We often read the Christmas story and breeze past the holy family’s exile as refugees to Egypt. Today, a flight from Tel Aviv to Cairo is about an hour-and-a-half long. If we look at map, we think, “Meh—240 miles.”
But Mary and Joseph were traveling on foot. Joseph was 40ish, Mary was a teen, and Jesus was at most 2, so their walking capabilities varied greatly. Imagine the family with their toddler in the dark, dodging thieves, soldiers, lions, and feral dogs while carrying liquids in wineskins, solids in sackcloth, and whatever utensils they needed.
2 things happened once the family crossed into Egypt. First, Herod’s power did not extend to Egypt, so Jesus was out of his reach. Second, the family became stateless. Egypt, like Palestine, was under Roman occupation. They were neither Roman nor Egyptian. They had no claim to a nationality, no army standing behind their rights, and no relatives to offer them protection.
Lineage was of the utmost importance in a time when birth determined one’s lifelong social status and tribalism was the main social structure. Every aspect of Mary and Joseph’s life got harder once they left Palestine.
Joseph and Mary knew they had to flee as refugees to Egypt, but they didn’t know how long they would be there. At the heart of the refugee experience is wondering how long deliverance will take. For refugees, the longing goes beyond a sense of home. It’s about deliverance from oppression, about God’s justice and mercy.
The best way to describe displacement from home is to compare it to hunger pangs. If you’ve ever skipped a few meals or fasted, you get part of what I mean. Once hunger really sets in, you can’t take your mind off of the fact that you should be eating. For refugees, the hunger and thirst for justice comes from a deeper place than piety—it comes from pain and suffering.
The full article is available here
