By Marv Knox

This year, one aspect of the Christmas story hovers over my heart. It’s the part where an angel of the Lord tells Joseph to take Mary and Jesus and immigrate to Egypt, so Jesus would be safe from King Herod, who was hell-bent on killing him. 

Technically, this didn’t happen at the first Christmas. If you pay attention to Matthew 2 and do the math, you’ll realize Jesus was several months old, maybe even a toddler. But if you look at almost any Nativity Scene, you’ll see wise men and most likely agree the Holy Family’s immigration to Egypt is part of the overall Christmas story.

You remember what happened: “Wise men from the east” noticed an unusual astronomical event and interpreted it as a sign “the king of the Jews” had been born in Judea. So, they traveled far from their homeland to Jerusalem and asked the erstwhile king, Herod, about the baby. It was an act dumb enough to make you wonder about the “wise” in wise men. This was a guy who killed one of his wives and three of his sons in paranoid throne-protecting rage. Not likely he would be coddling a baby.

After numerous consultations, the wise men eventually found Jesus and worshiped him. Then, after dreaming about the danger of telling the wicked king where they found the baby king, they took another route home. 

That’s when an angel also warned Joseph to pack up Mary and Jesus and to flee to Egypt. There, they would be protected by another strong ruler, well beyond the reach of Herod’s venomous grasp. 

So, our Lord and Savior once immigrated from his home and sought asylum in a safer country. He and his mama and step-daddy traveled many miles on foot or maybe on the back of a donkey. They crossed dangerous territory. They experienced the pain of exhaustion, no doubt. They knew hunger and thirst, most likely. They left family and everything familiar because they had no choice. For loving parents, the death of a child is not an option. Immigration is the only hope.

While I don’t know exactly what little Jesus looked like, I’ve recognized him in the faces of children I’ve seen this year. Like Jesus, they have experienced extreme danger at a tender age. Like Mary and Joseph, their parents have decided to pack up and to embark upon a long, dangerous, fraught journey in order to protect their children. 

Late this summer, a Central American mom (pictured above)—preschool son and daughter playing at her feet—described why she and her husband brought their children to the United States’ doorstep. When gangs conducted dangerous activity in their neighborhood, she called the police. Almost before she hung up the phone, a gang member knocked on her door. Call the police again, and we’ll kill you and your husband, the told her.

Early this month, another mother (pictured above) explained why she and her husband traveled with their daughters to northern Mexico, seeking asylum in the United States. Gang members extorted their family. The stress caused her father to take his own life, but the gang remained unmoved by either the family’s grief or their financial plight. Pay up, or leave, or we’ll kill you, they threatened.
 

Elsewhere at that same church-turned-shelter, a father stood by his son (above). Between economic chaos and the boy’s misshapen wrists, they felt hopeless back home. Love compelled the father to travel north, to find a job to care for his family, to find a surgeon who would treat his son. 

Every face on the border tells a story. Every child totters on the precipice of calamity. And every life is a soul knit together by God, bearing the stamp of divine creation, the object of holy love.

This Christmas, as we consider the birth of Jesus, let us remember he immigrated from his home, seeking safety. As we identify with the love of Joseph and Mary, may we respect the care of immigrant parents, whose love for their children prompts them to take long, dangerous journeys, seeking safety. 

And may we, like the wise men, worship our Savior by sacrificing our resources for the well-being of refugees—our sisters and brothers likewise created in God’s image.

Marv Knox is coordinator of Fellowship Southwest. You can reach him at mknox@cbf.net.