure like in Haiti or overt like the overthrow of Afghanistan. It can
be caused by war and corrupt governments like in the Middle East and Central
America which causes families to choose to flee and hope for a better life elsewhere
bringing them to our southern border. Displacement can happen when fires and
floods erase the life we thought was secure as has happened in Tennessee and
California and Greece.
Today, I’m looking back at a story familiar to most of us,
and too real to many in the world even today. A family forced to leave home to
escape a despot. I invite you to enter the lives of this young family as their
plans are overturned after the arrival of three guests. (Excerpted from Mary,
My Love by Cynthia Davis)
…At last he nodded decisively. “We may have brought
danger with us.” The young man lowered his head almost in shame. Guiltily he
glanced toward his comrades….
Slowly he confessed, “Despite their wise counsel to wait
for the clouds to clear and follow the star, I insisted on proceeding to the
capital. …Herod turned to us then, ‘Behold your answer, Magi. Seek for this
child and bring me word that I may worship him.’ He does not plan homage but
harm.”
Some inarticulate sound came from my throat.
“We will not return to Herod,” the young Magi assured
me, “but that may not do anything more than delay the king slightly.”
“Yes.” The strangled word barely sounded like my
voice. “Thank you.”
“May the One God who is Light protect you and your
family.”
Caspar bowed low to me. The last I saw of the Magi was
three shadows moving up the street behind
All of Caspar’s warnings rang over and over as I
watched the star disappear. When the night sky was normal again, I turned to
the house. Mary slept soundly, secure in her innocence. I lay stiffly beside my
wife. Caspar’s words still replayed in my soul. Finally, I must have slept.
Into my fitful dream came the figure of light I had seen two years earlier on a
hill outside
“Joseph, son of David, get up now! Take the child and
his mother. Go to
Then the presence was gone. I sat up straight on the
mat. Gently but urgently, I awakened Mary with a touch and kiss of apology.
“Mary, we must leave.”
Drowsily she stirred and opened dark eyes. “Leave?
What do you mean? Are we going home to
The slight eagerness in her last question struck me
with the realization that my beloved was homesick.
Sadly I shook my head. “No, I am sorry. It would not
be safe.”
I was already gathering clothing and blankets. Sensing
my urgency, Mary scrambled to her feet. She removed a bundled blanket from my
inept hands and folding it neatly.
“Get Balaam ready and your tools.”
I slid my carpenter’s tools into the carrying bag
quickly. Balaam complained by tossing his head and grunting when I led the
donkey from his pen. The animal snorted in disgust when I cinched a saddle on
his back. Mary had a bag of food and a second bag with clothing and blankets
already packed. Hurriedly I strapped them onto the back of the saddle.
I heard a muffled sniff from my wife when she turned
back to the house. In two strides I was beside the woman.
“I am sorry.” My arm slipped around her waist.
Desperately I tried to soothe her sorrow. “We dare not stay. An angel came…”
Her finger on my lips interrupted my babbling. A
quavering sigh completed her thought, “I understand. It’s just…”
In the fading moonlight I saw tears on her lashes. My
eyes grew damp at the young woman’s distress.
“We will return, someday,” I promised.
Gently Mary stroked my cheek. “As God wills. I will
get Jeshua.”
The slender figure slipped out of my embrace,
returning a moment later with the baby in her arms. Together we stood in the
doorway staring into the home we had made together. I wanted to linger, to
pretend that we were a normal couple. It was Mary who tugged my arm and urged
me from the house.
Balaam waited, head drooping to the ground as he
dozed, unaffected by the human emotions tormenting me. Gently I settled my wife
and child on the animal’s back. Then we slipped out the gate and through the
quiet streets. Not even a dog barked at our passing. The eerie silence made me
hurry faster. At the edge of the city, I looked back. To the north and east I
caught a brief glimpse of a camel silhouetted against the stars. The Magi, too,
were on the move.
“God be with them, and protect us.”
By the time the sun rose to awaken
We took turns carrying Jeshua or letting him balance
on Balaam’s back.
“Where are we going?” Mary asked finally.
“Mary, I am sorry. We must leave
“Oh, so far?” Her face mirrored my emotions of fear
and sorrow.
I sought to console my wife. “The angel that came to
me in my dream ordered us to go to
“God will not fail us.” The woman nodded slowly,
almost as if convincing herself.
…
By the end of the day we had passed
“Pray that the desert welcome extends to fugitive Jews,” I muttered to myself.
