A favorite bed time story at this time of year is the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, by Dr. Seuss. It begins . . .
Every Who Down in Who-ville Liked Christmas a lot...
But the Grinch, Who lived just north of Who-ville, Did NOT!
The Grinch hated Christmas!
The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don’t ask why.
No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
Well, I’m sure most of you know the story. The grinch, sitting alone in his cave up atop a snow covered mountain, was feeling more than a bit miffed about all the celebrating going on down below. And with his heart, being two sizes to small, he must have decided . . . to put a stop to it all.
In today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel, we were introduced to another Grinch – who almost stole Christmas. Now this other, much older grinch named Herod did not have fur that was green, a head that was large, and a heart that was small. But let us consider: perhaps, he did, after all.
For the child that was born in a stable that Bethlehem night,
posed a serious thorn to his eminence, gave the King quite a fright.
Thus he commanded his soldiers, sending them out late at night,
With orders to murder, to kill the Christ child, and steal our delight.
OK, I hear you: enough already with the rhyming! Those three wise men did give Herod quite a fright, apparently. Perhaps he was green with envy. Perhaps his head was swollen with self-importance. Perhaps his heart was two sizes too small. So much so, that the King ordered his soldiers to find this child, such that he might be destroyed yet in infancy. And Herod very nearly succeeded in stealing the Christ right out of Christmas. Then there would never have been a Christmas for us to celebrate. Not just in the sleepy little village of Who-ville, but in every village, across the known world, no child would be coming, no twinkling lights would be seen, no joyful caroling heard. December 25th would just be another day, one that like all the rest would come in a flash and once again go.
We might wonder how on earth a little child, born in a very lowly station in a stable in Bethlehem, could pose such a threat to the King of Israel. After all, he had been appointed by Caesar to this post in Jerusalem, named ‘King of the Jews’, as the Roman regent in that area. He had thousands of troops at his disposal. A large fortress in which to live in safety and security. And the full backing of the Roman Empire and its armies, who were in control of most of the known world at that time. Why worry about a babe lying in a manger low?
We find some clues in the beginning of chapter two of Matthew’s gospel. You might turn there with me and take a look. What, or who, was this Jesus that needed to be destroyed? Well, we see a number of things in verse two and following, where the three wise men show up on Herod’s doorstep, asking questions.
The first question those wise men asked, was: "where is the newborn King of the Jews?" Now, Herod, he thinks HE’S the KING of the Jews – not some newborn. First problem.
Next, the wise men say: We’ve seen his star rising. Hmmm. Jesus is a rising star. That probably means that Herod’s star is falling. Another problem.
Then they say: we have come to worship him. By this time, as the good book says, verse 3, Herod was deeply disturbed. Maybe unhinged. Maybe he was becoming unglued – about the possibility of a rival.
Now, if you look at Herod’s history, it appears he was guilty of murdering even his own children, his own flesh and blood, because he was filled with fear, suspicion, and jealousy. No rivals allowed. Period.
Next, Herod, being a fairly crafty fellow (you have to be fairly crafty to claw your way to near the top of the Roman Empire), starts trying to discover more about this infant King. In verse 4 it says “he called a meeting.” Interesting. Even back then, if you had a problem, you “called a meeting.” Some things never change! And he asked the assembled priests and law teachers where the Messiah would be born . . . . according to scripture.
Now here is another clue – another problem. Herod, the green faced grinch, recognizes the potential that the child the three wise men are inquiring about just may be the ‘Messiah.’ And he knew what a Messiah was. A deliverer. One who would deliver his people. And since Herod was the one holding them captive, on behalf of the Roman government, this was another real dilemma.
Next, the priests and lawyers assembled for the meeting pipe up and share with Herod that his rival is to be born in Bethlehem – the birthplace of King David. Hmmm. Here’s another potential fly in the ointment. Bethlehem – the City of David – the home town of the most popular King in all of Israel’s long history. David – a home town, home grown King. Appointed by God, not by some bureaucrat in Rome. Could this mean that the child they were looking for – would walk in David’s footsteps? And be a powerful, independent King? Free from slavery to Rome? Could this be?
And then, to top it all off, the priests and best Torah scholars in Jerusalem that Herod had gathered for this meeting, shared with him some exacting words of scripture. They said to Herod, this is what the prophet wrote:
“O Bethlehem of Judah,
you are not just a lowly village in Judah,
for a ruler will come from you,
who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.”
Now, in these words of prophecy, Herod learns, maybe for the first time, or maybe re-learns, that this coming child, the one to be born in lowly Bethlehem, will be a ruler – will be a shepherd for all Israel. Problem, problem, PROBLEM! Herod is the ruler. He wants to be the shepherd. He wants the confused sheep of Israel to follow him. And he has tried to earn their devotion. Spending a lot of money, for example, to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem that was destroyed by the last invading armies of hundreds of years before.
We see Herod’s craftiness once more as he instructs the wise men in a private message to go find the child, and then come back and let him know where the child is, so that He, the current ruler, may go and “worship him too.”
Fortunately, as we know from the story, this grinch named Herod almost stole Christmas, but didn’t quite manage it. The wise men were warned by an angel not to return to Herod. And likewise, Joseph, Jesus legal father, was also warned by the angel to ‘get outta town.’ And so, to avoid Herod’s superstition, his anxiety, his jealousy, and his wrath, they went to Egypt, and stayed there until Herod was no longer in the picture.
And as we also know, Herod was furious when he discovered he had been outwitted, and ordered all the young males, two years and younger, in and around Bethlehem . . . to be murdered. And those were very sad days for the people in the village where Jesus was born. And perhaps very difficult days for Joseph and Mary, to have to flee the ancestral lands, and move to a foreign country for some years, because the son that traveled with them was such a threat to the rich and powerful ruler of Israel.
What should have been a season of joy, rapidly turned into one of sadness. From joy to sadness. It sounds a bit like the transition from pre- to post-Christmas. From before to after.
When we think, in the pre-season, about Jesus being born to us, we have the sensations of joy, maybe the same waves of strong feelings that Mary experienced. We feel it especially in the weeks and days leading up to Jesus birth – Christmas day. We are caught up in unusual, countercultural feelings of generosity. Charity. Forgiveness. Sharing. Serving. We buy each other presents. I buy you a pound of Starbucks coffee. You buy me a knitted tie. We dig deeply into our pockets, and pull out some change, or some bills, for the man standing next to a red kettle, ringing a bell. We stand in lines to mail packages, containing gifts of love to those we love who can’t be near to us this year. And we bring brightly decorated shoeboxes to church, overflowing with little toys for children all around the world who, without us, wouldn’t experience the joy of Christ or Christmas this year. We brave the grocery store once more, and load up food baskets to deliver to the shut-ins and those in need. We may even go so far as to visit a homeless shelter, to serve a hot meal, and bring some cheer, all because a baby was born in Bethlehem, and we celebrate that at this time of year . . . in the pre-season.
It’s a magnificent time of year. Perhaps there is none better. But now, Christmas is behind us. Christ is born. We have enjoyed it thoroughly. The stockings, once bulging, are now empty. The brightly colored presents are all unwrapped, perhaps even put away. The needles are falling off the Christmas tree – if real, or looking dusty – if fake. The Christmas cookies are gone, and if not gone, are stale.
Today is the day AFTER Christmas. We are in the post-season now. Chuck Swindoll composed this poem to commemorate this day. It’s called: “Twas the Day after Christmas.’
’Twas the day after Christmas,
When all through the place;
There were arguments and depression—
Even Mom had a long face.
The stockings hung empty,
And the house was a mess;
The new clothes didn’t fit...
And Dad was under stress!
The family was irritable,
And the children--no one could please;
Because the instructions for the swing set;
Were written in Chinese!
The bells no longer jingled,
And no carolers came around;
The sink was stacked with dishes,
And the tree was turning brown.
The stores were full of people;
Returning things that fizzled and failed,
And the shoppers were discouraged;
Because everything they’d bought was now on half-price sale!
’Twas the day AFTER Christmas—
The spirit of joy had disappeared;
The only hope on the horizon;
Was twelve bowl games the first day of the New Year!
So, we have arrived – in the post Christmas season. And the joy, and the hope, and the peace that we’ve been talking about, and singing about for weeks, is soon to disappear. Before too long, a Grinch comes. Or a Herod. To try to steal, kill, and destroy all the glad tidings of the season. To steal our joy. To kill our hope. To destroy our peace.
Jesus promised it would happen. Maybe not necessarily the day after we commemorate his birth, but he promised that a thief would come to steal, kill and destroy the fullness of life that we can only find in Him. (John 10:10)
So, the first question for us today is: who is it that comes, to steal, kill, and destroy? Who is it? Surely not the green faced grinch with the evil eyes and the grimacing face! And perhaps the second question is: what can we do about it?
I may be on thin ice here, but I’m going to suggest to you who or what it is that steals our joy. I believe, first, that it is a culture that is becoming increasingly unfriendly to the Christ in us. That makes us want to put Christmas and Christ away, and not talk about it publicly after the holiday is over with. After all, Christmas and Christ are controversial enough – during Christmas! During the pre-Christmas Season, we can more or less come out of the closet and act like Christians, caring, and giving, and singing, and sending Christian greeting cards. But only for one month of the year. That may be one factor. Although that’s a factor that’s easily overcome if we’re serious about whom we are as Christians.
The other factor is more troublesome. The other grinch, who steals Christmas joy from our hearts, belongs to us . . . it’s – self centeredness. After Christmas ends, it doesn’t seem to take long before we throw the gearshift lever of our lives into reverse, and instead of thinking about others, instead of caring and giving, we start thinking mostly about ourselves again. We begin to think things like “What’s in this for me?” Or “What do I get outta this? Or “Why do I need to wait so long in the returns line at JC Penney?”
It’s interesting. We spend a few weeks, thinking a lot about the needs of others, and how we can make others feel loved. And we think about how we can be pleasing to God, to be instruments of peace for the Lord. And we are happy. Joyful, even. And then it’s all over for another year. And we go back to the norm. The Grinch has stolen our joy, for another 11 months.
I think perhaps Herod never got it. He simply seems to have died – and not so many years after Joseph, Mary, and Jesus moved away – to Egypt. Some people never do – get it – that is. Now, if I understand Dr. Seuss correctly, the Green faced Grinch got it. He had a change of heart. He found a way to celebrate Christmas – every day. By giving. Every day. Not just on one day of the year.
In fact, if you’re not giving, and serving God each day, you will not be able to see, hear, or feel the joy of Christ working through you to bring peace, hope, and joy to the world.
Don’t want the good feelings of Christmas to be stolen away? Let Christ and the spirit of Christmas be born anew in you each day, 365 days a year. I will close with a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier that seems quite fitting for this day after Christmas: (Tardy Oxcart, page 231)
Somehow, not only for Christmas
But all the long year through
The joy that you give to others
Is the joy that comes back to you.
And the more you spend in blessing
The poor and the lonely and sad
The more of your heart’s possessions
Return to make you glad.
May it be Christmas day year round for each and every one of you,
As you seek daily to honor Christ in all you say and do.
Amen.
