A Refugee Gospel
A reflection on Matthew 2:13–15, 19–23
Before we talk about what this story means, we need to be honest about what it is.
Most scholars agree that the story of Jesus’ family fleeing to Egypt is not preserved in the Gospel of Matthew because it can be verified as a historical event. There are no Roman records of it. No Jewish accounts outside the gospel. No archaeological evidence that confirms it happened this way.
And that is not a problem.
The Gospel writer includes this story because it teaches something, not because it functions like a modern news report. In the ancient world, stories were often told to shape identity, convey truth, and form communities, especially in times of fear and upheaval. This story belongs to that tradition.
So the question is not, “Did this happen exactly like this?”
The question is, “Why tell the story this way?”
And the answer matters.
The Gospel writer of Matthew places this story immediately after Jesus’ birth to make a claim about the kind of world Jesus enters and the kind of God this child reveals. From the very beginning, Jesus’ life is shaped by fear, political violence, displacement, and the struggle for survival under the empire.
This is not sentimental Christmas storytelling.
It is a theological instruction.
Scripture: Matt 2:13-15, 19-23
13 When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod will soon search for the child in order to kill him.” 14 Joseph got up and, during the night, took the child and his mother to Egypt. 15 He stayed there until Herod died. This fulfilled what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: I have called my son out of Egypt.
19 After King Herod died, an angel from the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt. 20 “Get up,” the angel said, “and take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel. Those who were trying to kill the child are dead.” 21 Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22 But when he heard that Archelaus ruled over Judea in place of his father Herod, Joseph was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he went to the area of Galilee. 23 He settled in a city called Nazareth so that what was spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled: He will be called a Nazarene.
Refuge, Empire, and the Truth of Christmas
We sit here the week after Christmas and are given a story about Jesus and his family fleeing political persecution under an unjust puppet king. In our modern world, immigrants, refugees, and puppet kings have all been pretty hot topics this year. This Gospel message has particular applicability right now. We sit in the relevant in-between.
Christ has come.
That is the good news of Christmas.
And still, here we are. The songs linger. The decorations remain. And the world is still complicated and often frightening.
The Gospel writer in Matthew does not let us stay in a softened version of Christmas for long. That cozy manger and nativity view is gone. Almost as soon as Jesus is born, fear enters the story. Power feels threatened. Rulers act violently. Families are forced to flee. Children are not safe.
Jesus’ family leaves their home in the middle of the night because staying would be too dangerous.
This is not because Christmas failed. Incarnation is not irrelevant in the empire; instead, it is because Christmas tells the truth.
The world Jesus enters is a world shaped by human fear and broken systems. (relatable) It is shaped by rulers who prioritize power at any cost and wealth above all else. It is shaped by violence, uncertainty, and loss. And it is into this world that God chooses to come near.
This is what Christians mean by incarnation. God does not arrive as an escape from reality. God arrives inside it. Jesus grows up knowing what it means to flee. He knows what it means to rely on others. He knows what it means to live under an empire, to survive rather than triumph, to grow up far from safety and certainty.
The Gospel writer in Matthew tells this story to teach readers where God can be trusted to be present. Not only in temples or palaces. Not only in moments of victory or stability. God is present on the road. In exile. In hiding. In places where people are simply trying to stay alive.
That is where refuge begins. Refugees need refuge.
Refuge is not pretending the world is safer than it is. Refuge is presence. Refuge is companionship. Refuge is knowing that you are not alone. Refuge carves out small spaces of safety in a dangerous world.
In this scripture, Egypt becomes a small space of refuge, and Nazareth becomes a semblance of the same.
I think it is interesting that in Matthew, it is not only Jesus who is sought out for infanticide by Herod. This oppression happens in a community and to an entire community. An entire community presumably flees.
The importance of community here centers on Jesus, the refugee, among other refugees. To modern contexts, this is significant. This is why communities of faith gather. Not because life is easy. Not because fear has vanished. We gather because fear still exists, and we all exist among fear together.
Communities are meant to provide this small space of safety. A refuge. Because joy and grief live side by side. Because we need places where we can tell the truth and be reminded that God is near.
We find refuge when someone sits with us in our worry. When someone listens without fixing. When someone refuses to let us carry everything alone. We find refuge in shared songs, stories, and meals that have sustained people through perilous times for generations.
But refuge is not the end of the story.
Not in the scripture and not to the faithful who are to be the hands and feet of Christ.
The refuge Jesus receives becomes the refuge he offers. He feeds people who are hungry. He heals those who are sick. He notices those the world overlooks. He creates space where there was none. And then he turns to others and says, Follow me.
In a dangerous world, God does not ask us to fix everything. God asks us to show up. To offer what refuge we can. To protect the vulnerable. To make room where the world has said there is no room.
This is not abstract work. It looks like feeding the hungry. Caring for the sick. Standing with people whose fear is not irrational but born of injustice. Making space for those forced to flee.
When we sing joy in this season, we are not claiming the work is finished. We are not pretending the kin(g)dom has fully arrived. We sing because Christ has come and because the world still needs Christ’s way.
The danger remains. The waiting continues. The work is unfinished.
And into all of it, God keeps sending companions.
God comes near.
God offers refuge.
And God teaches us how to become a refuge for others.
Want to Go Deeper?
This story is not only about fear or comfort. It is also about power. About empire. About displacement. About where authority truly lives and whose lives are protected or expendable.
If you want to explore more about how Jesus’ life and teachings were inherently political, how the gospels resist imperial logic, and how faith can be practiced honestly in a world shaped by power and fear, I write a weekly email that does exactly that.
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Bibliography
Lee, Boyung. “Commentary on Matthew 2:13–15, 19–23.” In What Do You Fear? Sermon Planning Guide, First Sunday after Christmas. San Diego: Sanctified Art, 2024.
