Wise Men, a King, and Wholesale Slaughter

(As may be my new habit, I've asked my husband, Alex, who has his Master's in Divinity from Fuller Seminary to read through before I posted and I have left his comments in green italics)

The story of Herod and the Magi is one that has always bothered me. I mean, a lot about the various Herods bothers me, but this story in particular holds a lot of conflict. How was part of God's plan of salvation to cause the deaths of all the boys under three in Bethlehem? Haven't enough innocent Jewish children died because of the whims of a cruel king? I've wondered about this too. I find it interesting that the feast of the Holy Innocents is 12/28, part of the 12 days of Christmas.

As I read this story this time I felt my anger toward the Magi rise. As a child, I always liked them. They seemed mysterious and I loved the sound of the words "frankincense" and "myrrh." (Come on, myrrh is such an beautiful word!) How could the Magi, these wise men, not realize what they were doing by going to the capital and announcing that the one the Jews believed would overturn Herod and the Roman had been born? Surely they knew that news like that would reach Herod and he would not be pleased.

For the past few years I have been reading through The Wheel of Time. It's a fourteen, massive novel fantasy series on the scope of Lord of the Rings (It is one of Alex's favorite series and we named our son after one of our favorite characters - even though I hadn't finished reading the series when he was born). There is a group of characters - the Brown Ajah of the Aes Sedai - who are characterized as scholarly and unaware of the world around them and ramifications of what they say and do. Could it be that the Magi were so invested in their world of books and astronomy that they did not realize what they were doing?

Or maybe Matthew (who is the only one who records this story) is making a statement about the insignificance of Herod's earthly kingdom. His rule was so unimportant to the Magi in the face of the Kingdom of God (or at least they didn't see this Herod in any sort of meaningful role) that they did not stop to consider the ramification of what they were doing. And, honestly, Herod is a bit unimportant in the geopolitical scheme of things at the time. He is, as Stanley Hauerwas says, "king only because it pleases the Romans...a pawn used by Rome to maintain order useful to Rome." Which again connects to where the genealogy left us.

They also are foreigners. They exist outside the political climate of Israel so they might be unaware that the Jews have been praying for someone to come overthrow Herod and the rule of Rome. They may not realize that they are delivering the one Herod perceives as competition into his hands. After all, if the Son of God is truly on earth in the flesh, is it so hard for them to believe that everyone - including a king in the pocket of Rome - would want to come worship Him? It should be noted - because it's something I personally never realized before - that the wise men do not go directly to Herod. They come to Jerusalem and ask around for the King of the Jews. This causes a stir that reaches Herod's ears. Matthew says that he "was troubled, and all of Jerusalem with him." (Why was Jerusalem disturbed? Don't they dislike Herod? Yes, but they fear Rome more. If someone comes and rabble rouses the Romans may unseat Herod and take over rule directly. That would be very bad for the Jews)

After hearing about the wise men, Herod calls them to him and gets all crafty. He is planning to save his own neck and throne by having the Wise Men lead him to the child king so he can snuff out the threat. We all know what happens next: the magi are warned and don't return, Joseph is warned and flees with his little family to Egypt (following the path of Israel's story), and Herod is enraged. Since he does not know for sure which child in Bethlehem is Jesus - or even exactly how old he is - he "sent and slew all the male children in Bethlehem and all its vicinity, from two years old and under." (also echoing the book of Exodus, with Herod playing the part of the despotic Pharaoh)

This story crushes my heart every time. As a child I hurt to think of other children dying. As an adult and mother I am also broken for the families that were destroyed. I can almost hear the weeping of the mothers holding their beautiful, broken boys who just moments before were full of life and promise. What were they doing when the soldiers broke down their doors or ran them down in the street? Were they singing? Had they just spoken a new word and been immensely pleased with themselves? I can't imagine how "Bethlehem and all its vicinity" must have sounded when this occurred. The screaming, the keening wails of mothers whose hearts were bleeding out in their arms. This was not a culture that held back in its displays of sorrow.

Photo by Arwan Sutanto on Unsplash

"Jesus is born into a world in which children are killed," says Hauerwas, "and continue to be killed, to protect the power of tyrants." It was Herod's fear that drove him to commit this heinous act. We aren't told how the people of Jerusalem reacted to this slaughter, but when we remember that they were as "troubled" as Herod was about the Wise Men proclaiming the birth of Jesus it isn't too hard to imagine they turned a blind eye. We can pat ourselves on the backs today - we would never turn a blind eye to a ruler harming innocents. Wouldn't we though, especially if it wasn't as overt as wholesale slaughter? And isn't it possible that we would condone or even applaud the actions? I have heard several dear, Christian friends of mine say something to the tune of "well, they shouldn't have crossed the border illegally!"

Friends, this story haunts me, and always has. It's one I generally choose to ignore or gloss over (as we almost all do every Christmas - no one has a dead child in their nativity!) because it's easier. Or at least less painful. I hate that something like this is in the "Good Story."

But, it may be argued, doesn't Jesus' death and resurrection redeem this? No. No, it doesn't. Children were murdered, their potential snuffed out. Families were destroyed. Hearts broken. Likely those families never knew why this happened and may never have known the Savior that their children were killed to protect. Nothing will make up for the blood and tears that flowed in Bethlehem. Nothing. Hauerwas says "[the crucifixion and resurrection] is not a consolation for those whose children were murdered. Rather, those who would follow and worship Jesus are a challenge to those who would kill children."

This ache in my soul - this knot of anger in my stomach - for the untimely end of children who lived thousands of years ago should be a driving force in my life if I truly follow Christ. It should be a rallying cry for the Church to stand in the gap for the children the world casts aside. The orphans, the unloved, the abused, the marginalized, the impoverished, and the abandoned children. We live in an adult-centric society that mostly sees children as an inconvenience. There is little or no room for families to balance work and caring for their children, especially if the parent is single. We as the Body of Christ should be working to fill those holes but, quite frankly, I do not see that happening often. And that hurts my heart and shakes my faith almost as much as knowing that God allowed innocent children to be slaughtered to sate the fear of a king.

I don't have a pretty bow with which to tie up this post. I am still working on how to rectify this story with the image of a loving, benevolent God. A God who, like a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wings, wants to gather us. I would love to hear your thoughts on it. How do you deal with this difficult story?

The Genealogy of Christ

(I asked my husband, Alex, to proofread this post. He left some thoughts to challenge me and I loved what he wrote so much - and the way it turned this into almost a conversation - that I left it in. The things that Alex wrote are in green italics.)

Growing up, the genealogies in the Bible were always the hardest part to read. So-and-so had so-and-so with so-and-so who had so-and-so. On and on. I would skim it at best, skip it at worst. But this afternoon, as I opened Matthew to begin my journey through the Gospels, I was arrested by the very first line: The Genealogy of Jesus the Messiah. It hit me for the first time how impressive it is that all of this was common knowledge, passed down orally from generation to generation until it could be written down. Thousands of years of familial knowledge. People knew who they were, they knew where they had come from.

I have to pause and wonder: when did we stop doing this? Is it simply because it is too hard to keep track of thousands upon thousands of years of family history? Or did we start to become so wrapped up in ourselves and the immediacy of our lives that we can't be bothered with knowing where we come from? And yet, at some point or another, we all wonder where we came from. Adopted children often seek out their blood families to try to understand themselves. People pay hundreds of dollars to companies like 23 and Me or Ancestry.com to find out more about themselves. I have considered doing it myself (have you done it? Was it worth it? Let me know!).

Jesus was able to track His line. He knew who He was and where He had come from on both sides of His family - earthly and divine. His line has a few impressive members and a few who are not as shiny. David - the Man After God's Own Heart - who also had a man killed to cover his infidelity. Rahab, infamously known as "The Harlot." The twice widowed and cast aside Tamar who tricked her father-in-law into impregnating her. Batsheba who was forcibly taken from her life with Uriah after being impregnated by David. Solomon who, for all his wisdom, seems to have been prone to depression and had a weak spot for women. He allowed idol worship in Israel for the sake of his many foreign wives and concubines. Solomon's son, Rehoboam, was party to the division of Israel. He shattered the unity of the Apple of God's Eye. Abraham and Isaac, the time honored patriarchs of Israel, both liked about being married to their wives to protect themselves. Jacob, whose name means "He grasps the heel" or "supplanter," lied to his ailing father and stole his brother's birthright.

So, more than a list of names, Jesus is heir to a certain story. Matthew's Gospel highlights certain elements of that story in his genealogy. What sort of theological claims are being made? 

In his commentary on the book of Matthew, Stanley Hauerwas asserts that "in Jesus we now rightly understand the beginning because we now see the end." Matthew begins with Jesus' family tree as a reflection of the creation story in Genesis. "Jesus' story is the story of new creation," says Hauerwas. Isn't that something we hold dear? The old has gone and new has come? Jesus did away with the old law as a sign of the new covenant? I never before considered how, as the first born, Jesus inherits the story of creation. Specifically, He inherits the story of Israel. As we will see later in His story (spoiler *Wink*), Jesus follows the path of Israel through Egypt and the desert. His life story is symbolic, step by step he redeems not only his family tree but Israel's history.

Likewise, we live storied lives, i.e., we are recipients of a story that we had nothing to do with but instead has shaped our lives in more ways than we can know. All in all, this is not the shiniest family history. And yet, it is the family line chosen to be the earthly family of The Messiah. 

In my opinion, there are two ways we can look at this lineage:

1. Wow! isn't it amazing how God can redeem anyone's sin - including mine? God really can do amazing work with cracked vessels. (Even more than working with cracked vessels, Jesus identifies with these marginal elements in Israel's story. 1. How does this already color vs. 1, "Jesus the Messiah the Song of Abraham the Son of David? 2. What does this say to your initial question in this blog: What/Who is God? 3. These pivotal, though perhaps disreputable, women culminate in the life of a young Jewish girl suddenly finding herself with child. What could this framing of Jesus' genealogy say about Mary and her role in Israel's story/the story of God?)
2. Wow! How can I be so judgmental of (insert any person you have judged for leading a "sinful" life - including yourself)? I don't know what work might be being don in and through that situation.

I don't think either view is any more or less correct than the other. Honestly, I think they should be merged into one beautiful view. How might we live differently if we were to truly look at everyone - the single parent up the street, the homeless person on the corner, the illegal immigrant, the gay couple, the drug addict, the Trump support, the person who has an "I'm with her" bumper sticker - through the lens of the family line of Christ? God didn't deem anyone on that list as not good enough, though many of us would have been the first to say they should have been excluded. Instead, as Alex pointed out, Jesus identified with them. We will see this again and again as Jesus moves into ministry.

Those who the culture at the time deemed to be less than Christ used to further His ministry and story.

So, then, my question that I have been pondering recently: How can we call ourselves Christians - "little Christs" - if we are the first to cast stones and build walls?