Going to God

Going to God

By Another Road

When to display the wisemen?

I love how families have various traditions with their nativity scenes.

  • Some folks display all the characters right away.
  • Some folks don’t place Jesus in the manger until Christmas Eve.
  • Days after many people have packed up Christmas, some folks wait until January 6 to put out their magi. Which, scholars tell us, is more biblically accurate because they would have arrived long after the shepherds had come and gone.

Herod, the missing figure in our nativity sets.

But the character that never comes out is mean old Herod.

Just as well. Who wants to be reminded of that tyrant when we are singing about peace on earth and goodwill towards all?

It wasn’t my idea to ruin the Christmas story by inserting Herod into the narrative. It was Matthew’s idea. I chose to save you from it on Christmas Eve, but the story isn’t complete without reckoning with the dark side of Christmas.

So, who was this bad guy? From historians outside the Bible, like Josephus, a first-century Jewish/Roman,  we know that the Roman Emperor crowned him king to rule over the Judeans on his behalf. He was an impetuous narcissist, insecure, and tolerated no threats to his reign. He bestowed on himself the title, “Herod the Great.”  You know, the kind of leader lots of people seem to want.

He even murdered family members, including three of his own children, to preserve power. He built tributes to himself, grand palaces all over, including the crown jewel, Herodium, which could be seen from Bethlehem as it was only a few miles away. A little palace in the sight of your nativity could be an interesting addition.

From our Bible story, we learn that he faked being religious and was a liar, telling the magi to let him know where they found the newborn king so he could also pay him homage.

Take other roads.

A dream sends the magi home by another road. And another dream sends Joseph, Mary, and Jesus running under the cover of darkness. The Holy Family became refugees fleeing to another country because of political violence. That fact alone ought to give us pause, shape our thinking,  and soften our hearts for refugees in our community today.

But the magi and Joseph are not the only ones given this dream. We are called, too, to take charge and make serious decisions if we want to keep our hope alive instead of letting Herod destroy it.

The great cry that echoes to this day.

Herod, realizing he has been duped, erupts. He orders the execution of children in the region who are two years old or younger. Matthew’s Jewish readers would have made the connection. Herod is like Pharaoh (who made a similar order), and Jesus is like Moses (who escaped death).

Matthew reaches back into Israel’s memory for language to mark the horror. Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be consoled. There is a great cry.

We hear echoes of that cry whenever children are harmed. When a school shooting leaves small desks empty. When bombs crush apartment buildings during bedtime stories, Rachael weeps with us.

The gospel does not gloss over this reality of the way the world works. It does not explain it away or keep it out of sight, pretending that it doesn’t exist, that faith makes everything unicorns and rainbows. Instead, the gospel asks us to tell the truth. It asks us to lament. It asks us to refuse the normalization of the unbearable.

It asks us to take another road.

Not the one that leads to the stuff of Herod, but the one that leads to the flourishing of all people.

We call the magi “wisemen.” Maybe their wisdom is to disobey Herod and not be party to his schemes to harm. Hope is clandestine or whispered resistance: small acts of sheltering, protesting, feeding, organizing, and telling the truth that Herod’s self-serving, cruel vision is not ultimate.

The story is that Herod came and went. Jesus lives. His truth is marching on—glory, glory hallelujah. Herods come and go. But every time, there was resistance. People keep living, loving, and protecting one another, refusing to surrender through stubborn love that keeps creating refuge, resistance, and new life in Herod’s shadow.

Choose another road than the one so frequently travelled. Choose another road with your attention, your speech, your habits.

So, rehearse compassion on purpose. One daily practice of tenderness. Bless someone each day. Pray one honest sentence: God of mercy, keep my heart from hardening. Do one small act of repair. A note. A call. An apology. A meal. A visit. Small mercies practiced daily become strong mercies over time.