1st Sunday of Christmas or The Holy Innocents

1st Sunday of Christmas: Isaiah 7-9; Psalm 148 (148.7-10); Hebrews 2.10-end; Matthew 2.13-end

The Holy Innocents: Jeremiah 31.15-17; Psalm 124; 1 Corinthians 1.26-29; Matthew 2.13-18

THERE are two decisions for the principal service on at the present time: the First Sunday of Christmas or the Holy Innocents. Both have the identical gospel story, Herod’s massacre of male children in Bethlehem, with its echoes of Moses; however the longer version features a detail about Jesus which puzzles commentators mightily.

Did some prophet — known to Matthew, but lost to us — say, “He shall be called a Nazoraius,” meaning “man from Nazareth”, maybe even inventing the prophecy to elucidate how Jesus was born in Bethlehem but got here from Nazareth? Here (but nowhere else), Matthew cites a prophecy by “the prophets” (plural). Perhaps that is an echo of a practice about Jesus which faded from history as spoken words gave strategy to written words.

I feel the language experts who argue that Nazoraius can’t be derived from “Nazareth”. I also consider them after they argue that Nazoraius is a possible way for Greek to say “Nazirite”. I believe of spiritual groups corresponding to the Pharisees (“separated ones”), Sadducees (“righteous ones”), and Essenes (“doers” of the law); for Nazirites means “consecrated ones”. The same way of naming a spiritual group after its core tenet exists in modern churches: “Baptists”, “Pentecostals”, “Congregationalists”.

Perhaps probably the most famous Nazirite in Jewish history was Samson (Judges 13-16). He was a miracle baby, but more akin to John than Jesus; for his mother had been— within the language of former times — barren. “Barren” is an unpleasant, insensitive word. I even have never forgotten an old family friend sobbing on my shoulder after her husband left her for somebody younger, and crying, “I’m only a barren old woman.” There was nothing I could say to comfort her double bereavement: her lack of each marriage and motherhood.

Samson the Nazirite seems to make an odd pairing with Jesus, especially at Christmas. His famous physical prowess and daring character don’t make us consider the adult Jesus, “the carpenter, the son of Mary” (Mark 6.3), and still less of the babe lying in a manger. Nazirites were set apart for God, with restrictions on their mode of life, corresponding to not cutting their hair or drinking “wine or strong drink” (Numbers 6.3-6). We have no idea whether Jesus followed such rules.

One significant statement, though, binds the 2 together. They are each saviours of their people. An angel of the Lord tells how Samson will begin to avoid wasting Israel from the hand of the Philistines (Judges 13.5). Centuries later, an angel reveals that Jesus goes to finish that work; for he “will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1.21). Samson’s way was the “natural” way: might is true. Jesus’s way is the brand new way — a greater way, a way that may survive every physical challenge and spiritual threat. Jesus’s way is the best way of risk and vulnerability, the best way that overcomes might with right.

What is improper with Herod’s massacre of the innocents? Morally, the query needs no answer. But it’s also improper from a practical viewpoint; for it cannot achieve its objective. The best example within the Bible that I can consider through which an event is prophesied but doesn’t come to pass is in Jonah, when God decides to not destroy Nineveh. And Jonah’s response shows that God, by changing his mind, has broken the principles of how prophecy is speculated to work. Herod has been told (Matthew 2.6) of a prophecy that a baby shall turn into king. Naturally, he feels threatened. And, like all tyrants, by in search of to eliminate threats, he attracts the downfall (a gruesome disease and death) that he seeks to avert.

Think of Oedipus, Romulus and Remus, Macbeth: those that attempt to cheat prophecy fail. Herod fails; for God’s will is just not to be subverted. Sometimes, prophecy is about big historical events, but at the present time keeps the concentrate on individuals and families. As for the youngsters, for Herod they were a method to an end, whereas for the families every death was a tragedy.

When Matthew refers to a prophecy of Jeremiah (verse 18), newer translations say that Rachel wept for her children who “are not any more”. Older translations are closer to the Greek: “who should not”. Both the death of a baby and the not-being-born of a baby are personal tragedies. There need be no wider meaning in either, but in each we are able to trust the Christ-child to speak meaning and luxury.