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Matthew 2:13-15,19-23
When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.” So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee, and he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.

Continue scrolling to read reflection.

By: The Rev. Dr. W. Ross Blackburn

Sometimes the lectionary makes decisions based on an assessment of the importance of a passage, such as when it leaves out a long genealogy of difficult-to-pronounce names. Or it will omit a section because it doesn’t seem to be particularly relevant to the modern church, or is difficult to understand. Whether or not it that is legitimate is an open question, but it is at least understandable. And sometimes, it would appear, the lectionary makes decisions based on what our itching ears want to hear, or, in this case, would rather not hear. Best not to mess up the wonderful story of the coming of Christ in a manger with an account of slaughtered babies. That is in effect what the lectionary does by assigning Matthew 2:13-15,19-23, leaving out 2:16-18, the passage quoted above.

Yet it is a passage of great modern relevance. Israel suffered at the hands of an Egyptian regime that killed their infants. Jesus was born under a regime that was killing infants. And, likewise, we live in under a regime that kills our infants. Roughly 1.2 million babies per year.

The lectionary’s impulse is understandable, and reflected in the practice of many of our churches. Don’t speak about abortion in the pulpit—it’s too controversial, too political, and you run the risk of losing people. Just section it off, leave it to the side, and focus on the Gospel. But the impulse is wrong. When we refuse to speak about abortion, we, in fact, distort the Gospel. For the Gospel doesn’t save theoretical sinners, but real sinners, with real sin. Specific sin. And for people to receive the Gospel as good news for them, they must know that Jesus covers their particular sin, whatever that is. And for many of us, that sin includes abortion. In fact, as counterintuitive as it may seem on the surface, we will lose people if we refuse to speak about it, for those who are weary and heavy laden with this particular sin will find no good news in our silence and will leave. Quietly.

Jesus Christ came into an ugly world, a world that since the sin in the garden has been characterized by death. And the Gospel makes no sense in any other context. The Gospel is about life—life in the midst of death, even life from the dead. To airbrush the Word is to mute the severe lines of sin only in the end blunts the wonder of a child who came into the world to be our Immanuel, who would save His people from their sins.

This Sunday, read the whole Gospel text—and let the Gospel be the Gospel.