Fwd: Incarnation, fragility and Struggle: A Contemplative Reflection for the Lectionary Gospel text Mt 2:13-23 for the …FCC
Gabby Dean
Begin forwarded message:
From: Ian J Mobsby from Contemplative Christian in a PostSecular Culture of Collapse <postsecularc...@substack.com>
Date: 26 December 2025 at 1:30:44 pm AWST
To: gabby...@westnet.com.au
Subject: reflection on the relevance of the flight into Egypt - Gospel text Mt 2:13-23
After the awe of the incarnation of God, we immediately experience the brokenness of the world crowd in through the domination system reflecting how the world is enslaved to egoic violence and control. Immediately in verses 13-15 Jesus and family become refugees fleeing to Egypt via the Gaza Strip from the Palestinian West Bank, and then we hear of the murder and massacre of the children by troops loyal to the puppet King of Israel. I could not imagine any year when this is so visceral given the murder of thousands in Gaza and the West Bank. Violence continues now as it was in the time of Jesus
The story of the flight into Egypt confronts us with a worldview shaped by fear, abuse of power, displacement, and loss. And yet, it is precisely here, in this fragile and precarious moment, that we are invited to discover something vital about the contemplative heart of the spiritual life.
The incarnation does not begin in calm circumstances. God does not wait for stability, safety, or political order before coming close. Instead, God enters a world where rulers are threatened by vulnerability, where violence is used to protect power, and where ordinary families are forced to flee in the night to survive. This matters deeply for any spirituality that seeks honesty rather than escape.
Joseph is warned in a dream. There is no long explanation, no theological understanding, only a quiet attentiveness to God’s presence and guidance. He wakes, gathers Mary and the child, and leaves. The contemplative centre of this story begins here: in listening. Joseph does not control events; he responds. His obedience is not dramatic but faithful. It is the obedience of someone who has learned how to pay attention in the dark.
In times of chaos, contemplation is not withdrawal from reality. It is the capacity to remain inwardly grounded when everything around us is unstable. Joseph’s attentiveness reveals a spirituality formed not by certainty but by trust. He does not know how long they will be in Egypt, what lies ahead, or when it will be safe to return. He simply takes the next faithful step. Contemplation often looks like this - learning to live without answers while remaining anchored in God.
Egypt itself carries deep symbolic weight. It is a place of refuge and a place of memory, a land once associated with oppression now becoming a shelter for God’s own Word. Matthew reminds us that salvation history is not linear. God works through ambiguity, paradox, and reversal. The contemplative life teaches us to hold these tensions without rushing to resolve them. It forms in us a heart spacious enough to live with complexity rather than deny it.
Herod’s response to threat is violence. Fear drives him to destruction. This is what happens when power has no contemplative centre - when there is no inner stillness, no self-awareness, no openness to God. Chaos on the outside is mirrored by chaos within. Matthew does not dwell on the details, but he names the grief. Rachel weeps. The Bible does not turn away from sorrow. A contemplative spirituality does not bypass lament; it allows grief to be seen, named, and held before God.
Families still flee. Innocent lives are still lost. Power still reacts with fear. The temptation for people of faith is either despair or denial. Contemplation offers a different way. It invites us to remain awake, tender, and rooted even when the world feels unbearable.
Mary and Joseph do not fight Herod. They do not overthrow the system. They protect life quietly, faithfully, and persistently. Sometimes the most profound resistance to chaos is not dramatic action but steadfast love. The contemplative centre of the spiritual life is where fear no longer dictates our responses. It is where we learn to act from love rather than panic, from trust rather than control.
When the time comes to return, Joseph is again guided by a dream. Even then, danger remains. The family settles in Nazareth, a place of obscurity. There is no triumphant return, no public vindication. God’s work continues hidden, slow, and unnoticed. Contemplation trains us to value this hiddenness - to trust that faithfulness matters even when it is unseen.
At its heart, this passage reveals that God’s presence is not found in the absence of chaos but in accompaniment through it. Jesus’ earliest journey is one of displacement and vulnerability. God knows exile from the inside. This is not a distant or detached God, but one who shares the fragility of human life.
To find a contemplative centre today is to learn how to dwell with God amid uncertainty. It is to cultivate stillness not as escape but as resistance to being consumed by fear. It is to allow prayer to form us into people who can carry hope without denying pain, who can remain compassionate without becoming overwhelmed.
Matthew 2:13–23 teaches us that the contemplative life begins not with control, clarity, or safety, but with trustful listening and faith. It invites us to become people who can carry God quietly through dangerous situations, protecting love where we can, grieving honestly where we must, and trusting that God is still at work - even when the world feels broken beyond repair.
In a world of chaos, contemplation does not promise escape. It offers presence. And that presence - rooted in God, attentive, faithful, and loving - is where true spiritual resilience is born.
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