David Bahn – Reflections

Matthew 2:16-18

¹⁶When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. ¹⁷Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
 ¹⁸“A voice is heard in Ramah,
      weeping and great mourning,
   Rachel weeping for her children
      and refusing to be comforted,
   because they are no more.”

I’ve not wanted to write about this passage because it tells a story that is so inconsolable: mothers crying for children too soon taken. Their deaths too violent. Their tragedy too stark. I’ve not wanted to write about this but my current spiritual journey takes me here. Diane and I are reading through the Gospel of Matthew, section by section, a week at a time on each section. This week is the second half of Matthew 2.

I’ve not wanted to write about this particular part of Matthew 2 also because there is no comfort here. Only sadness. Only pain. Only loss. Rachael will not be comforted.

I’ve seen the ragged edge of this grief – up close and personal. First when my younger sister died nearly 40 years ago. We were all so very sad; but my mom more than any of the rest of us. Again perhaps a decade ago this unwelcome guest showed up – a toddler had drown in a family’s backyard pool. Everyone was hurt by this, but the mother more than the rest.

When we are faced with inconsolable losses – when death, defeat, disappointment, despair looms so large that we would rather ignore it than deal with the pain – we might actually find comfort in this story. Not the relative comfort of “well, at least it isn’t as bad as it was in Bethlehem” kind of comfort, but a deeper comfort that has to do with the story being in the Bible in the first place.

Matthew may not have wanted to write about this sad event in Bethlehem, but he did. And if we are to understand it fully, we must see it in light of the larger story. Herod was not trying to rid himself of those innocent children; he was trying to get rid of God. He may not have realized how futile his efforts were but they were futile nonetheless.

There is way more to this story than these tragic deaths. There is much more happening here than one child and his family escaping while others are taken and mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, neighbors, sisters and brothers grieve in disbelieving horror. There is a larger story of a God on a rescue mission who will stop at nothing in His battle with evil to conquer evil and death, not simply consider these deaths as collateral damage in the larger war.

I don’t know what special comfort or blessing is reserved in eternity for those who experience such loss, and who are treated with such cruelty. But I do know this: God promises to wipe every tear from the eyes of those who look in faith to Jesus. He promises life even in the face of death. And whenever we face such injustice we need look no further than the God who sacrificed His own Son for us for sympathy and an even deeper fellowship than the happy days of God’s favor.

I didn’t want to write about this story, but it is part of a larger story to which God invites us all to be a part. It is ultimately a story of virtue, life and salvation. It is a story of redemption, hope and comfort. It is a story God wants us to know, and by which the deeper parts of our souls will be nourished.