There is a story in the birth narrative of Jesus that we seldom tell. It doesn't fit well with "Silent Night, Holy Night," nor does it tell well when our sugar-plummed neighbors are dreaming of presents under the tree. We have, after all, done everything we can to clean up the manger scene with angels and magi, and cute little children playing the roles of Joseph and Mary.
Still, this might be the year to tell the story that we find in Matthew 2.
Not long after Jesus was born, Joseph had a dream that Herod would come to kill the child. So, Joseph and Mary gathered up the new-born son and headed south into Egypt. They wanted to protect him from the dangers of this world.
Just as the dream had predicted, King Herod became angry that he had been tricked by the Magi, so he sent his troops into the area surrounding Bethlehem. They went house to house, we assume, and they killed every child who was less than two years of age. Then we are told that a voice was heard in Ramah. It was not the voice of angels. It was not the report of shepherds declaring glad tidings. Rather, it was wailing and loud weeping. Every household had been touched by the deaths of their children, grandchildren, nephews and nieces, or neighbors. Across the land, the people refused to be consoled because their children were no more.
The people of Newtown, Connecticut, know the words to this story this Christmas. They have been teaching it to us as we watch their pain and translate it to our own families. The Biblical story leaves many unanswered questions: Why did God save Jesus, but not the other children? Couldn't God have stopped the evil king from his wicked ways? Why didn't God come in a dream to all the other fathers in Bethlehem? Was it really necessary for all those children to die just to give life to Jesus? Similarly, there are many unanswered questions in Newtown today, and they have a familiar ring to them.
So, we are left to tell our people that "Good news of great joy for all the people" is not as simple as it first sounds. It gets messy when God seeks to enter into the world we claim as our own. Evil does not give up its position of power easily. Even those of us who are Christian prefer to think that the little lord Jesus lays down his sweet head without crying. We want to hear of the easily converted shepherds rather than the death-dealing king.
Yet, reality visited us this year. The story that is for everyone is not well-received by many. Our task, it seems, is to protect the story of the Messiah so that it is not slain by temporary acts of evil. Whether we carry it to Egypt to protect it, or we shout it from the mountain-tops so that everyone can hear it, we are the keepers of the story that finally is the hope of the world. We know it isn't simple or naïve. Not everyone will accept it, and some will rail against it. Still, we dare to say, Come, Lord Jesus, come.
