Feast of the Innocents
Written by Pastor Ryan Rindels
“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.” — Matthew 2:18
Many of you know that in Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and high Anglican churches, days are designated for feasting and fasting. Some are familiar, such as Lent, Pentecost, or the Feast of the Epiphany. Others feature saints and martyrs—famous as well as obscure—but most are centered on persons and events contained in the Bible.
When the Protestant Reformation began in the early 16th century, one of the first acts performed by the Swiss pastor Ulrich Zwingli (1484–1531) was abolition of the liturgical calendar. Rather than preach on the life of a saint, or a passage set by the Church, Zwingli began verse-by-verse exposition of the Bible every Sunday. He believed that explaining the meaning of Scripture would lead his congregants to put their trust in Christ, not invoke the saints to pray on their behalf, or despair of not attaining heroic spiritual feats.
While I believe Zwingli made the right decision, something was lost when Protestants dispensed with the liturgical calendar. The door was now open for Christians to orient their days and seasons by secular instead of spiritual occasions. For many American evangelical pastors today, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Thanksgiving etc. dictate what texts are preached. Granted, the Bible speaks of thankfulness and honoring parents and country. It makes most sense, however, that our spiritual lives are centered on the Bible’s own storyline. From this perspective, a Christian can best examine how culture relates to their faith.
In the Roman Catholic Church, December 28th marks the “Feast of the Holy Innocents,” a day which remembers the infants killed by Herod’s decree as recorded in Matthew’s Gospel. The biblical account, grievous in its own right, is particularly sinister as Satan’s attempt to kill Christ our savior instrumentally through Herod’s decree. For the children who died and their bereft mothers who suffered, the day is an occasion for sorrow. For believers who rejoice at God’s merciful deliverance of Jesus, there is celebration. Hence, a feast.
For evangelical churches across America, “sanctity of life Sunday” falls on the third week of January. My own initiation into the reality of abortion and of pro-life ministries came through our church publicly recognizing this tragedy. Little did I know that a feast day was devoted to the destruction of innocent boys.
Throughout history, children have suffered and died for circumstances outside their control. Only in the last half-century have millions of infants perished on account of the intentional, violent destruction of their bodies. Since the overruling of Roe earlier this summer, we have ample reason to celebrate and give thanks to God—even if the work is far from over.
King Herod’s vivid rage can hinder our consideration of what led him to kill Bethlehem’s infant boys: fear. And Herod’s fear of losing power was ultimately a question of happiness. “If I am not king, will I not be ruined?” Indeed, any rival who gained power would likely execute the former king. Herod would know, for he himself murdered family members he suspected of treason. As unpleasant as the thought may be, arguments in favor of abortion operate along the same as Herod’s, namely, “it’s either their life or mine.” But this is simply not true, neither is it of faith.
The first-century Judean leader failed to discern what kind of king Jesus was, that he didn’t come to destroy but to save. Herod would be given the opportunity to serve the true ruler in God’s kingdom, not as a mere puppet to Rome. Not only that, this Jesus was born to wipe away every sin committed on earth, even murder, as the Apostle Paul would testify (1 Timothy 1:13). As a popular Catholic radio host noted in a recent devotional, the promise of forgiveness is no less true for the women who’ve had abortions, the fathers who’ve been complicit, and for any other context where a life has been unjustly taken—even for a contrite Herod.
As a baby, Jesus was delivered from premature death so that in his atoning death, he might redeem, forgive and ultimately bring to life those once “dead in their sins and trespasses” (Ephesians 2:1). For this reason—as difficult as it is to comprehend—we can both feast and mourn.
