"Christ’s kingdom on earth is a cross-kingdom" Holy Innocents 2025

28. December 2025
Holy Innocents
Matthew 2:13-18

“A voice was heard in Ramah, Lamentation, weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, Refusing to be comforted, Because they are no more” (Mt 2:18).

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

The Feast of the Holy Innocents is a rude interruption to the “cozy Christmas” people try to invent. The Church puts blood right next to the manger on purpose, because Jesus did not come to decorate our lives. He came to save them. And that means He walked straight into a world where kings panic, tyrants murder, and the devil rages—because a real King has arrived.

Christ’s kingdom on earth is a cross-kingdom. Not because God enjoys pain, but because this is how He conquers. The throne is a cross. The crown has thorns. The victory is hidden under weakness. And if that is true for the King, it will not be different for the people who belong to Him.

Look at how quickly the sweetness of Bethlehem meets the hatred of hell. An angel wakes Joseph with a command that is both tender and terrifying: “Arise, take the young Child and His mother, flee to Egypt… for Herod will seek the young Child to destroy Him.” (Matthew 2:13) God is in the flesh—Emmanuel—and the first thing that happens is not a Christmas parade. It is a midnight escape.

Christmas is not God coming down to affirm our plans. It is God coming down to overturn them. Joseph and Mary don’t get to keep control. They don’t get a predictable timeline. They don’t get to say, “But Lord, we just had the baby—can we not?” No. They obey. They rise. They go “by night.” (Matthew 2:14) The Son of God begins His life as a refugee child.

And we have to say what the Gospel says without flinching: Herod wants to destroy Him. That is not an “unfortunate political complication.” That is Satan’s ancient war against the Seed of the woman. (Genesis 3:15) The dragon always tries to devour the Child. (Revelation 12:4) If you want a Hallmark Christmas, you won’t understand Scripture. If you want the real Christ, you must face the real enemy.

Then comes one of the ugliest sentences in Matthew: “He sent forth and put to death all the male children who were in Bethlehem… from two years old and under.” (Matthew 2:16) These are not symbols. These are children. Little bodies. Little voices. Mothers with empty arms. The text does not sentimentalize it, and neither should we.

Matthew says Jeremiah is fulfilled: “A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, weeping, and great mourning… refusing to be comforted.” (Matthew 2:18; Jeremiah 31:15) That line is not a metaphor for “seasonal sadness.” It is Scripture naming real grief—raw, irrational, furious grief. Sometimes, the most faithful thing the Church can do is stop talking and let Rachel weep. The Bible does not scold her for tears. It records them.

But the Feast is not called “The Holy Victims.” It is called “The Holy Innocents.” That word can trip people up, so let’s be clear.

They are not “innocent” because they were sinless. “None is righteous, no, not one.” (Romans 3:10) They are “innocents” in two plain senses. First, before the world, they had done nothing to Herod. They were not threats. They were not rebels. They were murdered because a wicked man was afraid. Second—and this is the deeper comfort—before God, they are counted clean because of the promised Christ. In Israel, covenant children bore the sign; in the Church, Christ puts His Name on children in Holy Baptism. “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” (Galatians 3:27) God does not wait for you to become impressive before He becomes gracious. He gives Himself. He marks the helpless as His own.

That is why Jesus says, “Let the children come to Me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.”(Mark 10:14) He does not say, “Let them come when they can explain it.” He says, “Let them come.” Because salvation is a gift. Always gift.

So what are these children in Bethlehem? They are the first blood-witnesses around the Messiah. They do not preach sermons. They do not confess with articulate words. But they are taken up into the warfare surrounding Christ, and they die because He is here. Their death is not meaningless. It is not “wasted.” It is gathered into the story of the Lamb who came to be slain. And here’s the hard, holy point: in a grim way, they die in His place.

Herod’s rage is aimed at Jesus. Jesus escapes. The children die. That feels unbearable. And it is. But do not miss where the Gospel is going. Later, Jesus will not escape. Later, the Father will not send Him to Egypt. Later, there will be no detour around the slaughter. Jesus will set His face toward Jerusalem. (Luke 9:51) He will walk into the teeth of hatred on purpose. “The Son of Man came… to give His life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28)

The Holy Innocents are not the end of the story; they are the warning flare. They tell you, at the very beginning: this Child is marked for the cross. Simeon said it to Mary: “A sword will pierce through your own soul also.” (Luke 2:35) Holy Innocents is that sword beginning to glint. So what does this feast do to us?

First, it destroys carnal expectations about Christ. If you are following Jesus mainly because you think He will make your life smoother, you’re not listening to the Gospel. Jesus is not a life-hack. He is a King at war. The outline says it the way Scripture shows it: the King Himself had to go under the cross to found His kingdom; therefore, His kingdom on earth can only look like a cross-kingdom. That is, grace comes wrapped in suffering, and glory comes through death.

And you see it right away: “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” (Luke 9:58) The Creator borrows a manger. The Redeemer borrows a boat. The King borrows a donkey. The Savior dies on a borrowed cross and is buried in a borrowed tomb. You don’t get to call Him “Lord” and then demand a life of uninterrupted comfort. That is not Christianity; that is consumer religion.

Second, this feast tells the truth about the world. People love to say, “If God were real, why would He allow…” as though the Bible is naïve about evil. It is not. Scripture names tyrants. Scripture names murder. Scripture names demonic hatred. And then Scripture says something that sounds impossible: God is still Lord.

Matthew does not say Herod “got lucky.” He says God fulfilled His Word. “Out of Egypt I called My Son.” (Matthew 2:15; Hosea 11:1) God is not improvising. Even when Satan rages, he is on a leash. That does not make the evil good. It means the evil cannot win.

Jeremiah even dares to speak into Rachel’s weeping with a promise: “Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears… there is hope in your future… your children shall come back.” (Jeremiah 31:16-17) God does not wave a wand and erase grief. He puts hope under it. Real hope. Resurrection hope.

Third, this feast comforts the Church in her own losses. Some of you carry grief that still burns. Some of you have buried children. Some of you have prayed over tiny coffins. If that is you, then hear me carefully: the Church is not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen. The Church is putting your tears inside the Bible’s tears, so you don’t have to grieve alone.

And the comfort is not, “They’re in a better place” as a vague slogan. The comfort is Jesus Christ Himself: the Child who escaped Herod did not escape death. He died. He rose. And because He rose, the slaughter does not get the last word. “Because I live, you also will live.” (John 14:19)

Finally, the feast teaches us how to see martyrdom—and, honestly, how to see our whole life. The world says honor looks like ease, applause, safety, and control. God says honor looks like Christ—humble, hidden, faithful under pressure. Christ’s shame is the world’s mockery, but it is His people’s honor, and the Father will finally honor them.

That’s why Revelation shows the end not as silence, but song: “A Lamb standing on Mount Zion… and they sang… a new song before the throne.” (Revelation 14:1–3) The Lamb is standing because the Lamb was slain and lives. The song is new because death is defeated. And the ones singing are those marked with the Father’s Name. (Revelation 14:1) That is baptismal language. That is Church language. That is your future.

So you do not honor the Holy Innocents by turning them into a political mascot or a sentimental ornament. You honor them by confessing what their blood confesses: Jesus is the King, Herod is not. Jesus is Lord, Caesar is not. Jesus gives life; death does not. Jesus wins, the devil does not.

And you honor them by receiving the same Christ they died around: the Christ who comes low, who comes hidden, who comes for the helpless, who comes to forgive sinners, who comes to kill death by dying. This is the Kingdom. A cross-kingdom now—yes. But not forever.

One day, Rachel will not refuse comfort, because comfort will be standing in front of her, alive: the Lamb who was slain, and the children He has gathered. One day, the Church’s weeping will end. One day, the tyrants will be judged. One day, every stolen life will be answered by a resurrection.

Until then, we keep Christmas the way God gives it: not as a fantasy world with no Herod, but as the real world with a real Savior. The Child has come. The war has begun. And the outcome is not in doubt. “Where I am, there will My servant be also.” (John 12:26) That sounds like a cross. And it is. But it also sounds like home.

And that is why—even on the Feast of the Holy Innocents—we can still say it without lying: “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy… for unto you is born… a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10–11)

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin