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| "Wise Men" journey from "the East" following a star to visit a newborn King. Matthew 2:1-15 |
The visit of the wise men (recorded in Matthew 2) is on tap for this week in the lectionary (I know
cause I'm reading!!) I find it
interesting that the "official" reading stops at v 15. Hmmh?? Okay, they flee
to Egypt, because Herod is upset about being tricked. But I wonder why we don’t finish the chapter,
or at least go as far as v 18.
Read on, and we learn how Herod responds. To guarantee no threats to his
rule, the paranoid ruler orders infanticide—any
male infant under age two is to be killed!
So the Holy Family becomes displaced refugees fleeing for fear of their
son’s life. Possibly, in a town the size
of Bethlehem, this would only account for a few dozen infants and toddlers as
opposed to hundreds or thousands—but does that make Herod’s act any less
heinous?
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| Massacre of the Innocents Matthew 2:16-18 |
It's almost as if we'd prefer to forget about the rest of Matthew 2, or at least skip vv 16-18. I mean, it’s Christmas, for God’s sake! Who wants to dwell on dead children, or on a grieving
mother, weeping uncontrollably over the deaths of children?!
In 2012, we know that the people of Newtown, CT were weeping— and will weep for many
Christmases to come. Christmas will likely "never be the same" for them. Obviously Newtown and Bethlehem are worlds apart in many
ways, but some of the details seem eerily similar. In both cases, dozens of innocent children were murdered in cold
blood.
In 2008, it was more personal for me. That was the first Christmas after our
daughter Hope died two days after she was born.
That year—I wept bittersweet tears, as we also celebrated her identical
twin sister Rebecca’s first Christmas with us.
In Rebecca’s eyes, even in our
darkest days, we continued to see Hope.
I suppose there's a natural human tendency to focus on the
good and joyful stories in the Bible, and especially at Christmas. Lord knows
you won't see the Massacre of Innocents
portrayed in the kid's Christmas Pageant—and, to be clear, I’m not advocating
adding this scene to next year’s drama.
But as we progress in our Christian maturity, the Bible's PG- and
R-rated scenes, such as the ones in Matthew 2, are
appropriate—and important—to contemplate.
Likewise, if we wish to understand
the full Story of Jesus, we also would do well to ponder the ominous and chilling
end of Simeon’s prophecy in Luke 2—words
of warning spoken to Mary. They come
after the better known public blessing known as the Nunc
Dimmitus (vv 29-32) where, upon seeing baby Jesus at the Temple,
Simeon proclaims that he can now "die in peace" for his eyes have seen salvation. Simeon goes on to proclaim that Jesus will be
a light… to the Gentiles. Those are revolutionary words for a Jewish
priest to utter—echoing the prophecy of "The Servant" from Isaiah in the Old Testament (Isaiah 42:6-7).
Then comes the unsettling part of the prophecy. Imagine Simeon stepping away from the crowd
gathered, and sharing this last part in private[1]. He quietly tells Mary—and maybe Joseph: This child is destined for the falling and
the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35so
that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’ —Luke 2:34-35
Luke (writing decades after these events) uses Simeon’s
prophetic words to foreshadow the events we remember during Lent and Holy Week.
Are these words history or literary device? We aren’t entirely sure, but I can tell you that any mom (or dad)
suffering loss of a child can certainly relate to feeling as if a sword has pierced our very soul.
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| Visting Hope's grave—Christmas 2012. Rejoicing alongside weeping. In the face of Rebecca we always see Hope. |
If we just leave Jesus
in the manger (itself not exactly the Kodak
moment with children and youth in bathrobes that we make it out to be) and then
return to the empty tomb—I feel we miss crucial details to understanding Jesus.
There is a darker side to Christmas—and to Christ—that we
all need to experience and embrace if we want to fully appreciate the whole
story of Jesus. Maybe I feel it so
acutely because I lived it in recent years following the loss of my daughter,
and other difficult life circumstances.
It's not a path that any of us would choose
to walk, but it's journey we ALL
need to take.
The journey is
difficult and painful, but we are more complete as individuals (and as a
community) when we can embrace both rejoicing and weeping as part of our
faith.
If we can enter in to both rejoicing and weeping (suffering),
we begin to appreciate how Christ entered
in. Jesus came to the world as it
really was—and how it really is today—as opposed to the idyllic world portrayed
in Hallmark cards. Jesus experienced the full range of human
emotion. He didn't ignore the height of
celebration and rejoicing, nor did he ignore the grim and gritty reality of
suffering and tragedies that often defy explanation—like infants dying, or
children being slaughtered in their beds… or classrooms.
Jesus didn’t flinch
in the face of real life; he entered
into it all—he came to be with us
just as we were. He didn’t wait for us
to “clean up our act;” he rolled up his sleeves and helped with the “clean-up”.
In taking on our flesh, Jesus got about as personal as you
can get. He experienced all of life as we experience it. Through Jesus, God was redeeming not only us
as individuals, but for the whole world, and for that to happen Jesus had to be
fully human—while also fully divine. The
world was off course and God intended to put things right, and Jesus invited us
to join him in that effort. Jesus',
life, death, and resurrection lay the seeds of that transformation, and still
bears fruit today. Through the Holy
Spirit, Jesus continues to be with
all those who follow him, and becomes real as you and I share him with those we
meet.
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