Sermons

By: The Revd Robert Morley

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  • The Festival of The Holy Innocents

    King Herod knew he wasn’t a very popular king, indeed he knew that people would probably be celebrating when he died; so what he did, according to the Jewish historian Josephus, was to arrange for 2,000 noblemen, from the leading families in his Kingdom, to be crucified at the moment of his death – that way there would be mourning and not celebration at his funeral. That is the kind of man he was: he had three of his sons put to the sword, as well as his beloved wife Mariamne, suspecting them of plotting against him. The story we have heard this morning, of how Herod ordered the killing of all the children in Bethlehem after the Magi had not revealed the whereabouts of this Messiah-child, a potential rival, is alas! highly plausible.

       And so it was that the child Jesus began life as a refugee. His father took his wife Mary and the new-born Jesus down to Egypt. Have you ever wondered what happened to the expensive gifts the wise men brought – the gold, frankincense and myrrh? They were almost certainly sold to help them get to, or survive in Egypt.

      Matthew tells us no sentimental Christmas story: this is as far from jingle-bells and jolly Santa sleighing through the snow as you can get. The murder of the Holy Innocents is a part of the Christmas story that tends not to find its way into the commercials at this time of year. And yet alas, the Holy Innocents are suffering as much in 2025 – soon to be 2026 – as they did two thousand years ago: one only has to think of the children being stolen from their schools in Nigeria, the children of immigrants separated from their parents in the United States, or of the Ukrainian children deported to Russia. King Herods there are aplenty.

       But there are three aspects of Matthews narrative that offer hope.  The first is that the Holy Family – Joseph, Mary, and Jesus – survive. Indeed they do so as a result of divine protection and divine guidance. The way Matthew tells the story, interweaving the prophecies of Hosea, Jeremiah, and the prophets, and drawing parallels with the Moses story and how Moses survived a similar culling of the newborn, underlines God’s faithfulness to his people across the generations. Ultimately, the world’s Herods will not win, and the kingdoms of intimidation built on power and control are no match for divine providence. The fulfilment of additional Scriptures in these events emphasises that God’s plan was established long before Herod acted.

      Secondly, we have the figure of Joseph himself: a good man, determined to protect his family; a simple man, a man of few words who worked with his hands; he poor man, for they only afford the cheapest sacrifice when Jesus was presented at the Temple; and yet, as we heard last week, a righteous man, who not only stands by Mary, but follows the promptings of dream-directed faith. Joseph did not do extraordinary things, but rather by the constant practice of ordinary and common virtues, he attained that sanctity which elevates him above all the other saints. Joseph had the courage to protect Mary’s reputation as an unwed mother. He had the courage to raise Jesus as his own son. He had the courage to enter into a story he did not fully understand and to show up each day to provide for those in his care. And thank heavens there are many Josephs in the world, there are far more Josephs than Herods, there are, I know, several Josephs in this congregation: straightforward, loyal, hard-working people. May God protect them!

      But thirdly, today’s story tells us that Jesus himself begins life as a refugee, dependent on hospitality beyond his homeland. This challenges any idea of a distant or protected Messiah. God himself enters fully into human vulnerability, especially the experience of forced migration. May that offer comfort to those who are living far from the communities where they were born, who face hardship and discrimination. Jesus and his parents shared the same experience. May that bring us hope.
       Let me finish with a poem that says what I have been trying to say, and says it more concisely than I ever could. The title is ‘Refugee’, and it is by the Anglican priest and poet Malcolm Guite:

    We think of him as safe beneath a steeple,

    or cosy in a crib beside the font,

    but he is with a million displaced people

    on the long road of weariness and want.

    For even as we sing our final carol

    his family is up and on that road,

    fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,

    glancing behind and shouldering the load.

    Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower,

    Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,

    the lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,

    and death squads spread their curse across the world.

    But every Herod dies, and comes alone

    to stand before the Lamb upon the throne.

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