Message: Making Room / Matthew 2:13-23

For many centuries, most Western churches have celebrated Christmas on December 25. This practice took root in Rome in the fourth century. In many other early churches around the Mediterranean, the birth of Jesus was remembered on January 6. In some Orthodox churches today, this tradition is still observed on that day. We do not know the exact day Jesus was born. The date of Christmas is not based on historical fact. It is an act of faith. Through engagement and relationships with many cultures, Christmas Day took shape as a way of expressing what Christian faith is and how it is lived.

Christmas comes in the darkest season of the year. The nights are long, and the daylight is brief. This season can feel uncertain, fearful, and vulnerable. However, even in the midst of the darkest and coldest times, God comes into the world. God does not wait for life to become stable. God does not wait for the world to be calm or safe. God comes when life feels fragile and full of struggle.

The Christmas stories in the Gospels show this truth well. Of the four Gospels, only Matthew and Luke tell stories about Jesus’ birth. But they describe the event in different ways. Many details in the two stories do not match. Even so, the early Christians did not combine these accounts into a single story. Instead, they chose to preserve both. They did not try to limit the meaning of Jesus’ birth to just one perspective. No single account can fully capture the truth of God. The Bible reflects the voices and experiences of people who encountered God’s presence. It is like blind people feeling an elephant. One person cannot grasp the whole elephant alone. Only when the experiences of many are gathered and interpreted together can we have a better understanding of the whole.

In Luke, the story of Jesus’ birth begins with an imperial decree and a census, which required people to travel to their hometowns to register. In the ancient world, a census was not simply a count of people. It was a tool of control and oppression, tied to taxation and obligation. People felt its weight and pressure. For this reason, the Bible describes one of King David’s greatest sins as ordering a census. It brought disaster and led to the deaths of about 70,000 people. By including this detail, Luke reveals the reality into which Jesus was born. Jesus came into a world shaped by hierarchy, injustice, and inequality.

Matthew approaches the story from a different angle. Its background is filled with fear, rivalry, and danger. King Herod emerges as a central figure. Though he was a puppet of the Roman emperor, he carried the title of king. When he heard about the birth of another king, he felt threatened. In response, he ordered the killing of all children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or younger. Matthew’s story echoes the book of Exodus, where Pharaoh tried to secure his power by killing the male Hebrew infants. Here, the birth of Jesus is not portrayed simply as the joy of a family. It begins in a dark age, a time when the powerful were cruel and the weak suffered.

These two accounts are different, but they point to the same truth. Jesus entered the world at its darkest. It was a time of great difficulty. The powerful mistreated the weak to hold on to their power. They sacrificed the most vulnerable to protect their thrones. They drained the poor for their own greed.

Today’s Scripture reading in Matthew invites us to see the situation more clearly. Soon after his birth, Jesus’ family was forced to flee. They left their home and crossed a border in search of safety. Jesus began his life as a refugee.

The text does not describe the family’s life in Egypt in detail, but first-century readers could imagine its challenges because they knew the story of Abraham. In Genesis, famine drove Abraham to Egypt. It was not a planned journey but a desperate search for survival. As a foreigner, he feared violence and discrimination. In that fear, he compromised his integrity. He claimed that his wife was his sister, and Sarai was taken into Pharaoh’s house. He experienced a moral collapse. The hardships he faced went beyond hunger. They created a spiritual wasteland marked by isolation and humiliation, even forcing him to give up the most important relationships just to survive.

This is not just an ancient story. Throughout history, countless people have had to leave home, not because they wanted to, but because they had no other choice. Many people today feel unsettled as they witness the struggles of displaced families and harsh border practices, even in the United States, a country built by immigrants long ago. Political leaders are eager to portray immigrants as evil. Immigration enforcement has intensified. Raids at workplaces and homes have increased. New restrictions have made seeking asylum more difficult. For many immigrant families, daily life is marked by uncertainty and the constant risk of separation.

In this context, some churches in the States have reimagined the Nativity as a form of public witness. Instead of presenting a peaceful and sentimental scene, they show how the Holy Family was exposed to danger. In Evanston, Illinois, Lake Street Church created a Nativity scene surrounded by figures labeled “ICE,” with Mary wearing a gas mask and the baby restrained. In Charlotte, North Carolina, Missiongathering Church placed masked agents near the family.

Urban Village Church in River Forest removed the figures entirely and placed a sign, “Due to ICE activity in our community, the Holy Family is in hiding.” In Dallas, Texas, Oak Lawn United Methodist Church placed its Nativity inside a cage topped with razor wire. It challenges us to see the Holy Family not as decoration, but as a mirror of our world today. Reflecting on the piece, Rev. Rachel Griffin-Allison, Senior Pastor of the church, said, “The Holy Family were migrants seeking safety. In Dallas, many families face the same uncertainty. May this scene call us to make room—in our hearts, in our city, in our policies—for the Christ who comes as an unhoused immigrant child.”

All these displays are not just showing a harsh reality. They reveal that God is with those who suffer. In the Bible, God did not forget the people who wandered under oppression. God freed the slaves in Egypt and led them to the Promised Land, a place where everyone could live together, regardless of their social status. God gave them the Law, which guided the people to treat foreigners as their own brothers and sisters.

This is the heart of the Christian faith. God does not remain distant from suffering. God does not watch the world from far away. No suffering is beyond God’s sight. The sun still shines even when clouds cover it. God has not forgotten those who are struggling. God enters the world. God takes on human life, with all its risks, struggles, and vulnerability.

Jesus came into a world full of suffering, and yet he became the Christ, our Saviour. Jesus did not give up. He lived as God’s beloved Son. He was born in a manger and died on a cross. To many, it may have seemed that he had failed. But he did not fail. In the end, he was raised, showing us this truth: God is with us. God is Emmanuel.

One of the important threads in Matthew’s story of Jesus’ birth is Joseph’s dream. His dream serves as a bridge connecting heaven and earth. Even when God seemed far away, God was with that family and protected them. In the same way, Jesus came as a bridge between heaven and earth. And now, he invites us to become bridges too, here and now.

During the Christmas season, many people think about the gifts they will receive. But the true gift of Christmas is Jesus Christ. When the light of Christ comes into our hearts, we are made new. We become bridges of Jesus to those who carry heavy burdens: those walking the streets with tired bodies, those enduring long, cold nights, those trapped in despair, those living without hope, those trembling in fear. And through us, through our care and presence, Christ dwells among them.

May we make room in our hearts and in our communities to welcome Christ, who walks with those who suffer, gives hope, and invites us to become bridges of God’s love in the world.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Min Hwang