Sermon - The Holy Innocents, preached by Canon Mark Oakley, Priest-in-Charge on

28 December 2008

Perhaps one of the most heart-wrenching sounds that this world knows is the cry of a mother over her dead child. More and more, of course, television cameras take us into homes that have lost a child or children to a violent death. We have seen clips of mothers too whose children are dying of hunger in parts of our world, cradling them but unable to do anything. One in 5 children in Africa today die due to dysentery or disease. Children can be abducted or sold into slavery, prostitution, armed gangs. They often die lost and largely forgotten. In the new biography of the Archbishop of Canterbury it is revealed that whilst he was a student a fellow student, a young woman, fell in love with him, and in the end committed suicide. Not a day goes by, says the archbishop, when I do not think about her - and her parents. You may have read about the Church of England priest, Julie Nicholson, whose 24 year old daughter Jenny was murdered in the 2005 London bombings. She faced her own heart and realised that she couldn't forgive the killers and so decided she must resign as the vicar of St Aidan's, Bristol, because, she said, she felt so damaged she was unable to lead her congregation and speak about forgiveness and reconciliation when she couldn't do it herself. Such honesty speaks of a good priest to my mind and I am pleased she now works as a chaplain to young people in Bristol. I shared Christmas lunch this year with friends whose son was recently killed in Iraq and beneath the party hats you know there is such a great deal of inexpressible pain. On our own streets as well today children can get shot whilst simply riding their bike in the wrong place and another mother's life changes for ever.

In the gospel today Matthew quoted 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.
Rachel is still weeping today

So who was this man Herod that 2000 years ago is said to have created such tortured agony to so many parents because he was angry he had been tricked by the magi and was insecure about the new born child Jesus? Well, those of you who remember Jesus Christ Superstar, he was not the camp singer dancer depicted there, even though he has the best line in one of his songs addressed to Jesus — show me that your no fool, walk across my swimming pool! Herod was in fact a brutal and somewhat paranoid ruler of Judea for 34 years, voted by the Roman senate, who backed him, as "King of the Jews". At one stage he married a teenager for political reasons and banished his wife Doris and their 3 year old son to do it. He expanded the Temple and built many great buildings as well as developing the water supplies for Jerusalem but for all that^ he was not loved. In fact, says the historian Josephus, when he was approaching death he realised that nobody would mourn him so he commanded that when he died several prominent people should be murdered straight away so that the people would actually grieve. Of course, it is true that we are more conscious of the faults of leaders and the famous - or as the Danish proverb puts it - the more the monkey climbs up the tree, the more you see of its bottom - but this man had a lot of faults and was not good but was ruthless and unstable.

Now as you know Christians often argue that Christ needs to be put back into Christmas. But it is also necessary to put the Herod back into Christmas, to save us from sentimentalising and coating in marshmallow and sparklers the hard fact that Christ was born into our world, not in a warm and cosy B and B, but in a cow shed and that before long the family were having to flee as refugees and innocent children and innocent parents were caught up in a tragedy we can hardly express. The ironies of the Gospel are clear: the saviour needing to be saved. God-with-us, fleeing for his life. This is not "away in a manger, no crying he makes" it is a long way away from the warm manger and the pretty nativity scene. This is bloody, human history and God is caught up in it, with us - not just in beauty and nice feelings, but in pain and death and injustice. God is not just there in our better sides, our better feelings, our kinder deeds. God is wrestling around in all of us, all the time, shadows and all.

What becomes clear is that those who follow this Christ have hard work on their hands. Once you have decided which kingdom you are part of, Herod's or God's, you must begin to live in it fully and work and speak and act to end the wrongs of a Herod rule. This will mean big courageous actions sometime, but mostly it will entail smaller unseen or even unnoticed acts - the decision not to say the clever, cruel thing; the time spent to help someone who can't pay you back; the principled commitment that decides to stand up instead of being indifferent or politely cow-towing. The Church has things to say, sermons to preach, hymns to sing and prayers to offer. Above all, it has a life to share and this is our task as we leave that crib into the unknown.

Our banner as we take on Herod has been written by Archbishop Tutu, a man who knows that Herods lurk in every Christmas, in every nation, in every heart:

We give thanks to God, he writes, that goodness is stronger than evil, love is stronger than hate, light is stronger than darkness and life is stronger than death-that victory is ours through Jesus Christ. Might will never be right. God has made us for goodness, for love, for compassion, for peace, for laughter, for gentleness, for sharing -and God is in charge."