A Sermon from First Church…. 

A sermon offered by the Rev. Ian F. “Jack” Steeves in the public worship of the First Congregational Church of Scarborough, Maine on Sunday, December 30, 2007.  The principal reading was Matthew 2:13-23. 

“Christmas: The Rest of the Story” 

“When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the Magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem…” (Matthew 2:16). 

I know that you know that I know that you know the Gospel story of Christmas.  Those of you who were in worship last Sunday and on Christmas Eve heard it once again.  You know the glorious words of Luke and Matthew.  You will also hear a portion of Matthew’s account, relating to the visit of the Wise Men, next Sunday.  I suspect, however, that you might not be as familiar with the portion of the story read this morning. 

Given the contemporary world in which we are now living, t is time to consider “The Rest of the Story.” 

The vicious act of mass murder perpetrated in Bethlehem against Jesus’ young neighbors is as much a part of the Christmas narrative as the baby who is cradled in love and haloed in holiness, lighting the stable with his peace. 

Today, the print and electronic media will not permit us to become too lost in the revelry of the season.  Christmas is not only a feast for good children and reformed men and women; it is also a time when the demons feast and the evil in some human beings, unremitting and hateful as it is, is also very well fed. 

Not only did the three Kings bring their gifts on bended knee, and do homage to the Christ child, a fourth King sent his henchmen with sharp swords and did murder in and around Bethlehem. 

Let’s talk about this fourth King, Herod the Great.  He had earned his title. 

Herod had reigned as King for almost thirty years.  He had been a clever military leader and ruler.  Like his father before him, he had the knack of being able to sniff out the competing airs of imperial politics in Rome and make the right decisions.  He had early on shrewdly advised his late friend Mark Antony to dump Cleopatra and make peace with Rome.  (Antony should have listened to him.)  Once Octavius emerged victorious from the Roman civil wars and became Caesar Augustus, the new Emperor found a most intimate friend in Herod. 

Herod proved to be an exceptionally able ruler.  He groomed and beautified his nation.  He erected palaces, fortresses, aqueducts, cities, and the new Temple in Jerusalem.  He built a magnificent seaport on the Mediterranean Sea and named it Caesarea.  In hard times and seasons of famine, Herod remitted taxes and, on one occasion, sold his own gold and silver dinnerware to buy food for the hungry populace. 

In his last years, Herod was a changed man, some said a deranged man, and had little contact with or support from his people.  He was too “Romanized” for many of his subjects.  He had never been a gentle man, nor deeply religious, and was hated as a tyrant even by members of his own family.  He had, by some accounts, married ten wives who spawned a brood of sons and daughters who were deeply involved in palace intrigues.  He killed or had killed his favorite wife, Mariamne, and her grandfather, and her mother, and a brother-in-law, and three of his own sons.  He also drowned another brother-in-law who had served as a high priest in the Temple. 

By the time of Jesus’ birth, Herod was living on borrowed time and would soon die.  His evil spirit lived on in his surviving sons, their wives, and their monstrous offspring.  One of them, also called Herod, called “the Fox,” would trouble Jesus throughout his ministry.  He would also order the execution of John the Baptist and live long another himself to begin hunting down the first apostles. 

Two thousand years have not rid the world of Herod’s malevolent spirit.  Not a lot changes in the world does it?  Human power, when aroused and threatened, reacts with either guile or force.  Evil can be reborn at any time, in any place, and in any one of us.  The ancient poetry of the prophet Jeremiah captures the truth: “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.”  It is not a pretty saying, but, then, it was not and is not a pretty world. 

Evil comes in two kinds: the destruction that we ourselves will to be or commit, and the blight, which falls upon us beyond our own doing and most often without just cause. 

The first “evil” is a timeless, moral problem and its solution is obvious: we should ever choose the good over the evil and practice it alone.  It is always the right time to do the right thing. 

The second “evil” is wholly different in its cry: why, though we do choose the good and do it, does harm still befall some of us and sufferings afflict many of us? 

The Christ child escaped the sword of Herod but the man Jesus died under the order of Pilate with the active complicity of Herod the Younger. 

Christmas is not only for the most fortunate and the very lucky.  Christ came for all, and died for all, and rose for all.  We need to think of those who are sick and imprisoned, separated by years or by distance, or by broken relationships and are alone; those too poor to give and too proud to ask; and the innocents who this Christmas of laughter and singing are sad and weeping.  They, too, have a place, mysterious and tragic, but nonetheless real within the season. 

The longer I live, the more convinced I have become that the entire human race is tolerated by our always just God because of its innocent minority, some very young and some not too young at all.  There is a strange vitality in human innocence.  The innocent are always present, picking away at our jaded consciences; and readily available when humanity’s payments fall due on their heads.  They are neither true heroes nor cowards.  Usually nameless, they are probably not conscious of carrying the fate of humankind on their bent backs.  Still, they are always there.  Their presence in our world is a strange, stabilizing, confessing agent, the precious ingredient that maintains a delicate balance, trying to prevent us from losing our humanity and finally destroying ourselves. 

The innocent can be God’s way of reminding us that salvation is real and will hold the line, while all that is truly evil exacts its due.  When the hearts of men and women are open, so, we pray, will be their eyes and their ears.  With an insight and a courage not given to other books, the Gospel speaks of the innocent and the not so innocent, as equal recipients of God’s attention, God’s justice, and God’s mercy. 

God is the Heavenly Parent and the Divine disturber of us all.  This Christmas, as in past Christmases, we have few words of comfort for the innocent.  We would speak healing words if we knew them but we do call out to all humanity as brothers and sisters. 

Here and there, some people still love as they are meant to love; and some still suffer for no apparent reason; but evil does not win out, not always, and ultimately not ever.  The power of the total Christmas story is the power of a promise kept: that even in a cold season, in a dark place, among strangers, a new birth is still possible.  It happened once, it can happen again. 

Christ is born in us and born again for all of us.  In the words of one young father and preacher, we need to pray: “Good God, defend us always from those who will seek our lives…and keep us safe from all evil.  Thanks be to God who gives us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  Amen.