Jesus did not enter the world in the luxury of a palace; instead, he was born into a displaced family. Shortly after his birth, Jesus became a refugee when his parents, Mary and Joseph, were forced to flee their home in Bethlehem and seek safety in Egypt.
During the reign of King Herod, many Jewish families fled to Egypt for a haven. It was close to Judea, yet it was located safely outside Herod’s jurisdiction while remaining under Roman control.
The historical context of their flight is in the writings of Flavius Josephus; he was a famous historian of that time. Josephus describes Herod as one of the most corrupt and brutal kings in Jewish history. He even murdered his own wife and three of his sons to secure his kingship for more years.
Today’s reading says he ordered the massacre of all baby boys in Bethlehem. It is entirely consistent with his psychopathic character. A man willing to kill his own flesh and blood would certainly not hesitate to kill the children of strangers to eliminate a future threat like the “newborn king”.
Life under Herod was unthinkably tough one for man local families. Between his heavy taxes, the presence of his secret police everywhere, and constant political and religious persecutions, many Jewish people chose to flee. These families could easily disappear and find safe havens within some established Jewish towns in Egyptian cities.
After King Herod died, an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream with an instruction: “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go back to the land of Israel.” Following this divine guidance, Joseph led his family back to their homeland, eventually settling in a small, humble town called Nazareth.
Many Jewish families also decided to return to Israel after Herod died. However, there is a profound difference between why the crowds returned and why Joseph and Mary returned.
Most refugees returned because it seemed safe. They saw that the tyrant was gone, and concluded that the threat had vanished. Their return was a reaction to the changing environment. It is ‘the logic of the world’. It is called in other words ‘the wisdom of the world’.
However, Joseph and Mary did not return simply because they felt “safe” back home. They returned because they were obedient. Their move wasn’t based on a political calculation or a feeling of security, but on the specific word of God. For them, the return was about fulfilling their journey in faith. They prioritised following God’s direction over even their own sense of safety. I might call it ‘the logic of faith’ or ‘the wisdom of the cross’.
The logic of this world and the logic of faith often contradict each other, which can be confusing for us. Naturally, we want to wait until the way is clear or the danger has passed before we make a move. However, living by faith often means having the courage to move forward simply because we have heard a calling, regardless of how the world looks around us.
Today’s story of Joseph and his family’s fleeing to Egypt is a story that repeats throughout history. Herod’s order to kill the children of Bethlehem was more than just a passage in the Bible—it created a real graveyard of innocent lives and broken families.
We saw this same heartbreak in 2015, when the image of Alan Kurdi, a three-year-old Syrian boy washed up on a Turkish beach, shocked the world. In that moment, the world’s conscience woke up, and we cried out, “No more. Never again.
We’re still in Christmas season and I’d like to ask a question, “Why does God include the tragic story of Joseph and his family’s flight in the Christmas story?
Why? Friends, the Gospel isn’t a fairy tale. The Gospel is God entering a world where babies drown and families flee in the night, and people kill their fellow people almost for nothing. Many of us are still in shock by the sad news of Bondi beach shootings a couple weeks ago.
Gungahlin Uniting Church sits at the heart of a very multicultural community. As a church, we are also part of a world where the cycle of fleeing continues. Even today, countless children, women, and families are still running for their lives—fleeing from modern-day versions of King Herod and seeking safety in a world that remains full of danger.
If we use our Christian faith only for ourselves or to seek a better future for our own families, we are focusing only on a single tree. But when we respond through prayer and action to the tragedies of others—even strangers who have nothing to do with us—we begin to see the whole forest. By looking beyond ourselves and caring for the wider world, we draw closer to the Kingdom of God.
This year has been an incredible journey as we’ve served God by caring for one another. Even through the hard times, we stayed strong and kept moving forward as a community of faith. We haven’t just grown in numbers; we’ve grown deeper in our faith and character, too. Looking ahead, our church council is now searching for a young pastor to join us and serve alongside our church family.
And on this final Sunday of the year, I’d like to say thank-you to those who have helped the church and worship to be the beautiful community of diversity, vibrant and welcoming.
Whether you served in a leadership role, a committee, volunteers, or shared a quiet word of encouragement with each other, your work and commitment have been a worship in action to God.
I want to ask you a difficult question: “How many of you have not spoken to our new members or newcomers in several months, or even a year?” I know this is a piercing question. But if we don’t speak to each other from the heart, we are not a family in faith; we are simply people sharing a building.
I am deeply aware that within our own congregation, many of our new migrant families are working two or three jobs just to survive. I know of families who move house simply to save fifty dollars in rent. We have a young father who works all week and straight through the weekend—not to get ahead, but simply to keep the lights on.
In the Uniting Church, we often use the word “multicultural.” It is a beautiful word, but it must mean more than just sharing exotic foods at a potluck or hearing different languages on a Sunday morning.
A truly multicultural church is a cross-cultural church. This requires a deliberate choice to cross over to the other side—to ensure that the pain of the newcomer becomes the pain of the local. It means we don’t just “welcome” our brothers and sisters; we “carry” them.
We must invite them into the very heart of our community. And if that heart becomes too crowded, we must be willing to step aside to make room for them.
As we say goodbye to this year and look toward the next, let us embrace a spirit of true service. Remember: we aren’t just people sharing a roof; we are a family sharing a mission.
I’ll leave you with these words from Philippians chapter 2: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus.”
