Innocence, Faithfulness, and the God Who Hears the Cry

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Lord, give us eyes to see and ears to hear, so that we can learn Your Word together as a family. We give you all the praise and honor and glory for it, in Jesus’ holy name. Amen.

Good morning, Encouragers. I pray y’all had a blessed and joyful Christmas Day. In the life of the Church, sunset on Christmas Eve ushers us into the season of Christmastide—the Twelve Days of Christmas—stretching from the Nativity to Epiphany Eve.

After the long weeks of Advent, when we watched and waited for our Lord’s coming, this season is meant to be marked by rejoicing as Bethlehem ushered in the life of Jesus Christ Himself, where the Word became flesh.

And yet, on this day, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the Church gently slows our celebration and asks us to listen as well as rejoice, to hold joy and sorrow together, and to hear the sound of weeping alongside the songs of praise.

The song of the angels still echoes in our ears. The child has been laid in the manger. The Light has entered the world. And yet, before we can fully settle into the joy of Christmas, the Church places before us one of the most difficult passages in all of Scripture: the slaughter of the Holy Innocents.

At first glance, it feels almost jarring and out of place. Why speak of violence and grief so soon after singing of peace on earth? Why interrupt the warmth of Christmas with the cries of mothers in Bethlehem?

The Church knows what it is doing, though. The world into which Christ was born was not peaceful. And the world into which Christ is born again—into our lives—is not peaceful either.

From the very beginning, Christ’s coming provokes resistance. Light exposes darkness. Truth unsettles power. And innocence, tragically, often suffers at the hands of fear.

I. A World Where Innocence Is Vulnerable

In today’s Gospel, King Herod responds to the news of Christ’s birth not with wonder, but with terror. He hears of a child born “King of the Jews,” and rather than rejoice, he schemes. Power feels threatened. Control feels fragile.

And so, Herod does what tyrants throughout history have always done: he strikes the innocent.

St. Matthew tells us that all the boys in Bethlehem, two years old and under, were killed. No names are given. No stories are told. They are only remembered for what was done to them.

They had no voice. No choice. No defense. And Matthew reaches deep into Israel’s memory to describe the grief: “A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.”

This depicts the rawness of heartache. Rachel does not accept easy answers. She does not receive shallow comfort. She weeps because something truly terrible has happened, and the Church does not rush past this sorrow. On this feast day, we are invited to sit with it.

II. Innocence Betrayed: From Joseph to Bethlehem

Our Old Testament lesson from Genesis 37 reminds us that the suffering of the innocent is not new.

Joseph, sent by his father to check on his brothers, is met with betrayal. They strip him of his robe, throw him into a pit, and conspire to erase him from their lives. He is innocent of wrongdoing but becomes the victim of jealousy and fear.

Joseph survives—but not without wounds. The children of Bethlehem do not. And yet, Scripture dares to hold these stories together. The word doesn’t try to explain suffering away, but to tell the truth: innocence has always been vulnerable in a fallen world.

From Joseph to Bethlehem…from Egypt to exile…from Rachel’s tears to our own…the Bible does not deny the cost of evil. It names it.

III. God Hears the Cry of the Innocent

And here we must be careful. We must not imagine that God is absent from this story. Nor should we imagine that God ordains such suffering.

The Collect for today does not ask us to explain the deaths of the innocent. Instead, it asks God to strengthen us by grace, to confound evil within us, and to form lives of faithfulness even unto death.

God is not the author of cruelty. God is the one who hears the cry.

Psalm 78 reminds us that God remembers. That He does not forget His covenant. That even when His people wander and fail, He remains attentive to suffering and faithful to His promises.

The cry of Rachel does not disappear into silence. It reaches the heart of God.

And that matters—because Christianity does not teach that suffering is meaningless. Nor does it teach that suffering is always explained. It teaches something far more difficult and far more hopeful:

God enters into suffering.

IV. God With Us—Even Here

The greatest scandal of Christianity is not that innocent children died in Bethlehem. The greatest scandal is that God allowed His own Son to enter a world where that could happen.

Jesus does not arrive in a protected, sanitized world. He arrives in danger. He arrives under threat. He arrives as a refugee, fleeing to Egypt under the cover of night.

From His earliest days, Christ is marked by vulnerability. And that has deep meaning for us. God does not stand at a distance from the suffering of the innocent. He draws near. He takes flesh. He knows fear, exile, and loss from the inside.

The God revealed in Christ Jesus is not a God who watches from above—but a God who walks among the brokenhearted.

V. The Innocent Redeemed

Our reading from Revelation 14 gives us a vision that does not erase suffering, but redeems it.

John sees the Lamb standing on Mount Zion—and with Him, those who belong to Him, those marked by faithfulness. They sing a song that only the redeemed can learn.

The Holy Innocents did not choose martyrdom. But the Church dares to believe that their lives are not lost to God. They are held. They are remembered. They are gathered into the mercy of the One who said, “Let the little children come unto me.” This, my friends, is resurrection hope.

VI. What Then Shall We Do?

So what does this mean for us today? It means we resist every form of cruelty that preys upon the powerless. It means we protect life where it is fragile. It means we refuse to grow numb to suffering. It means we live with innocency of life and constancy of faith, as our Collect prays.

And it means we trust—sometimes with trembling—that God will have the final word. Not Herod. Not violence. Not fear. Not death.

Conclusion: The Light Still Shines

The Feast of the Holy Innocents does not extinguish the Christmas light. It explains why light is necessary. The child born in Bethlehem came into a world that kills the innocent—and He came to redeem it.

The tears of Rachel still matter. The cry of the brokenhearted is still heard. And the Lamb who was slain now reigns.

Even here.

Even now.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.