Weeping Rachel

Weeping Rachel

Pastor Mark Havel

Matthew 2:13-23

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation,

Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because

they are no more.”

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead. Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

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This Gospel is always a buzz-kill when it shows up so soon after Christmas – and on New Year’s Day this time around, no less. This story of Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents,” as it’s known, is a fly in the ointment of our Christmas celebrations. It is a turd in our New Year’s Eve punch bowl. It is rain on our parade, all the way around. And it’s a story we might wish we would have stayed home from on the first day of 2023.

It is Matthew’s Gospel moving straight from the story of Jesus’ birth, told in just a handful of sentences that say nothing about shepherds in fields, mangers in Bethlehem, angels singing “glory to God” or “peace for those whom he favors.” In Matthew’s version of the story, Mary takes no time to ponder or treasure any of that in the glow of candlelight, like we did on Christmas Eve.

In Matthew’s version of the Christmas story, Mary and Joseph are engaged, there’s going to be a baby, his name will be Jesus – “because he’s going to save his people from their sins” – and that’s that. “That’s the tweet,” you might say, according to Matthew.

And then, some wise men show up, raise the ire of King Herod by tipping him off that this “king of the Jews” has been born, and before you know it, the first family is on the move again – on the run, suddenly – refugees to Egypt – so they can spare their son from the mass murder of children – infants and toddlers, two and under – in Joseph’s hometown. Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year!

So, in keeping with the theme…

Did you know that there’s a war going on over in Yemen that’s been raging for the last eight years? And did you know that tens of thousands of children have been orphaned there because of it? From what I can tell, the ugliness in Yemen is barely on our radar in the U.S. I suspect the reason that war doesn’t make the news, like the one in Ukraine does … the reason their president doesn’t get to speak in front of our congress … the reason their plight doesn’t make it into our consciousness is two-fold. First, because they are brown and because Yemen is the poorest country in the Middle East. And second, because smarter people than me call it all a proxy war between Saudi Arabia and Iran. We like the oil we get from Saudi Arabia and don’t want to have to pay too much for it. Anyway, all of that is another story.

Some call what’s happening in Yemen the worst humanitarian crisis in the world and it’s been going on since 2015. And it made me think of Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents” because in addition to all those orphans the war has created, 10,000 children have been killed or maimed, and up to two million more have been displaced – just like Jesus – since it all began.

Merry Christmas.

And did you know there were more mass shootings than there were days in 2022? (Almost twice as many mass shootings as there were days, according to one source I saw.) And did you know that this has been a true statistic every year since 2019? But, I digress. It’s Christmas and our theme today is children.

Last year, just in the United States, 3,597 children died by gunfire, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Nearly two-thirds of gun deaths involving children — 2,279 — were homicides, which have increased by more than 73%, just since 2018. Most of these involved Black children, even though they are a numerical minority in our country. Last year, suicides made up almost 30% of gun deaths among kids, to the tune of 1,078. Unlike homicides, it’s white kids – mostly white, teenage boys – who die by suicide using guns, but that’s growing among Black and Hispanic kids, too.

One last thing. The United States is the only country among our peers – which means, supposedly, that we are “advanced” in terms of industry, technology, standard of living, and what not – we are the only country among such leading nations where gun violence is the number one cause of death among kids. In other countries like ours, kids are more likely to die from car accidents and cancer/diseases.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 kids under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In Australia, there were 10.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 children under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In the UK, there were 8.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 boys and girls under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In Japan, there were 5.

Merry Christmas.

But, to bring this back to something more closely related to Mary and Joseph and Jesus, on the run, remember, from Herod in Bethlehem to safety in Egypt, it’s interesting to know that nearly 130,000 migrant children entered our own government's shelter system in 2022, which was an all-time high thanks to a record number of minors who show up unaccompanied – alone – by themselves – without a parent or a protector or a guardian to claim them. That’s 8,000 more than last year – and a statistic that’s more than two months old already. Can you imagine how desperate and dangerous things much be for a child to be sent or taken to or left in a foreign land, without a parent, protector, or guardian to claim them? I know kids who won’t go to summer camp on their own or children who won’t spend the night at a friend’s house.

Merry Christmas.

We are generations away from Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents,” but all of this is why Matthew invokes Rachel as part of his version of the Christmas story. She weeps for the children – her own and for others, and for ours, I imagine, too.

See, when Matthew, by way of the prophet Jeremiah, invokes the notion of Rachel, weeping for her children, he was referring to the people of Israel being banished to exile and captivity in Babylon, and having to pass by the grave of Rachel, one of their matriarchs, whose grief cried out from the ground on which they traveled. That was the weeping and loud lamentation they heard at Ramah.

While God promised them hope and deliverance and salvation, in the end, much like the Good News of Christmas means to be for us now, Rachel was the mother who wouldn’t let the people forget about the children – her children, their own children, or any of God’s children for that matter. Rachel’s tears were the rain on their parade.

And I think we’re supposed to listen to Rachel, still, as we hear this hard, holy story about Herod’s slaughter of the innocents and see it happening among us, still, in so many scary, shameful, sinful ways.

Rachel is every mother weeping for her children, even while living with hope for what has come – and for what is coming – in Jesus.

Rachel is every father weeping for his children, even while searching for the joy that has been born – and that will be born again – in Jesus.

Rachel is every parent – and she would/could/should be all of us, together – weeping and wailing and refusing to let our own comfort and joy, our own silent nights, our own peace and prosperity allow us to neglect the reason for Christ’s coming, in the first place…

To bring good news of great joy to ALL people…

To save God’s people from our sins…

To shine light into the darkness in a way that the darkness cannot, has not, will not … ever … overcome it.

Amen. Merry Christmas.

John the Baptist and Scary Santa

John the Baptist and Scary Santa

Pastor Mark Havel

Matthew 11:2-11

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one else has arisen greater than John the Baptist; and yet, the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

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I came across this picture on Lisa Fox’s Facebook feed this week. It turned out to be pretty good fodder and inspiration about what we see and hear – and have often heard about – today’s Gospel story and John the Baptist. The girls are six or seven years older now, than they were in this picture, but they’re still not big enough kick my butt. And I got grandma’s permission to show you all, so I’ll send the girls her way if they get mad.

And, just to spread the wealth, I dug up one of my own. These two are big enough to kick my butt, these days, but I decided to take my chances with forgiveness rather than permission in their case.

What’s true for so many kids – as it was for me a million years ago – is that strangers in red suits are scary. And, these pictures along with a couple of conversations I had this week, had me thinking differently about what’s going on with John the Baptist and Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. [Sreen]

Most of us have heard of “Doubting Thomas,” right? …the disciple who, after the resurrection, wouldn’t believe – couldn’t believe – Jesus had been raised from the dead until he could see for himself the holes in his hands and touch the scars on his sides?

Well, today, we hear about a different kind of doubter in John the Baptist. John the Baptist, the one who came before Jesus to pave the way… John the Baptist, the one who last week baptized with water and promised that one was coming, in Jesus, who would baptize with fire and the Holy Spirit… John the Baptist, the one who sits in prison in this morning’s gospel because he’s been so outspoken and so faithful about his calling to prepare the world for Jesus…

This week, we hear even John the Baptist had some doubts – or at least some questions – or at least wondered a bit – about who this Jesus really was, and if he was all he seemed cracked up to be.

But, John’s doubts and questions aren’t that much of a surprise when you consider all that he’d been expecting. He’d been associating Jesus’ coming with a terrible day of judgment. John had been preaching and promising things like “Holy Spirits”,” “winnowing forks,” “threshing floors” and “unquenchable fires,” remember.

John seems to have envisioned a Messiah of wrath who would make sinners pay, and pay dearly, for their sins. And the picture John the Baptist paints, is a coming reign of God that seems filled with a sense of terror and fear and judgement and doom.

And there’s a lot of that still around us in the world.

I had a conversation with some pastors, just the other day, who were bemoaning some children’s sermons they’d heard that taught kids to behave, or else; to be good, or else; to have faith, or else. Basically, sermons that sounded like they were more about Santa Claus than about Jesus.

And I was talking with a new friend this week, too, about his different experiences in different churches. And we were lamenting how so many – too many Christian communities of faith – seem to stake their identity and find their purpose based on who they keep out. Of course, there’s the LGBTQ+ factor. And there are still as many churches as not who refuse to allow women in the pulpit or outsiders at the communion table. And, I don’t remember all of the details, but my new friend told me about a woman he knew who wasn’t welcome in her family’s church because she’d been divorced a couple of times and had too many children with too many different dads. (I know, in my head that places like this exist, but it still surprises and saddens me to hear real-life examples of it.)

Anyway, this kind of doom, gloom, shame and separation … this sort of judgment and wrath and UN-grace … still rules so much of what the world hears about expects when they consider God’s coming in Jesus – just like it did for John the Baptist.

So, it’s no wonder more people – in our families, in our neighborhoods and in our world – will search for more meaning, comfort and hope in these days of Christmas in the trees and the trimmings and in the presents and the parties of the season. It’s no wonder that there are more people who will spend Christmas Eve waiting for Santa, than there will be people preparing Jesus. It’s no wonder there are more of God’s children wringing their hands over what may or may not show up under the Christmas tree, instead of celebrating what has already come – and will come again – in Jesus Christ.

And I’m frustrated and dismayed and sad about that, but I don't blame any one of them any more than I blame the children who are scared of meeting Santa at the mall.

We tell little kids that Santa is always watching … that they better not pout or cry … that they better be good for goodness’ sake … or else the strange, hairy man who lives up north … is going to hold it against them. And then we sit them on his lap – or on the lap of an imposter – and try to convince them that he’s jolly and good, sweet, nice and safe.

It all seems very much – too much – like what too many do – and maybe even what John the Baptist was doing with Jesus back in the day. Be good, or else. Behave, or else. Repent, or else. Remember all of those “winnowing forks,” “threshing floors” and “unquenchable fires” as part of his invitation to baptism? I would have run the other way, myself, I’m sure of it.

And I think, even though Jesus loves John the Baptist and holds him in very high regard, it’s why his command for John and his followers this morning is something altogether different. And I believe it’s our command, too. Jesus says, simply, “go and tell what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

In other words, “look at the good, lovely, gracious things I’ve been up to. Look at the forgiveness I’ve offered. Look at the healing I’ve accomplished. Look at the sinners I’ve loved. Look at the outsiders I’ve welcomed. Look at the hope I’ve delivered.”

If people could really see more and actually hear more of the good news of God’s activity among us – and if we, in the Church, would work more at embodying that story – they might know more of what God has done and means to do for them, just the same.

It makes me wonder if the way I live makes people really want to come and hear the story from me. I like to keep asking myself how our preaching and teaching at Cross of Grace can open doors so that people will want to come in and find out what’s so “good” about the news we share. I want to live like my Messiah – our Messiah – is one of good news for the poor, one who heals sick people, one who accepts and forgives those who we – or the world – would rather reject. I want to live and love the world in a way that will make people want to accept, rather than run away screaming from, the face of Jesus.

And I think if people can see it through me, and through you, too, then they'll be a lot more likely to want to come up close and meet this Jesus and sit on the lap of God’s grace and be part of the worship and learning and service we celebrate and share here week after week.

And that’s where our call comes in these waning days of Advent. The rest of the world, like John the Baptist, needs to know and to see and to feel more of what it is we wait for and hope in when it comes to Jesus Christ.

People need to see, by our actions, that we’re waiting for the one who calls people to give away their time and their hard work and their money – because we get to, not because we have to – to grow churches, to give gifts to kids that otherwise wouldn’t have any, and to provide food and clothes to people who otherwise would have none of it.

People need to know that our eyes have been opened to the truth about ourselves and about our God – that by the power of faith in God’s grace, prejudice and bigotry and discrimination of any kind have no place in our midst.

People need to hear, from our lips, how God’s promise of forgiveness and eternal life brings us out from under the crippling burdens of this world to walk with faith and to face each new day with hope, no matter what it holds.

People need to meet, in us, a Jesus who speaks of peace to a world at war, who offers food for those who are hungry, comfort for the hurting, homecoming for the lost, love for the lonely, and a wide welcome with no strings attached.

John seems to have expected something entirely different than what God delivered in Jesus Christ – or at least his words and ways weren’t as gracious as the hope he proclaimed. I believe too many in our world expect something entirely different, too, too much of the time – if they expect anything at all – in what God has offered in Jesus Christ. Our call is to take away the mystery and the misconception of that … to show and to tell our friends, families and neighbors what merciful, loving, life-giving things God has done, that God is doing, and that God will do, through the grace born for the sake of the world at Christmas.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.