The Peace We Long For: Advent in Disorienting Times | Day 25

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.

Luke 2: (1)

My first job offer to be a college instructor came from Ontario, Canada. I took it. I didn’t know anyone in Canada.

On July 3^rd, 2006, I drove alone through Michigan, my 1995 Honda Accord stuffed with clothing and books. Packing up every shred of more than a decade in Chicago had been emotionally and logistically taxing, and I had gotten a late start that day. After nine hours of driving, I walked into the Canadian Customs building at Sarnia, Ontario, around midnight, exhausted. My hands shaking, I offered my passport, letter of employment, and auto registration, fully expecting to be turned back for some technicality or missing document. Instead, the agent handed back my documents along with a work permit. Welcome to a new country, new role, new life. 

Perhaps you, too, have made an uncertain move, whether by choice, necessity or following a dream. How did it feel?

Two thousand years ago, by order of decree and despite being nearly ready to give birth, Mary traveled with Joseph, her betrothed husband, to his ancestral home town. I cannot imagine the fear, anxiety, and physical discomforts of this journey. Before this, Joseph and Mary were housed people, part of a community, although perhaps of questionable status given Mary’s early pregnancy. Swiftly, their dutiful journey became a flight. It is never mentioned whether they registered, but we know that they were forced to flee to Egypt to avoid the killing of their firstborn son, Jesus, who was born upon their arrival in Bethlehem. 

They became a homeless, refugee family.

At Christmas, this time of long, cold nights and short bright days, we lean into the comforts of the season, exchanging gifts, hopes, and reassurances of goodwill and connection.  We offer blessings of peace on our families and one another, knowing that many among us may be far from home or seeking a home. 

Despite the uncertainties of this historical moment, may we remember that our God is not a god of decrees, documents, or the paranoid violence of Herod. Instead, God comes to us as a child of refugees: Alone, uncertain, in flight. Emmanuel: God with us, knowing the vulnerability of life under oppressive rule, and yet the bearer of comfort and hope for all.  

Prayer:  May we find peace in this season of wonder, uncertainty and joy, and may we be that peace for one another. Amen.