Matthew 2:1-23

12/12/10

Matthew 2:1-23

Hudson UMC

I would imagine that you have not heard too many sermons based on Matthew chapter two, and, those that you have heard focus on the story of the visiting Magi and God’s opening of the doors to Gentiles like you and me.  Though these events are, strictly speaking, not part of Advent, but Epiphany, they deal with events in the aftermath of Christ’s birth, so it is often associated with Advent and Christmas.  The well-known song, “We Three Kings” is based on this text, and I am sure that Al is glad that I didn’t pick that song for today.

However, I want to focus on a part of the text that is read, but seldom ever preached on.  In fact, I was told by a preaching professor that it only comes up once in the daily lectionary and not at all in the Sunday lectionary, which are collections of texts ordered around the Church calendar.  This means that most people never hear this text in church at all.

I want to concentrate on the portion of the text that tells the story of what has come to be known as “the slaying of the innocents,” where Herod, enraged that Jesus has been born, has all the children under the age of two in and around Bethlehem killed.  Before we talk about the theological issues at stake and what it means for us, let us first look at the event itself and try to understand it.

Try to imagine Herod as a classic, power-hungry king.  One day, a bunch of wealthy, well-educated people from a distant land came to his palace to asked him where the newborn king is.  As they were expecting a king, they did the logical thing and went to the palace in Jerusalem.  However, there was not a newborn king there and Herod knew it.  Who could this king be who was born, but not as a son to the current king?  You can imagine that Herod began to get more than a little bit nervous and jealous when he heard this.  He asked his wise men where the Messiah was supposed to be born and was told, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:  ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Herod probably wished that they had said any other city but Bethlehem.  In spite of the fact that most people today most closely associate Bethlehem with Jesus, the people of the time would have most closely associated Bethlehem with King David.  To be a king born in Bethlehem is to be compared closely with David, the great king of Israel, who built up the nation, defeating their enemies and bringing prosperity to the land.  David was held up to be the standard by which every other king was judged.  David had been promised that he would always have a descendant on the throne of Israel, and Herod was not a son of David.  Because of the census, if anyone was going to be born as a son of David, it would be in Bethlehem.  If someone born in Bethlehem was to be a king, it meant that they, and not Herod, would have the rightful claim to the throne.

However, Israel was not self-governing at this time, but was subject to Roman authority.  For the son of David, the anointed one, to be born, meant that the time was coming when God’s chosen leader would take the throne back, which, because of the political situation, would surely involve open rebellion against Rome.  This is why lots of people followed Jesus; they wanted a leader who would give them their political independence.  It is also the reason why so many people turned their back on Jesus; it became clear that this was precisely the kind of thing that Jesus had no intention of doing.  Once the people could no longer say that Jesus was on their side, they had no more use for him.

So Herod did what any king would have done, tried to have this other king killed. Of course, Herod doesn’t want to seem that he is cold-hearted, which he was, so he made up a story to try to get these wise men from the East to help him with his plan.  First, he asked them when this king’s star appeared, then he said, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

We can never know whether or not the wise men knew something was not quite right at the time, but we are told that they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they went home by a different way.  However, it was not long before Herod realized that his plan had not worked, so he went to plan “B.”  He never really planned to go and pay homage to Jesus; he was going to have him killed instead.  And yet, he knew that there was another way to get what he wanted.  He did not know exactly who this newborn king was, but he knew enough.  He knew that he was born in Bethlehem and he knew that he was about two years old.  All he needed to do was get rid of all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or younger.

And, as sad as it is to say, brothers and sisters, this is exactly what Herod did.  The way he figured it, his plan was foolproof.  Nobody could possibly have known what he was going to do, so nobody could warn the people ahead of time.  However, Joseph had a dream where he was warned that they were in danger and he took it so seriously that they left in the night, perhaps that very night and fled to Egypt.

When we think about these events, we usually rejoice because God, by protecting his Son, paved the way for us to be saved.  However, what about all those other children?  What about all the innocent people that died at the hands of Herod?  We don’t often think about them, either because we are deeply troubled by the tragedy, I must admit that I was overcome with emotion several times while preparing this sermon because, as you know, my son is less than two years old, or because we are afraid that God will come off as a villain, saving his own Son while allowing the children of others to die.

But this tragedy does not so much tell us about God as it does about humanity; indeed, it tells us far too much about humanity.  It tells us things we did not want to know and that we wish were not true about human beings, and yet it does not hold back.  We see, reflected back at us in this text, where human allegiances truly lie.  We see that, when forced to choose between following God and joining in his mission to the world or looking out for themselves, human beings tend to take the selfish route.  It is true that not everyone has been selfish, but when we look throughout the history of the world, often the deciding factor as to whether one goes down in history as noble or wicked is how much power they had.  The more power someone has, the more history tells us they will do anything they can to keep it.

Herod was not driven by the desire to do evil for evil’s sake, he was not hoping to be remembered as a wicked king who performed heartless deeds.  He was only trying to protect his crown, and, more nobly, the crowns of his sons.  But at what cost?  His position as a puppet ruler was so dear to him that nothing was sacred anymore.  He was afraid that his power was at risk, that this rival king would put an end to his dynasty.  The sad irony of the situation is that, though Herod was willing to have all the children under two years old in Bethlehem killed to stop Jesus from taking his crown, Jesus never dethroned Herod or his sons.  Even though Herod couldn’t stop Jesus, his fears were never realized.  The killing was absolutely useless and purely tragic.

Though the actual crown of the puppet king of Jerusalem was not at risk in the life of Jesus, Herod’s fears were not completely unfounded.  You see, even if Jesus was not first and foremost trying to start a political revolution, he was indeed attempting to overthrow the power structures of this world.  It seems to me that the exodus of Israel from Egypt shows us this particularly clearly.  The exodus was not political in the sense that Israel did not rise up against their oppressors and violently overthrow them, putting another government in their place.  However, it was political because it had a tremendous impact on Egypt’s power.  No longer did they have slaves, people they could force to do their bidding.  The Egyptian economy was left in shambles.  Their whole situation had changed and what the signs and wonders, culminating in Passover, show us is that Pharaoh could do nothing to stop it.

God’s action in the world at that time was profoundly political.  The power of humanity was laid low, even the greatest rulers of the earth, and God had his way, bringing deliverance out of oppression.  God did not take over management of Egypt, it is true, but God did not want to rule like an earthly king.  He did not want to wield a power that was paranoid of being overthrown, that had to resort to evil to secure itself.  God rules by love, even enduring horrible mistreatment at the hands of human beings, to overcome our supposed strength by his weakness.

This is precisely what happened in the birth of Christ.  Herod was a king, the right hand of Rome in Israel.  Herod saw his own power at risk and, because of that, he saw that Rome’s power was at risk, and so he did something terrible to try and stop it.  However, what he never realized was that his power was much more at risk than he could ever imagine.  Jesus was not out to rule Israel, or even all the Roman empire.  No, God’s kingdom covers the whole earth, leaving absolutely no one out.  God would not satisfy himself by being just one more provincial king, with his own little territory and his own special laws.  Nothing short of all of everyone will satisfy God. 

And how does he do that?  By becoming a weeping and wailing baby.  The almighty God of the universe brings about this kingdom, not by waging war, not by a sheer show of force, but by becoming supremely vulnerable.  Imagine it, that on the night Jesus was born, you could hold the very God of the universe in your hands, that the very Word of God was not able to speak, that the one who has never needed anyone or anything else to be who he is is utterly dependent on weak and broken human beings for everything.  The same Jesus who would one day refuse to turn stones into bread because human beings do not just need food to survive, but every word from the mouth of God, at the beginning of his life, could not go more than a few hours without being fed by his mother.

The God we serve is not a distant god who shouts orders at us and keeps track of our sins and good deeds on a heavenly ledger and just wants to make sure we have more good deeds than sins.  Just like God is not satisfied with only part of the world, or some of the people, he is not satisfied with only part of us.  God wants all of us and has gone to incredible lengths for it.  He has come to be one of us and one with us, to take our brokenness upon himself, has borne our weakness and taken our sins to the cross.  Remember, when we speak of Jesus being born, or Jesus being crucified, we are not just speaking of a man being born or dying, but God.  Martin Luther said that the reason God came to us as a baby and not some other way is because it was the only way we would not have been terrified of him.  And yet, even in this way, even in the weakness of a baby, God provoked power-hungry humanity to sin.

I want to close with a somewhat edited powerful and moving poem by Madeleine L’Engle.

Angel!  Messenger of light and death –

Is it by God’s will that you have come?

Each year I gave thanks and rejoiced

That the blood of the lamb was on the lintel

And you passed over the homes of Israel,

God’s children, and did not put your cold hand

Upon our fist born babes.  It was only the Egyptians,

the babes of those who worshipped foreign gods –

or no gods at all – that you struck down.

I did not even notice

The mourning of those Egyptian mothers.

Was not this God’s doing, and for our sakes,

That our people might go free of bondage?

Our mothers held their living infants

To their breasts; perhaps they laughed with joy.

Our God had once more saved his Chosen People.

God!

Was not my baby chosen, too?

Who is this child whose stabled birth

Caused Herod’s panic and revenge?  Lord!

Every Hebrew manchild under two.

Who was your angel, then?  Angel of light and death –

Was it God’s sword that flashed against our babes?

How can I ever again rejoice at Passover,

When other women’s babes, innocent of all guile,

Were slaughtered by your angel?

Passover – and where’s my child –

My Herod-hated, babe?

Your ways are not our ways, O God of love.

I do not understand the evil angels sent

Among Egyptians, nor the mothers,

Bereaved as Rachel, weeping for their dead.

I hold the body of my babe and curse you

That you did not stay the cruel sword.

Is this your love, that all these die

That one star-heralded man-child should live?

And what will be his end, O Lord?  How will he die?

How will you show this one saved child your love?

Let us pray.

AMEN