Called by God, Even on an Unknown Road

(Matthew 2:13–23)

Fr Andria Saria

Sermon

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God.

Amen. Glory to Jesus Christ.

Beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today’s Gospel speaks to many themes. On the one hand, it teaches us about

encountering and conversing with God through dreams. Orthodox tradition

approaches this cautiously, for there are three types of dreams, and it is not always

clear which comes from God, which arises from our own impressions, and which

may be influenced by evil. Thus, dreams are not emphasized today. However, we

see in both the Old and New Testaments that dreams were considered genuine

forms of dialogue with God.

Dreams carried particular significance when an angel appeared. In the case of

Zechariah, for example, the angel’s presence was frightening, signaling either the

approach of death or a direct command from God to “rise and go.” Today, I will

focus on one instance: the angel appearing to Joseph.

In Matthew, we read:

“An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there till I tell you.”

Later, the angel appears again:

“But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph

in Egypt, saying, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel,

for those who sought the child's life are dead.' And he rose and took the child and

his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was

ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there, and being

warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee.”

Notice that fear is mentioned—Joseph was afraid. Even so, he obeyed. Fear in

itself is not sinful; it is prudence, humility, and a means of avoiding danger. It does

not signify selfishness—it signifies care for the child’s future and well-being.

In life, we often face similar fears. We do not always know where God is leading

or what risks lie ahead. As a monk, my life is shaped by obedience to my bishop: I

go where I am sent, fulfilling his blessing. When asked whether I would go for five

months, I did not inquire about the place or the people. I simply said, “You have

decided, and I will go,” trusting that God knows best where I am needed. I also

knew that God’s love transforms every circumstance. When an angel appeared, he

often said: “Do not be afraid.” I say the same to you: do not be afraid—let us be

together so that fear does not overcome us.

However, imagine—if an angel appeared in our home, we would hardly respond

with, “How are you?” Most likely, we would be shocked, even scared. And that is

natural. Fear in the face of the new is normal—but we should not let it hold us

back.

The plan was for me to arrive after the New Year, but I chose to come earlier to

meet Father Terry and better understand how to proceed. There is always a sorrow when a familiar spiritual guide departs, and someone new arrives. I remember when I first began my Christian journey—I changed spiritual mentors many times. One priest told me, “God shapes your soul, not the priest.”

Nevertheless, finding the right guide is challenging; it took me ten—or more—

people before I found one suited to my soul. There is a distinction between a priest

who celebrates the liturgy and a spiritual guide who shepherds your soul.

During these five months, my role is to serve as your liturgical priest. But you are

never limited in choosing your spiritual guide—even if that person is far away,

your soul will recognize whom to confess to, and you may travel for this guidance.

Recently, I read about the “Good Samaritan Law” in eight U.S. states. It requires

that if someone is in need or danger, you must assist them—or at least call 911—or

risk legal consequences. This law reminds us of our spiritual responsibility: often

we prioritize protecting our own souls or our family’s, yet Jesus calls us to extend

love beyond ourselves: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Why love others? Why not only those close to us—or even only God? Jesus gave

us the ultimate example: He gave everything for everyone, not for Himself.

Christian love is not optional—it is essential. Whatever we do for another, we do

for Christ. Every person bears the image of God. If we do not pray for them or care

for them, it is difficult to see Christ in them. God does not place people in our path

randomly. We cannot always know how our prayers affect others; that said, prayer

itself forms connection. Even if we cannot reach every family physically, our souls

can reach them spiritually.

Unity is the Church’s highest mission. We are not required to know everyone

personally, but we are called to know God together, to participate in Him, and to

grow in understanding. The difference between knowing God intellectually and

knowing Him in the heart is profound. We can know Him so deeply that His name

is engraved in our soul, and our lives become expressions of perfect love. A single

silent prayer, word, or act can transform another’s life. I firmly believe that joy is

born this way.

During Christmas and New Year, I came as a stranger—yet not entirely, because

we are united in Christ. Through Him, we share and participate in each other’s

lives. Though I am on unfamiliar land, I am among kindred(ქინდრიდ) spirits.

We share the same Father, who nourishes us, and through Him, Jesus Christ, and

the Holy Spirit, we can love and bring joy to others. And this is how the New Year

begins—this is how our blessings begin.

Today’s Gospel is not a peaceful Christmas scene. There are no shepherds here. No

angels singing. No wise men bringing gifts. Today’s Gospel is about movement,

care, fear, and obedience.

An angel appears to Joseph and says:

“Rise. Take the child and His mother. Flee.”

Joseph asks no questions about that dream. He does not ask how long, what Egypt

will be like, or what will happen next. Scripture says simply:

“And he rose.”

This is crucial. Joseph rises in the night. He becomes a refugee. The Holy Family

becomes strangers in a foreign land. And yet—this is the mystery—they are

exactly where God wants them to be.

St. John Chrysostom teaches that obedience is often quiet and hidden, however,

stronger than fear. Joseph was afraid, Scripture tells us. As maintained above, Fear

is not sin. Fear is responsibility. Fear becomes wisdom when it listens to God.

Many of us live in moments like this Gospel. We are between places, between

decisions, between what was and what will be. This parish is in such a moment. A

priest has left. Another has arrived—for a time. And I am also in such a moment.

There is sadness when a priest departs, uncertainty when a new one arrives.

Let me say this gently: a priest is important—but God forms the soul. St. Gregory

the Theologian reminds us that shepherds come and go, but Christ remains the true

Shepherd. Never forget: Christ is already here. He was here before me and will

remain after me. This is not a weak moment for the Church—it is a moment of

trust.

I came from Atlanta to Bowling Green for five months. Like Joseph, I did not

know everything in advance. I did not know all the people. I did not know the

future. But I trusted that God knows. God does not reveal the whole plan—He

reveals the next faithful step. Joseph was not told, “Everything will be easy.” He

was told: “Rise. Go. I will tell you later.” And God does tell him later. He speaks

again. He guides again.

This teaches us an essential truth: God does not promise security, but His presence.

Egypt was not home. Nazareth was not famous. All the same, both became places

of salvation. Home is not first a place—it is where God is obeyed, and love is

practiced. All land belongs to God. All roads belong to God. And yet God places us

in certain spaces—like this church—where strangers become neighbors.

The Gospel frequently speaks of strangers—people on the road like Abraham,

people passing through, people uncertain of tomorrow. Joseph and Mary were

strangers many times. Christ Himself became a stranger—born away from home,

fleeing to Egypt, with no place to lay His head. Yet to God, no one is a stranger. St.

John Chrysostom reminds us:

“The whole earth is the Lord’s table.”

God meets us where we are, not where we think we should be. Christ exists as

community—not as an idea, but as people standing next to one another. St. Sergius

of Radonezh teaches that unity is born not from strength, but from humility and

trust.

I want to thank you. Thanks to your efforts, everything was arranged, and I am

deeply grateful. You prepared. You prayed. You welcomed. You did not close your

hearts during a time of change. St. John of Kronstadt says:

“The Church is alive where people carry one another’s burdens.”

I am here as your priest for these months—to serve, to pray, to love, and to

celebrate the Holy Mysteries. I promise you my faithfulness. But let us remember

together: Christ leads the Church. Like Joseph, we walk step by step. Like the Holy

Family, we trust even when the road is unclear. The Christian life is not about

comfort, but about faithfulness in the present moment.

Today, between Christmas and the New Year, we stand with Joseph—not knowing

everything, but knowing enough. Knowing that Christ is with us. Knowing that

obedience opens the way. Knowing that even exile can become a blessing. Let us

begin the New Year not with fear, but with trust. True peace does not come from

certainty about the future, but from repentance, prayer, and love in the present

moment. St. John of Kronstadt reminds us:

“Where there is love, there God is already present.”

We do not ask, “What will happen?” We pray, “Lord, show us the next step.”

Whether you have been here for years or only recently, you are not strangers to me.

Let us begin the New Year like this: not afraid of being strangers, not afraid of

change, not afraid of temporary things. I came here as a stranger in one sense, but

in Christ, I came home. As we say in Georgian:

“უცხო არ ხარ, როცა ღმერთი გვაერთიანებს.”

“You are not a stranger when God unites us.”

May the God who protected the Child guide this parish, guide each family, and

guide us together.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May God bless this parish today and

always. Amen.