We don’t normally entertain gloomy messages for Christmas. In fact, the Advent season is supposed to open a season of joy leading to celebrating the gift of the Emmanuel, “God is with us” (Matthew:1:23), and rightly so. Joy is the normal beat and rhythm of the season.
The birth of Jesus, at least in Matthew’s script (chapter 2), profiles a “twin narrative” that is meant to hold together the contradictions between joy and fate. Between the elation of the “Star-search people” (v.10) and the fate of the “Rachel people”? Jesus’ birth was supposed to hold memory of both. Today we are so overwhelmed by the triumphant episode of his birth that we easily lose sight of the memory of the fated, the doomed, and the victims of systems of powers who are often pushed to the margins of remembrance during this season.
On the one hand, the “Star-search people” are represented by the wise men from the East who searched for the celestial star, the holy family, the gifts, and the realisation of the prophesy “but you, Bethlehem…for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel” (v.6). On the other hand, the “Rachel people” (2:13-18) are the fated represented by the innocent victims of Jesus’ birth, the massacred two-year-olds taken too soon against their will, and the many who “refused to be comforted” (v.18).
Their story is squeezed between the birth of Jesus and the death of Herold. Theirs is a forgotten storyline. Their children had no names. No celestial star. No gold. No myrrh. No frankincense. No time to farewell families. Their deaths unplanned. Their children had no crime besides being the same age as the baby Jesus. They did not receive an angel’s voice such as the one whispered to Joseph to “get up, take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt” (v.13). Rather they were only reminded of the “voice in Ramah” (v.18), a repetition of that dreadful exile experience symbolized by the inconsolable grief of Rachel, Jacob’s wife, over her children (Israel) killed and taken to exile in Babylon. For the “Rachel people,” the killing of their children awakens the memory of historical torture and a voice of unbearable grief. These are the people trapped between the fate of losing a child and waiting for some kind of reparation. A voice often ignored by preachers during Christmas. Forgotten by Christmas drama and carols.
Today, the “Rachel people” live amongst us. Look like us. But are not free like us. They carry the unbearable burden of waiting for justice and reparation. Their innocents killed in unnecessary wars waged by modern Herods. Their parents slaughtered by genocides in the name of legalised colonisation. Their loved ones illegally removed from their homes through mass deportations in the name of national security. Their future robbed by rich Herods and their transnational corporations who refuse to commit to any form of climate reparation. Their women abused by the many Herods either in the name of culture or in the name of religion. Their young girls’ and boys’ dignity robbed by the organised international drug network and trade. Their lands stolen either by colonial occupation or by an international agreement that they did not consent to. Their ocean targeted by Deep Sea Mining extractive economies as a transitional plan to green economy. This message is composed at a time when the world responds to the many “Rachel people” killed in the Bondi beach shooting in Australia.
Matthew’s birth narrative is an invitation to pause and reflect that not everything about Jesus’ birth is venerated with gold, myrrh, and frankincense. Not everyone got to see the promised child. Not everyone witnessed the celestial star. Not everyone spoke with an angel. Not everyone made it to Egypt. The good news of the coming of the Emmanuel came with costs. There were those who lost their lives in order for the divine promise to continue. And those who sacrificed for the good news of salvation to grow roots within the soil of a cruel empire.
The good news is that in the same story, there is another promise, “out of Egypt I called my son” (v.15). This child who made it to Egypt will later become a staunch defender of the “Rachel people” in the hallways of politics and religion including public spaces. Christmas therefore means more than Christmas trees, Christmas lights, and sharing gifts. It also means the birth of a new era to forge a different community who would come “out of” their Egypts to confront the many Herods in our societies, including our own inner Herods. What distinguishes a nation is not so much how it accounts for its members, but rather how it raises it citizens to become compassionate tellers and defenders of the many whose stories have been made forgotten.
This Christmas, while we remember Mary’s tears of joy for bearing a child, may we remember the tears of the many Rachels who lost a child. While we remember Bethlehem the prophesied birthplace for the Messiah, may we remember that the same Bethlehem is used to stage the killings of the many innocent people including children. While we remember that the wise men were finally “overjoyed” upon finding the star, may we also remember that there are others who have died searching and still haven’t found their star of hope. In other words, there is no Christmas without Christmas with the “Rachel people.” This is the mutual contradiction that makes the Christmas story more human and real. More authentic and hopeful. More ‘whole of life.’
Manuia tele le Kerisimasi!
Upolu Lumā Vaai
Manu Folau (Vice Chancellor)
Pasifika Communities University