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February 08, 2006

Lament for Rachel's children

I heard Ray Bakke speak at this consultation thing a week and a half ago, and he said something that struck me at the time and has followed me around ever since: “A whole village of baby boys died for Jesus before Jesus died for anyone.”

The massacre of the infants is the part of the story of Jesus’ birth that doesn’t generally make the pageants or the Christmas service, probably because it’s hard to know where to fit a genocidal despot into the whole star/angels/shepherds/Joy to the World scenario. I haven’t thought a lot about it before, but Bakke’s statement has been rolling around in my head and I got this e-mail asking me questions I don’t know how to answer for me or for anyone else, and it motivated me to take another look.

If you’re not familiar with the story, it’s in Matthew chapter two: (NRSV)

12 And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, [the wise men] left for their own country by another road. 13 Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child [Jesus] and his mother and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him. 14 Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt 15 and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.” 16 When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned form the wise men. 17 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: 18 ‘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.’


If Rachel were to be given a speaking part, I think she might say this, “You were supposed to bring salvation, but instead the innocent suffer and the evil use Your name to protect themselves and abuse their power, and I have to ask, ‘How could You? How could You let this happen? How could you let them do this?’

“Angels told the shepherds not to be afraid, but you didn’t send anyone to tell us that scared is exactly what we should be. Am I supposed to go to You for comfort when You are the reason there are bodies in the street, the reason that mothers can’t get out of bed and fathers sit and stare at the walls? I weep for all those children who will not be resurrected, who also could not afford a tomb. You warned the wise men and your Son, but you didn’t warn me. What, there weren’t enough dreams to go around? Or You just decided not to bother? Is it because we are just villagers and children, and the world will get along just fine without us? “

“You should have left us the myrhh and frankincense for us to bury our own children, and you should have left the gold so we could pay to put them in the grave. You say you sent your Son to save us, but my son is dead, while Yours is still alive. And I don’t know if there’s enough blood in His veins to make up for what has been spilled in His name.”

Rachel weeps…for a gospel engraved on the point of a sword and the bullet of a gun, for the Crusades and Conquistadores, for northern Ireland and the Inquisition, for slavery and genocide.

Rachel weeps…for every woman told to sit in silence, told not to raise her hand because Jesus only calls on the boys, told that God is male, that only half the human race has stories worth remembering.

Rachel weeps…for every sign that says “God hates fags.”, for being blamed for everything from AIDS to hurricanes to terrorists, for having to be contested territory in the culture wars instead of a child of God.

Rachel weeps…for the most segregated hour of the week at 11 am on Sunday, for burning crosses, and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jesus.

Rachel weeps...for what happens in dark houses with crosses on the wall, for all the children on the beat down end of the will of God, for all the preachers leaving bruises on their wives and children

Rachel weeps…for all the priests discreetly transferred, for women told to pray, forgive and submit those broken bones away, and the other thousand thousand thousand times the religious powers that be chose the image of an institution over the image of God.

She cries her eyes dry – even if no one else does. She weeps and she will not be consoled and she asks with you, “How could You? How could You let this happen? How could You let them do this?”

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Comments

these are the things that rock my faith. why did the line of christ have to come through david and bathsheba? why did uriah have to die so that jesus could be born? why wasn't abigail's line the one who carried on the lineage of david?

why couldn't things have happened differently? it makes no sense to me - and if all of these things had to happen this way why is the record of them so inadequate to explain these things?

it is only peter's reply to jesus in john 6 that keeps me from bolting... where else would i turn? to whom should i go? how do we make sense of all of this confusion and pain???

this is beautiful christy, the lament of rachel's tears holds some comfort to me somehow. thank you.

Doesn't make it much into pageants, no, but some (especially older) carols, yes. One version of The Coventry Carol, for example, is found at http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/coventry_carol-1.htm

Thanks, Christy, for your posts.

Christy,

Rachel Barenblat wrote on the Exodus from a similar perspective--that of listening to the voices the stories don't let speak--at Radical Torah (Seeking Compassion--if the hyperlink doesn't work, it's here:http://www.radicaltorah.org/?p=18).

Wow.
What a way to communicate the tension WITHOUT RESOLVING IT. I know that you would LIKE to resolve it. I'd like to resolve it. We probably both (along with, I'm sure, an innumerable mass of humanity) want God to resolve it. But I think (and I could be wrong) that it becomes problematic when some in Christianity attempt to "resolve" the tension by either ignoring it or harmonizing it with some "grand spiritual plan"...or perhaps...perhaps even using it to postulate the limitations of God's power because of the existence of situations like the ones you have described. Again, I could be wrong, but it sometimes seems that these attempts at resolutions tend to diminish the magnitude of tragic, heartbreaking situations.
My comment IS NOT meant to favor or disprove a certain theology or denomination or ANYTHING like that. All I'm saying is that your post communicates the gravity, and import, and great weight of the tragedy of these situations, which you do not attempt to "explain away" by resolving the age-old tension.
I'm sure I didn't explain myself too well here...sorry about that.
Really, all I can say is...wow...what a post. I mean...wow.

I did not realize the level of pain and anguish you were feeling until this post. I hope that someday you can get through your pain and come to terms with God and those who have caused you so much pain.

i wrote a poem about this... can i be so arrogant as to put a link?
the redemption for me has been not succumbing to the temptation to try to justify the story, or justify god, or the gospel writer... but purely from trying to identify with rachel... because, as you say so beautifully, her story is repeated through history

http://alternative.victas.uca.org.au/?p=97

Your post, in conjunction with the comment by "c," are together what I’m responding to. Your post does bring into focus the unresolved tension into my own life with God, and that's frustrating to me, because I can get THERE all by myself. Despair and agony are what I feel without God, and I wish I were WITH God. I don't think it's just that I want someone to explain away pain and devastation so I don't have to think about it and I can go to church and sing happy songs and go home and watch TV. It's not about escaping discomfort or avoiding the sheer confusion that comes with being human. It's about wishing I had the connection with God that is supposed to bring WHATEVER it is that’s SUPPOSED makes it possible to hope and be peaceful WHILE I'm in confused agony.

I hope you will understand what I'm saying when I say that writings like this particular post of yours are every bit as frustrating to me as the types of writings that are happy-happy-joy-joy through and through. Those other types of writings SEEM irreconcilable with my reality. And the "Lament for Rachel’s Children," on the other hand, SEEMS irreconcilable with the life of faith I covet. Neither are satisfying--both deepen the despair. (And I DO realize that it is exactly that tension you are highlighting here, and that's fine and I’m sure it’s useful to many--I'm just telling you how I feel in response to it. And perhaps exploring why I can't honestly respond with the appreciation that others expressed in their responses to you.)

I'm rambling here, but I'm already where Rachel is--anger and despair. I just wish someone could point me out of despair and into something resembling hope--or even faith. Rachel's response is what we are born to. It’s what I HAVE. Mary's response ("May it be to me as you have said.")--or Abraham sacrificing Isaac or Stephen sacrificing his own life--is what is seemingly unattainable--but I WANT it. Delusions of grandeur, I guess? A pathetic desire to find meaning where there is none?

I want 1 Corinthians 4:7-18. But I only EITHER get a description of what I want but don't have--e.g., the all-surpassing power of God, Jesus’ life at work in me, renewal day-by-day, the perspective that all this horror is REALLY, TRULY “light and momentary”, yada, yada, yada—OR I get a description of what I have and don’t want—e.g., death at work in me, losing heart, wasting away, destruction, abandonment, etc., etc., etc.. BOTH are just a reminder of what I don’t have.

Bobbie - Glad you liked it. I thought it might resonate.

Ruth, Soen Joon & Cheryl - Thanks for the links. I liked what Rachel at Radical Torah had to say, and Cheryl, I liked your poem too.

Phil - You worry about me, don't you? I'm actually okay - albeit in a still have a lot of painful shit to work out kind of way.

c- your e-mail partially inspired this post, but you probably already knew that.

Susan -
As with most of my blog posts, I wrote this because it's what I needed to write, which means it may not be what everybody needs to read. I think that we don't have enough lament in Christian ritual or enough public acknowledgement of the dark side of Christianity, and I think lament can be a path to God - at least it is for me. The past couple years of my life have been a lot of lament and grieving. It's a death and resurrection process - if I don't really sink down into all my wounds and bring them into the light, then they will not be healed and I won't experience the resurrection of hope. But the death part is really death, and I have to be really able to recognize that yes, it really was that bad, without trying to fix it or explain it away, and that I really am powerless to make it better.
I don't have the faintest clue what your situation is right now, so if that doesn't make sense or doesn't help, then ignore it completely.
I hope you find what you are looking for.


a life of faith is not a promise of having *satisfying* answers, or *satisfying* feelings. anyone who makes the decision to live a life of faith, or dedicates themselves to spiritual practice, will indeed find that life to be fraught with paradox, and unanswerable questions. in other words, in the walk of faith, we find ourselves face to face with *the [our] human condition* with no way out of facing it, and feeling it.
living a spiritual life is a paradox, in that it can be a soft place to fall, but is also the place of infinite anguish.
why doesn't God just fix it all? i guess because God works in and through people, but can only do so when asked to, when surrendered to ( 'be it unto me according to thy word').
so people need to grow up, get wisdom, allow God to work in them, be willing to learn how to deal with problems in other ways besides putting bullets and knives into each other.
but i can't make people do that, can i? so i can only let God work in *me*. and there's the rub, because that is where i find the no-woman's-land of all my secret resistance to complete surrender, and all my rebellion against the very God whom i plead with to take away my suffering, and the suffering of the world.

All interesting thoughts regarding “theodicy” (reconciliation of good and evile in regards to God) but I think when we hyper-analyze the issue of suffering we will have tendency to miss the vast import of the great sweep of redemptive history that is blowing through this pericope (text portion).

Note that the overarching story is replication and fulfillment of the OT story.

To begin with, the story is sometime after the birth narrative and is thus, not really the Christmas story. We also have Herod, an Idumean or descendent of Esau, claiming to be “king of the Jews” and attempting to usurp the throne from the true king of the Jews, Jesus (Jacob). So the “king of the Jews” is attempting to kill the true king (David and Moses all wrapped up in one) and chases him down to Egypt. Bitter irony indeed! The “king of the Jews”, rather than rejoicing in the arrival of Messiah, plays the role of Pharaoh and attempts to kill Jesus (the new Moses).

Next, we have Jesus leaving Bethlehem or Bet-Lachem (House of Bread or Food in Hebrew). The only time in Jewish history that God’s people leave the Promised land for Egypt is in times of famine (Abraham and Jacob). But here, in a time of apparent plenty, we have the Messiah chased from the land (in particular the house of food) to Egypt by the “king of the Jews.” More irony and a sign that there is, in fact, famine in the land, spiritual famine.

Finally, and this is extremely important, Rachel’s weeping must be taken in context. The prophecy is drawn from Jeremiah 31:15-17. In that pericope we find a reference to Ramah, the final destination of the Jewish captives before they shipped out to Babylonian captivity. This is the import of this horrid suffering and the murder of the children. Israel is still under the grips of an evil king and though she is “in the land” she is still in exile awaiting the coming of the king of righteousness. Note that the periscope ends (verses 22-23) with the death of Herod and Matthew’s notation that prophecy must be fulfilled.

Matthew is telling his audience, “All this suffering was not for nothing. Prophecy must be fulfilled. Messiah is back and he’s going to set everything, everything right.”

Lord bless.

Garrett -

Very well-researched seminary answer, but I don't think that the parents of dead children felt the "great sweep of remdemptive history blowing through" when soldiers came and killed their babies.

And there are a lot of people who DON"T feel that "Messiah has set everything, everything right". Rather, it seems that the name of Jesus is used to hurt and destroy, rather than heal. For many people, Christianity is their source of greatest pain, not hope.

Intellectual musings about theodicy mean nothing when it's your child that's dead.

That's the point. The story is going somewhere. To a worn "tree" stained with blood from the Messiah who is and will set all things right. Questioning why God didn't stop the murder of the innocents rather than seeing that things are not right in the world is to attempt to alleviate our responsibility in the equation and lay the blame at God's feet. I would urge anyone to be careful when we say things like: “A whole village of baby boys died for Jesus before Jesus died for anyone.” It fails to take into account the fact that God emptied himself and came in squalor to set things right before any of this occurred. Don't forget that the baby who is forced out of his hometown is the God who spoke the universe into existence. His Father knows he is sending his son to a horific and ignominious death before Herod commits these acts. My theology also allows me to believe that these little children are now reclining with King Jesus in splendor and peace while Herod is receiving eternal judgmemt. I personally, find comfort in this.

Pax

Sorry to ramble but it is well to remember that "Rachel" (Israel, the bride) is weeping because she is in bondage and not just because of this particular incident. Rachel, is in reality, us. She weeps at her powerlessness. But Jesus must grow and mature and in God's timing he will die upon a cross and be resurrected to the right hand of the Father. Seated now he is now reigning and is bringing all things into subjection to his righteous rule. That is where we must trust by the eye of faith. Things happen by God's timetable not ours and sometimes we get to see flashes of his Kingdom come (when the persecuting Roman Empire collapses or the Christian faith spreads like wildfire bringing hope to Sub-Saharan Africa). But often it is progressing quietly like wheat growing almost imperceptably in the field.

Christy,

I'm there with you. You had to know when posting this one, however, that the "Buck up little camper, God has a plan" crowd would eventually post. And for those of you who are going to retort, I'll just use the phrase my favorite priest, Father Mike, said to me when my wife and I lost our first child,"Sometimes God's plan really blows." Maybe it's because he's a military chaplain, I don't know.

Garrett/Anikisan -

What Philip said.

Phil -
If you ever meet Garrett, try not to hit him. I know you will never forget your daughter. Peace and continued healing to you and your wife.

Christy,

I apologize for getting the context wrong on your posting. I tried to piece the situation together before commenting by perusing your blog but obviously mis-interpreted it. I came in on an external link from Urban Onramps so it looked like straight up theological musings. It was not meant as "Buck up little camper, God has a plan." I have lost 3 family members in the last year myself.

Anikisan -
I'm not sure how you could read that lament and think it was abstract theological musings, but I will trust to your good intentions that that was how it read to you.

For future reference, I don't really do intellectual theological musings here, and anything I write about pain or suffering is not at all hypothetical.

I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of your family members. It sounds like it has been a difficult year for you as well.

Peace.

Great reminder of the tension that faith creates. Strangely nourishing, isn't it?

Manka -
I don't know if I'd call it "strangely nourishing.", really. I mostly find all of the shit that people do in the name of Jesus to be destructive and painful. That's the stuff that drives a lot of people away from God - or at least churches.
Some people, through the grace of God, manage to make it through all that with their faith. Some don't, and I find that very sad.

lU0Ub4 U cool ))

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