“Collateral damage” is injury inflicted on something other than an intended target. The term is typically used in war and military conflicts. It refers to the civilian casualties of innocent people who get caught up in the crossfire of the conflict. It has been said that this is the price of waging war . . . innocent lives ruined and killed.
One would not think that there would be “collateral damage” when it comes to the Christmas story. Yet here we are on the eighth day of the church’s liturgical season of Christmas, and we are confronted with “collateral damage”. This is not quite what one would expect about the Christmas story, but as we learned last week the Christmas story is more complicated and twisted than one would expect. During the season of Christmas, you would think that the faithful would be reflecting upon the beauty and grandeur of it all. After all, it is a beautiful story. But then the writer of the Gospel of Matthew hits us with another twist in the story that complicates life for those involved and those who happened to be unaware of what is even going on. The plot twists and turns away from the celebratory desires the faithful might have.
We learn of the “collateral damage”.
Nowhere else in the scriptures do we learn the details of this part of the Christmas story. No, it is only found in Matthew’s gospel. This morning the story picks up after the Magi have paid homage to the baby Jesus. They have left to return to their own homelands and to get as far away from King Herod as possible. Shortly after they have left Joseph is told by an angel to take his small family and hightail it to Egypt. He is to do this because King Herod plans on killing the child. Wasting no time Joseph, Mary, and Jesus immediately leave to take up residency in Egypt.
Of course, the writer tells us that this is done because it fulfills the prophecy: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, King Herod realizes that he has been tricked by the Magi . . . that they weren’t returning to share the location of the child. Not knowing which child is the one the prophets spoke of Herod decided there is only one way to rid himself of this threat—kill them all. Herod immediately issues a decree that all the male children two years and younger were to be killed. Surely a clean sweep would produce the desired results. Again, the writer tells us that this is as the prophets had said.
Eventually Herod dies. An angel again appears to Joseph and tells him it is safe to return home. As they are journeying back to Israel, Joseph learns that Herod’s son, Archelaus, was now the new king. Fearing him Joseph decides that it would be safer to take his family to Nazareth in Galilee and establish a home . . . of which the writer reminds us of is as the prophets spoke. That the “chosen one” would be called a Nazarene.
Thus ends the Christmas story as the Gospel of Matthew shares it. Its not quite the stuff of a Hallmark movie. This is not what we really want to focus on as we celebrate the Christmas season . . . and yet, there it is in black and white. There is no denying the mess and pain that take place. The frustration of it all. The “collateral damage”.
So many lives are touched and changed forever because of the jealousy and fear held by one person who believe he was losing everything—especially his power. Herod sets off a series of events that touch the lives of many and changes them forever.
First, there is Joseph, Mary, and the child. Instead of going home to be surrounded by family and friends . . . well, they become strangers in a strange land . . . people fleeing for refuge to live another day. This must have been upsetting to them all. Had to be frightening—it was scary. Had to feel crazy. But you do what you must do to keep your family safe, protected, and intact. Egypt was the goal until that day it was safe to return. These were the first victims of “collateral damage”.
Second, there were the innocent children . . . those boys who were two years old and under. There were their mothers and fathers, the siblings, the communities . . . all who loved these children. With Herod’s decree a generation of males was wiped out. The pain of it all was unbearable. There was nothing that would console the people of their loss. As the prophet Jeremiah said:
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
This too was “collateral damage”.
Then lastly, it is again the family of Jesus that is touched and uprooted once again. They are called to leave the land of Egypt and return home. But they cannot return home . . . it is not safe. So once again they move to a place that is not familiar . . . not home . . . and take up residency. They are called upon to start over one more time. It is not the way they had imagined . . . not the way it should be, but the way that it was. Again, it fulfills a prophecy.
There are lots of twists and turns to the Christmas story. It is a darker story than we allow ourselves to observe and celebrate. It is filled with pain and frustration . . . filled with broken dreams . . . broken hearts. There does not seen to a whole lot of “good news” in this version of Christmas as served up by the writer of the Gospel of Matthew. And yet, it is there for us in black and white . . . it has led us to where we are today . . . and, surprisingly, there is “good news”.
That “good news” is that despite it all . . . despite all the crud that happens . . . God is still there. God is still there beside us no matter what is thrown our way. And though it seems as if God is far off in those moments and times in life in which there seems to be no light . . . no hope . . . God is still with us. Loving us. Caring for us.
We all know that there is often more to a story than we are told or that we know. We all know that we do not share all the gory details of our lives . . . especially when life is kicking us in the teeth and making it hard to even get out of bed in the morning. We all know that all of us are good at putting our best sides out there for the public when inside . . . within our hearts . . . we are barely hanging on for dear life. We all know the “collateral damage” that touches our lives. None of us have been immune to “collateral damage” because we know that life happens . . . and life is not smooth sailing no matter how many times we have been sold that stuff.
Life is hard. In the hardness of life, we have all wondered where God in all of this is. Isn’t that what Joseph and Mary wondered as their lives were being turned upside down repeatedly? Isn’t that what those parents, families, and communities were wondering when their sons were ripped from their arms and put to death? Haven’t we all wondered? And in the end that is probably more a question about ourselves than it is about God.
God is always with us . . . always. We aren’t always with God.
The late Reverend William Sloane Coffin gave a eulogy for his son, Alex, who died tragically after a night on the town in which he accidentally drove his car off a darken road into the Boston Harbor. As with any parent who lost a child to death there was the question of “why?” Also, there were those who came with the “thoughts and prayers” . . . the pat answers when there really are no answers. And there was the wonder of where God was in all of this. Some told him that it was “God’s will”.
Reverend Coffin said that it wasn’t supposed to be that way. No parent should outlive a child. The future was lost. The present seemed dark. The grief unbearable. He stated:
For some reason, nothing so infuriates me as the incapacity of seemingly intelligent people to get it through their heads that God doesn’t go around this world with his fingers on triggers, his fists around knives, his hands on steering wheels. God is dead set against all unnatural deaths. And Christ spent an inordinate amount of time delivering people from paralysis, insanity, leprosy, and muteness. Which is not to say that there are no nature-caused deaths — I can think of many right here in this parish in the five years I’ve been here — deaths that are untimely and slow and pain-ridden, which for that reason raise unanswerable questions . . . But violent deaths, such as the one Alex died — to understand those is a piece of cake. As his younger brother put it simply, standing at the head of the casket at the Boston funeral, “You blew it, buddy. You blew it.” The one thing that should never be said when someone dies is “It is the will of God.” Never do we know enough to say that. My own consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex die; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.
We are the “collateral damage” that comes with living life. Life is tough. But we are not alone. God is with us . . . each step of the way. We are never alone. God’s grace and love surround us. It is what gets us through the night. Amen.
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