Bible reading: Matthew 2:13-23.

I wonder what picture the phrase “small boats” brings to your minds? Do you think of yachts and cabin cruisers bobbing up and down in a Mediterranean marina (or Penarth)? Do you visualise pedalos and rowing boats splashing across Roath Park lake? Does your mind turn to children launching their vessels across a shallow pond? Or – especially if you’re both British and older – do you think of the motley fleet of fishing boats and pleasure craft which sailed across the Channel in 1940 to pluck soldiers off the deadly beaches of Dunkirk?

Well, all of those are certainly images of “small boats”; but I’m pretty sure that what actually entered all of our minds is one of a dinghy crowded with migrants, all desperate to reach the British shore – although the picture could equally apply to Italy or Greece. The image of a fragile inflatable craft, crammed with people and floating around helplessly in busy sea lanes, pops up on the news bulletins almost on a daily basis; it has become one of the defining images of the last decade. Last year, 36,816 people were detected crossing the English Channel; at least 74 died making the attempt although the actual figure was probably much higher.

However that figure pales into significance when we realise that total net migration into Britain – that’s the difference between the number of folk entering and leaving – is running at over 700,000 per year. It’s no wonder that the so-called “crisis” of immigration has become the hottest of political “potatoes”. We recall Theresa May’s aim of creating a “hostile environment” for migrants and Rishi Sunak’s pledge to “stop the boats” which contributed to his downfall; just two months ago Keir Starmer promised to “turn the page” with a radical new approach. This issue played a major part in the Brexit referendum and is now boosting the rise of “Reform” which is troubling politicians of both the Left and the Right. It led in part to this week’s resignation of Canada’s Prime Minister and will feature strongly in Trump’s US presidency.

You may wonder why I am talking about migration this morning. It’s because the Bible passage we read earlier, the sequel to the Wise Men’s visitation which we tend to skip over, portrays the Holy Family as migrants or, to be more precise refugees. I make the distinction because many migrants aren’t refugees: they may be students, or international workers, or folk seeking better economic prospects, or people coming to join their families; to quote the United Nations High Commission, “refugees are people who have been forced to flee their country because of persecution, war, or violence”. It’s clear that, when they heard of Herod’s edict to murder all the young male children in Bethlehem (a horrific act that was totally in character for him), Mary and Joseph had no choice but to take their son to a place of safety. And it’s interesting to note that the Greek word for “flee” used by the angel is pheuge, from which our English word “refugee” directly derives.

The story of the Flight into Egypt is another of those Bible stories frustrating in its lack of detail. The composer Hector Berlioz wrote an oratorio (which I have sung in and enjoy) called “The Childhood of Christ” which describes Jesus’ family arriving in a place called Thaïs and, after being rejected because they were Jewish, finding a welcome from some Ishmaelites. Well, I don’t know where Berlioz got his story from, but it certainly wasn’t from the Bible! Nor does the Bible tell us that the family lived at Matareya, a few miles northeast of Cairo, nor that dragons bowed to Jesus, that lions and leopards adored him, and that roses blossomed wherever his footsteps trod. Suggestions that, as Jesus arrived in Egypt, all its idols fell from their pedestals and crashed to the ground are equally fanciful. As one commentator puts it, “This wealth of legendary miracles arising … furnishes a strong contrast to the truthful simplicity of the Gospel narrative”.

One aspect of the story which brings us up-to-date is the route that the Family took from Bethlehem to Egypt. There were several paths they could have chosen, but the most direct would have taken them through Gaza to the Rafah Crossing – yes, the same one we’ve heard so much about recently, and usually kept closed by Egypt. That’s a distance of about 64 miles, three or so days by donkey. They would then have been safe from Herod but not from bandits as they travelled another 200 miles across the Sanai desert into Egypt proper. This wasn’t an easy journey, although it’s nothing compared to some of the long, complex and perilous ones being made by refugees today.

That takes me back to today’s world. As at June last year, the United Nations estimated that 122.6 million people around the world have been forced to flee their homes – twice the entire population of Britain and 1 person in every 67. Among those are about 44 million refugees, a number which has doubled in the last ten years; these people have been driven out by warfare, political and religious persecution, floods and drought. Two-thirds of those refugees come from just four countries: Syria, Afghanistan, Ukraine and (you may be as surprised as I was to hear this) Venezuela. The country which hosts the most refugees is (again I was surprised to read this) Iran, followed by Turkey, both with over 3 million. In comparison, the number of refugees taking sanctuary in Britain is small but not insignificant: under 300,000, or around half a per cent of our population.

Before we respond to this situation, we need to realise that refugees are part and parcel of the Bible’s story. Joseph’s brothers and father left their homeland at a time of famine and came to Egypt seeking food; Naomi, Ruth’s mother-in-law, travelled to Moab for the same reason. Also in the Old Testament Moses fled to Midian for safety after killing the Egyptian who he saw brutally treating his Jewish kinsfolk, while in the New Testament we read of the Christians being scattered all around the Mediterranean region as far as Cyprus, Phoenicia and Antioch by the persecution which arose after Stephen’s death. Finally Peter, presumably at a time of later Roman persecution, wrote “to God’s chosen people who live as refugees scattered throughout the provinces of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia” – all in today’s Turkey. So the Bible shows us that what happened to Jesus’ family was far from unique. And, in any case, the book of Hebrews describes all believers in God as “foreigners and refugees on earth”, longing for their heavenly home.

So what should we do in the face of today’s unparalleled situation? I think we’d all say that Christians have a responsibility to “welcome the stranger” and to “protect the vulnerable”; indeed, we recall Jesus’ chilling words about Judgement Day, that those who have not done these things will be condemned. Christians would also agree that all people are created in God’s image, which means that we must do all we can to combat the cruel, inhumane and often inaccurate language which is often used to describe refugees and, indeed, all migrants. It’s interesting to note that, back in 2008, a row developed between the current and former Archbishops of Canterbury over this very point: in response to a claim by Lord Carey that migration ‘threatens the very ethos or DNA of our nation’, Rowan Williams declared that migrants should be regarded as a ‘gift’ who ‘help us see who we are’.

Beyond these basic principles Christians will differ. I hope that all of us will recognise – as does the United Nations organisation – that desperate and hopeless people should be treated with dignity and respect. How each country does this will vary; some have held their doors wide open while others have sought to shut them firmly. That may be for the worst of political reasons, but it may be because they are genuinely struggling to cope with the number of folk arriving. In such cases other countries must come to their aid – but will they? The long-term solution, of course, is for the international community to sow seeds of hope which will end wars, reverse the effects of climate change, create prosperity and enable reconstruction: doing that will mean that folk won’t need to become refugees in the first place or can return home. Will that happen before Christ returns to earth? I doubt it.

In 1943, when the outcome of the Second World War was still far from certain, an ad-hoc committee called “Christian Reconstruction in Europe” was set up by the major British and Irish churches. Its remit was to raise funds for the spiritual well-being, relief and resettlement of some of the millions of people in Europe left homeless and destitute by the War. Six years later this joined with the “Ecumenical Refugee Committee” of the British Council of Churches to establish a new organisation: the “Inter-Church Aid and Refugee Service”. This had a clear aim: to “provide succour to churches, church institutions, and individuals overseas or from overseas, who are in want”. The name of this organisation won’t ring any bells but you do know it as, in 1956 it changed its name to “Christian Aid”. Its work has evolved over the years, but it’s good to remember that it was started to help refugees.

At the end of the day this is a massive issue which evokes lots of emotion and makes huge demands on people, governments and resources. Even Christians – who seek wisdom from God himself – will disagree on what to do. But we must never forget God’s words to Moses: “For the Lord your God … is not partial and … executes justice for the orphan and the widow, providing them with food and clothing. You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt”. And we must remember that Jesus’ own family was forced to flee, surviving only through the kindness of people living in a foreign land. Their hospitality shaped the history of our world.