What I notice first about the massacre of the innocents is that here was the final sword-flash of a family feud which, for a thousand years or more, had aroused the blood-lust between two neighbor peoples. To us it may seem to be a far cry from Jacob to Jesus and from Esau to Herod, but to Obadiah and the other prophets who shared his vision the old quarrel over a birthright was eternal--it was revived in all the cruel wars that cursed successive generations; and, in essence, it was this very rivalry that provoked the first of several attempts to assassinate our Saviour. Before you dismiss as fanciful what follows, pay a visit to a modern synagogue and there learn by the teaching of your own eyes what mysterious permanence there is in all that appertains to that strange Jewish nation whose very existence is to-day an ethnological miracle.
By the recognized rules of ancestry, Herod was entitled to the crown which he wore, for he belonged to the elder branch of Isaac's race, and Jacob's children were supplanters. Indeed, it is one of those coincidences which constantly startle us in this narrative, that the Edomites, for the first and last time in their history, attained in Herod's person to those temporal ambitions which had been thwarted through Jacob's subtlety. Nor do we read that Jesus ever laid claim to their patrimony as thus defined. It was not He, but the Roman Emperor, who deposed Archelaus, the son of Herod, and so created a vacancy on the throne of David that remains to this day--a vacancy which, despite all the hopes of the chosen people, no second CHRIST has arisen to fill. The kingdom sought by our Lord was spiritual, not temporal. It was the kingdom that Jacob, had he been wise, would have sought after, leaving the rest to Esau, as Abraham left the rest to Lot. And in the jealousies which separated Israel and Edom, we see the futility of international hatreds, ending as they always do in the slaughter of helpless children.
Jesus was not unmindful of His obligations as a first-born son. It was such that Mary presented her boy to the priests. But what was to be His birthright? Was He to expect lands or wealth or social position? Not at all. By the ordinance of Moses, an eldest son belonged especially to God; his ancestral estate was duty, and he must expect less, not more property, than his younger brothers, since, as a man redeemed from Egyptian death, he may not even lay claim to his own person. By such a reversion of our customs it was that Christ fulfilled the rules of primogeniture, as He fulfilled every other law, and was hailed by the Apostles as the Elder of many brethren-the Heir of all things; so that, in His sight, every child, however far removed from the succession, becomes as sacred as every other child, with an indefeasible title to the riches which are unsearchable. In Him, as Son of David, we see what is really meant by Noblesse Oblige. The aristocracy that He founded was of sacrifice, not privilege.
Jacob and Esau
Rebekah realized that her children, like our children, are the nations of the future. Esau, with his rough hands, fine clothing, and passion for the chase, was the ideal hero for a military despotism. Jacob, the plain farmer and merchant, who enjoyed nothing that had not been won by labor, who reaped nothing that he had not sown, and slew no beast for food that he had not first reared, was the founder of a trading people. When Jesus was born, it seemed as if the soldiers of Edom were triumphing everywhere over the civilians of Israel; but, in face of this panorama of triumphant force, He devoted Himself, not to the profession of arms, but to a manual industry; and, against all the appearances, declared that it is the meek who will inherit the earth. History has justified His wisdom. Commerce has proved more powerful than capture and conquest. The Jews have no army, no navy, no frontiers, no fortresses. But they continue as a nation, richer to-day and more powerful than at any time in their long and chequered story, while Edom is an evil memory. Her rock-hewn fastnesses, once so formidable, are haunts for the beasts of the desert.
When the Wise Men entered Jerusalem and asked for the King of the Jews, they started a controversy which will rage to the end of time. Herod and his city assumed, as a matter of course, that the new Sovereign would exercise temporal power, and they were afraid. In a sense, they had reason to be No monarch and no dynasty has influenced the course of history as has Jesus. His disciples were accused of turning the whole world upside down. Nor did He ever disclaim the title of " King " which the Wise Men--not wise enough to see Him first as Saviour--attributed to Him. To Pilate, He admitted that to this Kingship was He born; and the fact was asserted, for all men to see, on His very cross. Yet Herod himself, like Pilate, knew well enough that Jesus was no upstart pretender, no rebel against the State. If Jesus had been a claimant to his throne, Herod, in pretending to worship Him, must have offered to the Wise Men some kind of abdication in His favor. What the old tyrant did offer was merely worship. By the light that lighteth every man who comes into the world, Herod knew that Jesus would be called, not to abolish kingliness, but to ennoble it; not to create republics, but to inspire citizens; not to trample on crowns, but to receive them, laid at His feet; to be a King of kings and a Lord of lords. What makes the attitude of Herod so significant is precisely this-that he was not deceived as to the purpose of Christ. If he was the first man definitely to reject Him, at least he did it with his eyes open.
"A Monster of Iniquity"
Like his great ancestor, Esau, when he despised his birthright, Herod was at the point of death; and every man who is conscious of that dread enemy's approach is also near to God. For the sake of the last shreds of his power, this "profane" man threw away the everlasting fame which would have been his if he had bowed the knee to One who could pardon even him. He knew that the stars cannot lie. He believed the Prophets. But instead of bequeathing his throne to Jesus, he fought blindly for the survival of his vested interest, and bartered his soul for a mess of pottage. In the annals of error, there is no more pitiful picture than this of the king who fought for a throne, only to murder his heir; built a temple, but killed the high priest; consummated a brilliant marriage, but slew his wife; massacred his subjects, to strengthen his dynasty--including in the slaughter infants under two years old, in order to ease that one faded life of his which had less than two years to run.
We speak of Herod as a monster of iniquity, but he is not unique. He is only one example of a constantly-recurring type. The employer who subordinates the health of his workers to his profits, the emperor who harnesses his people to dreams of aggression, the landlord who receives rent without securing sanitation, the mother who marries her daughter for money--all these are guilty, each in his degree, of Herod's sin; nor is there any evidence that a child under two years old in England to-day has a greater chance of life than a child of that age in Judea. We do not issue edicts of death, but we are careless, and the percentage of mortality remains.
Not once in later years did Jesus refer to the crime which, at Bethlehem, was aimed against Him. So far from denouncing the Herods, He was ready to suffer in their stead. He did not attempt to avenge the innocent children who had died in His cause, by stirring up insurrection against the ruling and guilty house. Once, indeed, when the Pharisees, still recalling the massacre, threatened Him with death at the hands of Herod Antipas, He did reply by hurling the epithet " that fox " at the tetrarch; but this was after His friend John had been done to death. Even that event did not provoke Jesus to political revolt. His answer to the younger Herod was that He could not seek safety a second time in Egypt--for this was the suggestion--since there were the sick to be cured and the devils to be cast out. When the day's work was done, then, and then only, would the Worker be "perfected." Herod Antipas hugged his devils, and did not ask to be cured of his maladies. But the original wrong done by Jacob to Esau was none the less abundantly repaired. John sought earnestly to win the soul of the tetrarch. During His trial, Jesus Himself stood, silent and defenseless, before that unhappy man--Jesus, in His own word, perfected." And Paul, still yearning to rescue the fallen family, wrestled long with Herod Agrippa. But John and Paul, like Jesus, shed their blood, so far as the Herods were concerned, in vain. It is true that on the day of Pentecost some Edomites heard the Gospel in their own tongue and rejoiced, so ending for ever their quarrel with Israel and testifying to Jesus as Prince of Peace; but of their ruling house, not one prince, not one princess, so far as we know, ever accepted the great redemption. Then, as now, it was far easier to reconcile peoples than to assuage the quarrels of their rulers.
Christ and the Children
Driven from Bethlehem to Egypt, Jesus did not return thither. When He began His ministry, He made no attempt to revive the glories of His birth and ancestry. He came to men, as He comes to us, with His boundless love as His sole credential. But, throughout His life, He ever heard that voice in Ramah, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not. To repay those children was His first and constant thought. He did not utter one word that a boy or girl could not understand. He filled His addresses with stories which would attract the young to His Gospel. He raised a child from the dead. From another child He drove forth a devil. And He sharply rebuked the disciples when they hindered the children from gathering around Him or shouting His praises, as He entered Jerusalem. No man, no woman, was ever named by Him as our example, but He did set a child in the midst, and bid us live as happily as that. When He foretold the destruction of Jerusalem, what seemed to wring His heart was the knowledge that suffering would fall upon the babes in their mothers' arms; and, with the cross crushing His bleeding shoulders, the sight of women, as they accompanied Him to Calvary, filled Him with pity, not for Himself, but for the little ones who would cling vainly to their parents, crying out for protection. To every child He appointed a guardian angel, who should watch over it day and night, and be constantly answerable to the Eternal Father Himself. And about the neck of every man who should cause the children to stumble, He set the millstone which should sink such an one into the deep seas of everlasting remorse. Give a child a cup of cold water, said He, and you have done it unto Me. And not the least remarkable of the numerous coincidences which constantly startle one, as this narrative proceeds, is the fact that when, at last, the Babe of Bethlehem was slain by wicked men, it was a Joseph who buried Him, and this Joseph came from Arimathea, or Ramah. From cradle to grave His incarnate life was one PI 2destined unity.
The Children's Charter
So it is that what distinguishes Christian lands from all others is, first and foremost, the education of children. Orphanages and schools, day nurseries and infant clinics, special care of the weaklings, and play centers, cottage homes, and country holidays-all these are evidences that Herod has died; that Jesus has returned to Galilee from His exile in Egypt.
There are two theories of race, of which the first is that the fittest only should survive, and this was believed in Rome. Respect for the strong was there the life-breath of efficiency, and in an Empire where armies marched without ambulance there was no defense for the weak, save pity. Jesus, on the other hand, was filled with a great reverence for the backward. While others only judged by the twisted and distorted limbs, His eye--piercing to the very soul, like the rays of modern surgery--saw what was in man, the blood coursing through the veins, the heart beating in its mantle of sense, the mind striving within its prison. He would not willingly waste one finger of the meanest barbarian. He would claim the cannibal and the cripple, because both are needed by the Father of All. He would triumph, not by the slayers, but through the slain, and where to Herod, the people should die, that the King may live, to Jesus, the King should die, that the people may live.
It is the test of all temporal power--this well-being of the weakest--and Jacob, with his constant care for the women and children, was nearer to the kingdom than Esau, with his band of four hundred armed men.