13Now 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.” 14Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt 15and 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.”
Matthew 2:13-20
16When 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 who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the magi. 17Then what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
18“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.”
19When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20“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.” 21Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling 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. 23There 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 Nazarene.”
My sermon from the First Sunday of Christmas (December 28, 2025) on Matthew 2:13-20.
*******
So as I hinted at during my children’s sermon, today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew isn’t what we might consider to be a Christmas story. This season is supposed to be about twinkling lights, presents, and losing ourselves in Hallmark movie marathons. But since the beginning of the early church, all of life – including the parts full of sorrow and grief – have been included in our worship. For at least 1500 years, Herod’s rage and Jesus living as a refugee in Egypt have been major feast days in the church’s calendar. The questions raised by this moment in Jesus’ young life weren’t seen as something to be pushed aside in favor of things that are jolly and bright. Rather, what this hard story revealed was a little bit of what Christmas is all about. And to help see that, we might want to recall some of the Christmas carols we’ve been binging this holiday season. Songs such as Feliz Navidad, O,Holy Night, and Joy to the World have a way of using music and poetry to stir our spirits and souls. Songs have a way of making us feel seen and known in gospel-centric ways. Some of the earliest pieces of writing we have in our Bible are songs sung by faith-filled people. And a carol that comes from Coventry, England is one that might have been on our personal playlists at home. “Coventry Carol” as it is known is an old song that was written for a Christmas pageant. We’re not quite sure when these pageants first started in the city but we know people were talking about them by the year 1392. In the 1530s, the pageant’s director and manager decided to write down a script for the pageant that included some of the recent changes he had made. The director, Robert Croo (or Crow), took what came before him and added to it by updating the language, tightening the writing, and enhancing how the story was staged. Within his manuscript was a scene that took place immediately after Joseph was warned by an angel to take his family to Egypt. Three women walk onto the stage and sing what sounds like a lullaby. The softness of the words and the tenderness of the music might bring us a sense of comfort and peace. Yet whatever we’re feeling is then quickly replaced by a sense of dread when we realize Herod the King, in all his raging, has charged his men of might to commit an atrocity. Rather than being a carol that lets Christmas be primarily a sentimental moment, it reminds us that when God’s love shows up, something radical begins.
And the radical thing we see is what love chooses to be. Rather than define oneself only through strength and might, God chose to be vulnerable and require others’ care. God came not with a sword and spear but with a willingness to embrace those we believe to be unworthy. That’s not usually how we – or our world – usually works. We tend to let our actions, deeds, and points of view center ourselves at the expense of everyone else. Life, grace, wealth, intelligence, goodness, power, might, and blessings are – in our mind – limited resources we hoard for ourselves. There’s only so much to go around and grabbing what we can is how we keep our fears, anxieties, and worries at bay. We don’t really believe that vulnerability, humility, and fragility makes humanity beautiful. And so God chooses to be who God always will be and becomes the human we refuse to be. Herod, in response, chooses to be himself too. But rather than embracing his vulnerability and lay claim to his humanity, Herod could only see God’s movement in the world as a threat to himself. Herod had, after all, backed the winning side in the Roman civil war and was rewarded by being made king over a large chunk of ancient Israel, Palestine, Syria, and Jordan. For over thirty years, he built cities, palaces, and turned the Holy Temple in Jerusalem into one of the largest religious complexes in the world. Herod had no problem using violence to keep hold of the life he built. And rather than going to bear witness to the life God put on, Herod ended the lives of so many others instead.
Now it’s at this point in the story when we get a song that, in its own way, feels like another scary lullaby. A word from the prophet Jeremiah invites us to look to Rachel who, in the book of Genesis, was the second wife of Jacob. But during the time of Jeremiah, Rachel was seen as a kind of matriarch for the entire Israelite people. When the Babylonians destroyed the city of Jerusalem in the year 586 BCE and sent its people into exile, the city of Ramah served as a staging ground before the community was led away to the Euphrates river. Six hundred years before Jesus was born, the children of Israel were consumed by an ancient empire. And when Jesus entered into the world, that old story of violence and suffering continued. We shouldn’t read Matthew’s citing of Jeremiah as a prophecy justifying what Herod did. The children around Bethlehem didn’t have to die to make Christmas come. Instead, the heartbreaking lullaby embodied in the Coventry Carol and expressed through Rachel’s weeping revealed why God’s love shows up in the first place. Rather than letting us be the ones who determine what our story might be, God came to change what our tomorrow would be. Our love of violence, anger, and self-centeredness will no longer be what defines us. And while we will continue to do what we can to hoard life as a way to secure our own future, Jesus comes to push us into a new reality where love, mercy, and forgiveness rule. Too often we let the weeping and lullabies of mothers become too much of our human story. But instead of letting that be our end, Jesus went through the end we create for ourselves and others. Rather than letting the taking of life be what being human is all about, Jesus pushes us to notice how we’re already part of so much more. In baptism and through faith, your life has been united with the life lived out in Jesus Christ. And if his mercy, love, and forgiveness are truly part of who you are, we then get to bring that kind of life to all children, mothers, fathers, guardians, and everyone in this world since – because of Christ – they truly are beloved children of God.
Amen.