“Senseless suffering. Unstoppable Salvation.”
Sermon Text: Matthew 2:13-23
Over the past many weeks, we have rejoiced in the miraculous birth of our Lord, Immanuel, God with us. We’ve reflected on the faithfulness of Mary and Joseph, who submitted to the will of God and raised this child and named Him Jesus. We’ve reflected on the proclamation of angels, the joy of shepherds, and the wisdom of the Magi. But all of that is a part of last year, technically. In the meantime, we’ve transitioned into a brand-new year. The extra worship services, the familiar and nostalgic Christmas hymns and carols, the gifts under the tree, and the stockings filled with treats are now mostly memories of “last Christmas.” We won’t think much about such things until Christmas rolls around again in like 354 days.
Even though our tree is still up and most of the decorations, it feels very much like Christmas is already over. It’s actually the 11th day of Christmas; tomorrow is Epiphany. Yet for all hoopla—the decorations, parties, extra services—the “Joy to the World,” and “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men,” here we are at the end of Christmas, another year has passed, and yet the world feels very much the same as it did before Advent began. And so, for all of our preparations and celebrations, you have to wonder: Has Christmas actually changed anything?
We still find ourselves in a world broken by sin and suffering, desperately in need of salvation. In fact, the very first day of this New Year was marred by terror and death, making headlines for the worst possible reasons. Another senseless act of violence. The place: New Orleans; and fourteen people dead, dozens more injured—mostly young people, beloved sons and daughters—mowed down by a Muslim extremist using a pickup truck as a weapon. Fourteen families now end the Christmas season grieving the absence of those they love.
Where is the “peace on earth and goodwill towards men” that we heard the angel’s sing about at Christmas?
And lo! And behold, today we find out that even the Christmas story doesn’t conclude without the dark shadow of violence and evil cast upon it. Because, for all that Matthew’s and Luke’s account of Christmas is so beautifully woven with hope and joy, there is also a shade of terror and atrocity. Matthew reveals that, despite the wise men’s best efforts to keep secret the location of the Christ child, the cunning King Herod is not so easily duped. Realizing the wise men’s intentions, Herod resorts to a most dreadful decree: every baby boy in Bethlehem, two years old and younger, is to be brutally taken from their mother’s arms and senselessly slaughtered. Can you imagine the horror of such a moment? It’s heart-wrenching.
It’s in this context—the Christmas story, the whole story—we see a stark contrast between weeping Rachel and gentle Mary. Both women represent immeasurable love for their children. Yet one endures the deep anguish of loss, while the other rejoices in the miracle of salvation.
Our Gospel reading makes me wonder why it is that the greatest birth in history—the birth of God in the flesh—had to be accompanied by such an atrocity, the needless slaughter of so many innocents. And why couldn’t this have been prevented? After all, the Christmas story is filled with accounts of angels flitting here and there and everywhere–the angel Gabriel visits Zachariah, Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and the wise men. Why couldn’t the angel have knocked on a few more doors or visited a few more dreams that terrible night, warning all the unsuspecting parents in Bethlehem about this imminent threat?
My heart breaks for poor Rachel, weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted. I don’t want to be comforted, either. Because when you see terror and violence like that our reaction is to want justice for these little ones. We want action, answers, and accountability, some kind of explanation to try to make sense of it all.
Yet, Matthew doesn’t give any commentary on these events. He doesn’t explicitly explain “why” these things happened. In part, we are left to ponder and wonder what it all could mean. But one thing is for sure, in relating these evil things to us, thrown in our face is the brutal truth that in a world where infants can be callously slaughtered by a wicked king, or a crowd of innocent people can be plowed over by a madman in a truck, there can be no pretending that this world isn’t broken and corrupted by sin and desperately in need of salvation. Christmas comes and goes but the world pretty much seems to stay the same, in this regard; even the very first Christmas was like this!
Yes, indeed, in relating Herod’s evil actions, Matthew also forces us to consider another stark contrast: The strange truth that the little hands we glimpse in the manger will someday be pierced by hammer blows and nails; the beautiful, chubby-cheeked face of the baby Jesus will, in adulthood, be spit upon and struck by angry fists; His forehead crowned with thorns. You see, one way or another, Herod won’t be the only one who will do violence against Jesus. But nothing and no one will be able to thwart God’s plan of bringing salvation through Christ.
Just think about it! Even when God became as frail and small as a baby, even in such a weak form as that, God could not be stopped and His salvation could not be hindered; not until Jesus, Himself, would lay down His own life upon the cross.
You see, although we might hope that God’s becoming flesh would usher in an era of peace and goodwill, as the angels proclaimed on that holy night, Matthew’s account of Herod’s atrocities serves as a reminder that Christmas alone does not encompass the whole Gospel. The incarnation marks the beginning of a much larger story. It is who Jesus will grow up to be and what He will do, that becomes the fullness of Good News for us.
Now, as for those baby boys of Bethlehem, we’ll probably never really know why they entered into their glory even before their Lord did. Their parents who mourned their deaths probably never fully saw how it all fit into God’s plan. Maybe 33 years later when Jesus was crucified, poor Rachel stood at a distance beholding the cross and the suffering of our Lord and said to herself, “If he had lived, my boy would be as old as that Jesus is. Thank God my boy didn’t ever have to face anything like that.”
But you and I are blessed to see deeper and further. Not only does this episode of the Christmas story—as violent and tragic as it is—give us reason to rejoice in God’s unstoppable salvation, we are also blessed to see that this has always been the hope of God’s people whenever evil seems to win the day and we wonder why God would allow it.
Just ask poor Rachel about it.
In fact, let’s talk about her for just a moment. Notice that Matthew doesn’t directly speak of her, instead he says that all this happened to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah about her: ‘A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more’” (2:17-18).
Now, for those who might not know, the prophet Jeremiah lived some 600 years before Jesus was born. Rachel was even older, some 1200 years before Jeremiah.
She was the beloved second wife of Jacob (Genesis 29-35), and initially was intended to be his bride. However, her father deceived Jacob, tricking him into marrying her older sister Leah. Rachel had to endure seven long years of waiting to finally marry the man she loved. Yet, even after their union, Rachel faced immense hardship; she struggled with barrenness for much of their marriage. Eventually, God blessed her with a son named Joseph, but her joy was short-lived as he was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, leaving Rachel to grapple with the anguish of losing her only child, who to her, was “no more.”
Tragically, Rachel’s suffering didn’t end there. She later gave birth again but died in childbirth. She was buried in Ramah, not all that far from Bethlehem. Her legacy of sorrow and mourning makes her the Old Testament embodiment of pain and loss, a living example of the struggles that will transcend generations of God’s people that come after her. It’s through the lens of Rachel’s story, that Jeremiah the prophet, some 1200 years later, will lament the destruction of Israel and the exile of the Israelites to Babylon. Those exiles would pass through Ramah on their way to Babylon, and Jeremiah swears he could hear old Rachel weeping, weeping for her children “because they are no more” (Jeremiah 31:15-17).
And then Matthew, does the same thing in our text. But Matthew isn’t just doing this for sentimental purposes. No. He’s highlighting how all throughout salvation history, whenever God’s people suffered great tragedy and violence and thought all was lost, the truth was that God was still at work for them, accomplishing salvation for them. They couldn’t always see the big picture, but God could, and nothing could stop God from making it a reality—not even when Rachel’s son, Joseph, was sold into slavery by his brothers, not even when Isreal was exiled to Babylon, and not even when Herod tried to kill Jesus by slaughtering the baby boys of Jerusalem. God’s salvation in Christ is unstoppable! It doesn’t change; not even when evil, wicked, violent things happen in our world today. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.
The weeping of Rachel, then, is a poignant image not only of enduring sorrow but also of a relentless yearning for justice and redemption and hope. It inspires us to become beacons of hope in a world that desperately needs it—to live, act, and love in ways that foster real change. As we step into the new year, we carry with us the promise that God walks alongside us, even amidst the darkest days or the most tragic moments—even amidst tragedies like what happened in New Orleans. Rachel’s weeping serves as a poignant reminder of our collective struggle and shared hope, illuminating a path in the darkness towards the light that broke into the world in Bethlehem and still shines brightly of God’s love and salvation, today.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
O Lord, open my lips... 
This really helped me this evening- thank you for sharing the Word of God.
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