When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.
Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
King Herod is feeling terribly threatened, even more so as he realizes he has been tricked by the Magi from the east. In his fearfulness and rage, he becomes desperate. This king, this promised ruler among the Jews must be eliminated.
His solution? Kill 'em all. Find every male child under the age of two, and kill 'em. End of discussion, and problem solved.
Can you imagine? Can you imagine being a young Hebrew mother?
One moment, you are sitting playing with your child; perhaps he is suckling at your breast. The next minute-- slain at the cruel hands of a stranger.
And all because a human king was threatened by the promise of the Kingdom to come.
And the promise becomes even more pertinent and timely.
Come, Emmanuel, for we surely need God-With-Us now. This world, this king has betrayed us and taken from us that which matters most: the future, the continuance of the family. How can this be? Our hearts are broken. There is no stopping the tears. Come, Messiah.
There is much pain, profound darkness before the Light comes in to the world. And to blithely skip past this pain and anguish diminishes the power and depth of the joy which unfolded as the prophecies of old were fulfilled, one by one, as recounted in our gospels.
* * * * *
I wonder if perhaps part of what is missing in our churches today is a willingness to show what Richard Rohr would call our shadow side, the side that has walked in darkness.
We talk about leaving our past behind and living in the moment, about being mindful-- and that is a good and important task-- but we mustn't deny our past.
If the Hebrews had not been subjected to the tyranny of King Herod, would their hearts have been as open to the fulfillment of the promise? Would so many have been so receptive to John the Baptist's message of repentance?
As we walk these remaining days of Advent, I invite you to stop and rest in the sadness. Weep with Rachel. Feel the pain and desperation of the Hebrew women. And then-- read Isaiah's prophecies again, especially Isaiah 9, Isaiah 40 and Isaiah 53-- but if you have the time, seriously, curl up with the whole book, all sixty-six chapters, and allow the words to settle in your soul. (They are not all easy or pleasant. But they are all part of our story as followers of the Christ.)
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
Get there, sure. Get to the joy-filling words of hope. But don't be afraid to spend time praying in the words and worlds of pain in the context of the time. And allow these same words to heal your wounds.
Almighty God, help us to see your Light, even in the darkest of nights, and to find comfort in your presence. Help us to walk through the shadow as we seek your face. Amen
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