While Rachel Sobs

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod [Matthew 2:13-15a].

We had a post-Christmas ritual in the household of my youth that I silently despised. On the 27th or 28th of December each year, Mother would pack away all vestiges of Christmas and have several of us boys drag the naked tree out into the nearby woods so that “things could get back to normal.” More than thrice, I recall her saying, “There’s nothing more over than Christmas.”

To Mother, the statement had no theological overtones; her sentiment was based on two factors:

• Both Mother and Dad were children of the Great Depression and during that dark period of American History, Christmas had a way of emphasizing the distance between families that had resources and families that did not. Both Mother and Dad grew up in the latter category.
• Dad was a senior manager and later an executive in the Belk chain of department stores. From Black Friday until Christmas Eve—except for Sundays—he worked 14-hour days. To be sure, our family finances depended upon the annual Christmas season, but Mother was glad to have it behind her each year.

That’s one of many reasons I enjoy following the liturgical calendar (and the Lectionary) rather than the secular one. For most Christians, Christmas doesn’t end with December 25th. Today—the 28th—it’s still Christmas. Tomorrow will also be Christmas. Indeed, Christmas lasts from Christmas Day until January 6. Extending Christmas for 12 days allows us to recognize that there is so much more to the Nativity story than just singing a few carols and seeing a baby swaddled in a manger. And while the birth of Christ may be “glad tidings” for some, it’s bad news for others.

For example, this year (Year “A”), the Revised Common Lectionary follows Matthew’s Gospel and, therefore, during these days of Christmas, the so-called “wise” men are front and center. Only, we might wonder just how smart these gents really are. Although the old Epiphany hymn might refer to them as “We three kings,” they don’t seem to know much about kings. Do smart men go to the reigning king and say, “We’ve concluded that a new king has been born. Might you let us see him?”

Do smart men believe a king like Herod is serious when he tells them to find the new king and, once they have found him, let him know where the child is, so that Herod can kneel as well? Of course not. Matthew’s point: There’s much more going on here than we see at first blush. From the beginning of his Gospel, Matthew stresses that once Jesus is born, two kingdoms stand in opposition to each another. One is a kingdom of violence, the other is a kingdom of peace. Whose kingdom will win out?

The kingdom of violence threatens the kingdom of peace, but each time that it does so, God intervenes on the side of peace. Herod reaches out to kill all male children born during a two-year period— “Better safe than sorry,” thinks Herod. Yet Joseph, warned in a dream, carries his family to Egypt to await the death of Herod. They eventually return and settle in Nazareth but, of course, two more violent Herods rise to take the place of the first.

When Jesus becomes an adult, the threat of violence reemerges. Herod Antipas imprisons John the Baptizer. Jesus hears the news, and the King of Peace draws away. John is beheaded and again Jesus draws away. Finally, during Holy Week, Jesus Himself is arrested and one of his own, Peter, draws a sword to meet violence with violence [John 18:10]. Jesus announces that He could, of course, call down twelve legions of angels to strike down his foes [Matthew 26:53], but His kingdom of Peace cannot and will not be based upon violence. On Calvary, the kingdom of violence appears to win when Jesus is humiliated and dies, but Christ has the last word. The tomb is empty!

To be sure, our Faith teaches us that Christ was victorious in His resurrection, but the struggle between violence and peace continues. This year, thousands of Nigerian Christians were murdered because of their faith. Christians are persecuted in China and elsewhere. Our major cities are war zones. According to a recent study by Brandon del Pozo, a former New York City police officer and now a Brown University scholar, young men in the worst neighborhoods of Chicago and Philadelphia are more likely to be shot and killed than were the young men who fought on the bloodiest frontlines in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Bullets aren’t the only deadly agents in the kingdom of violence these days. According to a recent report published by the American Medical Association, from January 2021 to January 2022, more than 107,000 Americans died from overdoses of illicitly manufactured fentanyl, methamphetamine, and cocaine— often in combination. The kingdom of violence exports its dangerous products to undermine our youth.

I know, I know; I’m getting away from Matthew’s Gospel, from the story of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus. If we can concentrate on that confrontation between violent king Herod and the peaceful holy family, then we won’t have to think so much about the same sort of confrontations that occur before our very eyes.

A few days before Christmas, a lone English woman, Ms. Isabel Vaughan-Spruce, was arrested by three UK police officers as she stood in a “buffer” zone adjacent to a Birmingham abortion clinic. She held no protest sign. She threatened no one. A police officer asked her if she was praying. She said, “I might be silently praying.”

You see, in much of England, prayer isn’t allowed near an abortion clinic. It might hurt business. And so, Ms. Vaughan-Spruce was taken into custody. She was physically searched, her mobile telephone, keys and other possessions were taken from her, and she was jailed until she could subsequently post bond. You see, prayer—even silent prayer—is too dangerous for the secular world to tolerate. The kingdom of violence must stamp it out.

Just as Herod was afraid of a baby in diapers, so a loud, powerful segment of our society is afraid of the unborn and terrified of those who silently pray for them. The kingdom of violence cries out that these unborn must be stopped. They must not be allowed to live, for they threaten the kingdom’s autonomy. It’s enough to make one cry.

A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more [Matthew 2:18, a portion of the Gospel reading for the First Sunday after Christmas Day, Year A (RCL)].

If Rachel, the mother of Israel (Jacob) was to utter her loud lament over the death of so many modern-day young ones, might the kingdom of violence arrest her too?

Today, December 28, is Holy Innocents Day, the day on which some Christians commemorate the deaths—at the hands of Herod’s minions—of the little boys in Bethlehem whose mother was not the Virgin Mary. Many of us recognize that even today, the kingdom of violence is still trying to win. And so, we pray for all who die because of the choices made by others. We pray as well for those who think, or who have been taught, that violence is the answer to their problem.

We cry along with Rachel, but we have an advantage that she did not enjoy during her life. We have knowledge of Christ. We have the knowledge that in the end a Peaceful victory is assured through Christus Victor (tr., Christ the Victor).

As I have mentioned on other occasions, we live “between-the-times.” That is to say that we live after the Resurrection and Ascension, but before our Lord’s full return. During this time, the Kingdom of Peace often appears not to be prevailing. That’s where faith occurs. While we wait, we enjoy the Grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Love of God, and the Fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Amen and Amen.