December 30, 2007 – The First Sunday of Christmas
Matthew 2:13-23
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Grace and peace to you from God the Creator and the Lord Jesus. Amen.
There can be a huge difference between the Christmas we want and the Christmas we actually get. You might have had your heart set on that 52-inch flat screen, but a quick look under the tree on Christmas morning told you it wasn’t happening this year. You might have been hoping for a family gathering where, for once, the variety of personality quirks and petty jealousies would be set aside, even for only a few hours. But it didn’t take long, sitting around the dinner table, before you realized that those personality quirks and petty jealousies were just as alive and entertaining as always. Yes, there can be a big difference between the Christmas we want and the one we get.
Witness Matthew’s gospel. The Christmas story is barely 12 verses old when it turns ugly. On Monday night we sang, “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie; above they deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.” In a matter of days that silence would be shattered by the wailing and weeping of mothers crying over their dead children, killed by King Herod’s soldiers sent on a mission of murder. This isn’t the Christmas story we want, but it’s the story God gives us.
King Herod the Great had been shaken to his foundation. He had been visited by Wise Men from the East, foreigners, non-Jews, who had asked him about the birth of someone they referred to as the “King of the Jews.” The King of the Jews? Why, that was Herod’s title, given to him by his Roman masters! And now it appeared that he had a rival on his hands. And Herod knew how to deal with rivals.
Historians tell us that King Herod ruled from 37 BC to 4 BC, and that during that 33-year reign he ordered the execution of a number of people who threatened his power. He even had three of his own sons put to death. Now, in order to deal with any potential rivals, he orders what has become known as the Slaughter of the Innocents.
The devastation and loss and despair that Herod’s action causes in and around Bethlehem are actually an echo of an earlier event, recorded by the prophet Jeremiah centuries before the birth of Jesus. Then, the nation of Israel sat in ruins, conquered. Rachel, one of the matriarchs of the nation, wept for the children who had been killed or carted off into exile.
Sometimes, stories in the Bible take on a larger-than-life dimension when they are passed on as legends. That’s the case of the Slaughter of the Innocents. According to some legends, as many as 64,000 infants were killed at Herod’s order. But historians and anthropologists tell us that by the time Jesus was born, Bethlehem and the surrounding area had a population of probably no more than 1,000, and that perhaps 20 of them were infants. So the actual death toll was likely far fewer than legend would have us believe.
But the writer of Matthew’s gospel is not interested in numbers, in specific body counts. The late New Testament scholar Robert H. Smith said it well when he wrote: “Matthew’s heart, like Jeremiah’s, ached for all those slaughtered in times past and times present, for all the cruelties and senselessness of history.”
Throughout history, children and other innocent people have been caught in the crossfire of humans’ lust for power. For example, in the Darfur region of western Sudan in Africa it’s almost impossible to determine exactly how many people have been killed in the Sudanese government-sponsored genocide against the largely Christian population there. Some estimates range as low as 200,000; other estimates put the toll at around 400,000. The United States, with the most powerful military in the history of the planet, has for some reason decided to pursue a course of quiet diplomacy as the bloodshed continues. The rest of the world appears similarly uninspired to act. And so Darfur is taking its place on a list of names of places where the powerful seek more power and innocent people pay for it with their lives; places with names like Iraq, Afghanistan, Rwanda, Bosnia, Northern Ireland. King Herod, it seems, has a standing order for the Slaughter of the Innocents.
No, we don’t like this Christmas story. It’s not the one we want, but it’s the story God gives us. And it just might be the very story we need, because a god who will not come down into the middle of Bethlehem, or Iraq, or Afghanistan, or Darfur or Bosnia or your life or mine – a god like that can’t do us very much good. If God is going to save us, God has to come down to us because we can’t come to where God is, not on our own.
On Christmas Eve, we heard the beginning of John’s gospel: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth.” We call that the Gospel of the Incarnation: the good news that God, the creator of the universe, took on human form, became flesh and blood like one of us, to share our life and our experience, became fully human; but because he was also and at the same time fully divine, he was able to redeem all of the brokenness we both cause and suffer, and was able to save us so that we might be brought to God.
John’s gospel calls that The Word made flesh. Matthew’s gospel calls it Bethlehem.
God came to us as we are, not as we wish we were, not as we present ourselves to the world. I sometimes say that we’re pretty good at looking pretty good, but Jesus cuts through all of that and gets to the truth of who we really are, warts and doubts and scars and all. He came to us not because we need a cosmetic touch-up but because we need what we cannot supply for ourselves, a deep-down, fundamental transformation and healing that will bring us again into right relationship with God. That’s the process that was begun at Christmas and finished for all time at the Resurrection.
That’s why this particular Christmas story, the one we need whether we want it or not, calls for a response from us. Because the truth is, this world will hear the Christmas story, and will take it at face value, and celebrate with gifts and happy wishes, and leave it at that. On a deeper level, the world will hear the news of the Savior’s birth and say, “The Savior of the World has been born? This world sure looks like the same old place. The Savior of the World has been born? So what?” You and I are the answer to that So What question.
Let me put it this way. There once was a young man who was disillusioned, disappointed. He wanted to live in a world that was free of war, a world that was just and fair, a world that was compassionate. But he read the newspapers and watched the TV news, and he knew that the real world was a far cry from the one he wanted. As for himself, he wanted to be good, to live a good life, a compassionate life; but he knew himself well enough to know that that wasn’t a reality either. And so he found himself wandering the mall one Saturday afternoon, looking over what the world offered for happiness, when he noticed a store that he had never seen before.
He walked inside and immediately noticed that the man behind the counter looked like Jesus. “Are you Jesus?” he asked.
“Why, yes, I am,” Jesus said.
“And you work here?” the young man asked.
“Actually,” Jesus said, “I own the place. Here’s a pad and pencil. You’re free to wander the aisles and see what I have to offer. If you see something you like, mark it down on the pad, bring it back when you’re finished and I’ll see what we can do.”
The young man took the pad and pencil and began walking up and down the aisles. What he saw absolutely astounded him. There was peace on earth! An absence of war! There was forgiveness! There was justice and compassion! There was clean air! The young man wrote furiously as he shopped. Finally, he returned to the counter and presented his list to Jesus.
Jesus took the list, scanned it, smiled and said, “No problem.” He reached under the counter and retrieved a number of small envelopes, which he spread on the counter before the young man.
“What’re these?” the young man asked.
“These are seed packets,” Jesus replied. “You see, this is a seed store. You come in here and see what I have to offer, then you go and plant the seeds. You nurture and cultivate them; sometimes you get to see the fruits of your labor, sometimes you don’t; but it’s your job to plant them.”
“Wait a minute,” the young man said. “I can’t get these things to grow by myself.”
“I know,” Jesus said. “That’s my job; I provide the growth. Here’s the thing: You can’t make them grow without me, and I can’t get them planted without you.”
The young man thought for a moment, smiled at Jesus and said, “In that case, give me some more. I’ve got some friends, and we’ve got work to do.”
May God richly bless you, and accompany you, as you go to work in this new year. Amen.
