IN MATTHEW’S GOSPEL, some wise men in the East see Jesus’s star and evidently interpret it as a sign of the birth of the promised King of Judah. They follow the star all the way to Jerusalem and ask where the newborn is. “We have come to worship him,” they say. Herod, King of the Jews, gets word of the magi’s inquiry. Privately, he is not pleased that there might be a new king around. He summons the men and asks them to find the child and report back, so that he, too, can come and worship him. There is fat chance of that happening. But the magi don’t know that. They continue on their mission, led by the star. And when they find Jesus, they indeed worship him, presenting gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. In a dream they are warned not to return to Herod. They heed the warning and find a way home that doesn’t go through Jerusalem. Whereupon Herod, angry that the men didn’t comply with his request, takes matters into his own hands. There’ll be no rivals for him. He orders the execution of all male infants in Bethlehem and the outlying districts, the point being to ensure the death of the baby Jesus. The evil deed is carried out. But Joseph and Mary, their baby in tow, already have escaped, destination Egypt. They don’t return until Herod’s death. Luke’s account of Jesus’s birth has country shepherds but not the wise men. Nor does it have Herod waiting evilly in the wings. Luke is more commonly read at Christmas time, and Christmas plays routinely follow Luke, sometimes substituting Matthew’s intriguing wise men for the plain country shepherds. The result is that Herod, and his palpable evil, doesn’t get much publicity. This is the first Christmas since September 11. And this year the events of that day draw me to Matthew’s account. We Americans have had to ponder Osama bin Laden’s hatred for us. Imagine an infant’s being so despised that a mass murder of newborns is ordered in the hope that the hated one is killed. Imagine, too, that this despised infant is indeed what the New Testament portrays him as, the Christ, the son of God, sent into this world on a mission of mercy, nothing else. Herod thirsting for blood–that is how things started for the one the Scripture calls the Prince of Peace. So they would continue. Herod, says the New International Dictionary of the Bible, was “emblematic of the hatred and opposition that would meet Jesus of Nazareth and work for his death.” That hatred and opposition involved what the Bible calls sin. Sin takes many forms, few so plainly evil as when hijacked airplanes are purposely crashed into buildings full of innocent people–or when infants are ordered massacred. Osama bin Laden and Herod may rank way out there on the scale of evil, but the message of the New Testament is that none but one has lived a perfect life. The exception is the God-man, Jesus. For more than a dozen centuries Christians have observed a season called “Advent,” which includes the four Sundays before Christmas. Advent, from the Latin, means coming, in context the coming of Christ into this world. The hymns sung at this time of year reflect that theme. For example, “O Come, O Come, Emanuel.” But what makes the coming of Christ compelling–and Christmas ultimately worth celebrating– is the life the infant Jesus lived, concluding in his crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. With the last, Jesus triumphed over sin and its ultimate consequence, death itself. Jesus had lived most of his life when he told his disciples in the upper room, “In this world, you will have trouble.” Trouble comes in all shapes and forms, and brutally, as Jesus would soon experience and as–two thousand years later–September 11 confirms. But here is what Jesus also told his disciples: “Take heart! I have overcome the world.” My church, like many others throughout the world, offers a midnight service on Christmas Eve. The lights, dim throughout the service, will be completely turned off at midnight. No one will be able to see. And then one candle will be lit, and it will light another, and this lighting of one candle by another will continue until light fully penetrates what only moments ago was total darkness. Silently, there will be this remembrance: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” Terry Eastland is publisher of The Weekly Standard.
