The Shadow of the Manger

We are still in the season of light, and the echoes of Silent Night are still humming in our ears. We love the Christmas story. We love the cozy stable, the soft hay, the gentle animals, and the adoring shepherds. We want the story to stay there warm, safe, and miraculous.

But the Gospel of Matthew refuses to let us stay in the warm glow of the candlelight. Matthew pulls back the curtain and reminds us that the light of Christ was born into a world of deep shadows.

Today, we face a text that is difficult. There is no way to sanitize this story. There is no way to wipe the blood away. We read today that innocents were killed. It was a wholesale slaughter, and as much as we might wish otherwise, it is part of the Christmas story.

The text tells us that after the Wise Ones departed, a tyrant sent his army into the streets to slaughter all the male children aged two and under.

Why? Because a rich and powerful man feared he would lose his kingdom. Herod worried he would lose his power to a child. Many died because Jesus was born. Mary and Joseph grabbed their newborn baby and ran for their lives to the safety of another country.

I can’t even imagine the terror of that night. And yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we don’t have to imagine it. We just have to look around.

This is a story that plays out repeatedly throughout history. It is being told right now.

In war-torn places on this planet—mothers, fathers, and children are fleeing for their lives. It is still happening in Syria, the Ukraine, Afghanistan, the Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo and the list goes on.

When we read Matthew 2, we are not reading a dusty history lesson. We are reading the news. We are seeing the face of the Holy Family in the faces of every refugee family seeking asylum today.

This brings us to a difficult question. Eugene Park refers to this as a theodicy question, the question of why God permits evil.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, we expect God to not to let evildoers prosper. We expect God to protect the innocent. When that expectation isn’t met when Herod’s soldiers march and children die we ask: Is God just? Why is only the Holy Family saved? What about everyone else?

Matthew narrates these events in a matter-of-fact manner. He doesn’t offer a philosophical explanation. He simply shows us the reality of empire and imperial power.

As Eric Barretto points out, Matthew is drawing a striking parallel here. Herod is a new Pharaoh. Just as Pharaoh tried to kill the Hebrew boys in Exodus to protect his power, Herod lashes out in vain. Both Pharaoh and Herod cause devastating loss of life, yet both fail to prevent the birth of a liberator.

If we view this through the lens of Moses, we see that Jesus is the new Lawgiver, the new Liberator, born under the threat of death to set the people free.

Matthew quotes the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children…”

This is such a powerful image. Rachel, the mother of Israel, is weeping. Ramah was the gathering place for the people of Judah before they were sent into exile in Babylon. So, Rachel here represents the collective mother of the people, weeping for all her children lost to the cruelty of empires whether it be Babylon, or Rome, or the modern empires of our day.

Two powerful colonizing powers destroying lives. And in the middle of it, a mother weeps.

So, where is God in this?

I believe one of the core truths about Jesus is that he came to end cycles of violence like this. Theologian Mark Heim writes that Jesus represents an end to the old practice of offering a sacrifice. Jesus is the ultimate sacrifice.

God, in the form of a good, innocent man, allowed Godself to be sacrificed to demonstrate, through the resurrection, that violence is not the answer. The cycle of an eye for an eye stops with God absorbing the blow.

And yet, 2,000 years later, we see ourselves repeating these cycles. We see Herod’s rising up in every generation.

But there is a conclusion to Herod’s actions. It’s found later in Matthew’s Gospel, in the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats. Jesus tells us that how we treat the least of these is how we treat him. We trust that those children who were killed are held in the arms of the Divine, and that the Herod’s of this world those who choose power over love will have to answer to the Prince of Peace.

In the face of such heavy news, we look for hope. Chelsey Harmon writes a beautiful reflection on this. She says:

“In the face of ever-present evil, we need an ever-present Messiah who cares even more about making his love known than evil cares about fear. So this Christmas, feeling quite sure of my ability to speak of the evil I see being perpetrated in the world around me, I’m wondering how many times God has sent a messenger into people’s dreams and told them what to do to escape danger. I’m wondering how many times God has sent a messenger into people’s dreams and told them what to do to help others escape the snares of evil.”

This is our invitation today.

The scheming of evil cannot outdo the work of God. Even when it feels like all is hopeless, God is at work. Look at the irony in the text: Egypt, historically the place of oppression and slavery for the people of Israel, becomes the place of sanctuary and safety for the Holy Family.

God can turn even the darkest places into havens of light.

Friends, we cannot sanitize the story, but we can participate in the redemption of it.

We are called to be the messengers. We are called to be the ones who help others escape the snares of evil. Whether through sponsorship, through advocacy, or through simple acts of radical neighborly love, we participate in God’s work of protecting the vulnerable.

The darkness is real. But the Light has come, and the darkness shall not overcome it. Amen.