Feast of Holy Innocents
Today’s passages are heartbreaking. In a season centered around a birth, in a time when many of us are surrounded by children, hearing the story of innocents slaughtered is devastating. And, sadly, this is not an unfamiliar thing. Unicef estimates that in 2020 36 million migrants were children. And, many of those are unaccompanied. And then there is the slow death of poverty. The Citizens’ Committee for Children suggests that in New York City alone, 22% of children live in poverty. We must also note the growing climate crises, whose impacts will be felt most acutely by the younger generations. Add to this the plight of our current children who have endured two years of education and social interactions continually interrupted by the pandemic. Even here within the community of Heavenly Rest, while we were able to continue with the Christmas Pageant and offer that space to our youth, there were still some that couldn’t participate because of possible covid exposure. And, I have to say it was troubling to watch 3-5 year olds play so comfortably in their masks, with half their faces hidden from one another. There is a loss of innocent lives and it is devastating.
So, how do we hold these tragedies? How do we respond to this loss? I do think that grief and wailing and loud lamentation is important. There is not much space in our world to mourn loss. And we must mourn. Grief is a way of acknowledging, of pointing out what is amiss in the world.
But here, I want to highlight a piece of today’s reading from the Hebrew Scriptures. In Jeremiah, in response to Rachel’s weeping, the Lord says “your children shall come back to their own country.” This is not just about children’s lives being spared, but children returning to the community. In the time of the Hebrew Scriptures, the loss of children was not just the loss of innocent lives, but the loss of a people, the voices that would carry on rituals, write the next history. The passage says, “there is hope for your future.” Here the presence and contributions of children are a part of Israel’s future.
Do we think of our children this way? Yes, they’re adorable, and they’re innocent and they love with abandon. So it is devastating when their lives are disrupted and threatened. But do we also recognize their part in our future? Do we recognize the essential and blessed roles they currently hold within our community? Do we allow them to truly be a part of our lives? Is this their space as much as it is ours?
Let me offer this a different way. Last night as I read these passages and reflected on how I grieve the current injustices experienced by children, I realized that I was grieving the loss of their lives, but somehow separate from mine. But this loss is great. It is our loss too. So, what does this insulated grieving say about how I allow, or perhaps, do not allow, children to be a part of the spaces I am in? What role do we give children in our lives? How much do we allow them to write their ideas, their passions, their questions, into our thoughts? What space do we give them in church? Are they just minds to be molded and shaped and brought up in the way of Christ? Or are they the children that Christ picks up and centers on his lap while preaching. These resting infants, these squirming toddlers, these exuberant middle schoolers, these guarded adolescents, they are spiritual beings too. With faith lives just as rich as ours. The coos, the squeals, the endless questions, the endless disagreements, and yes, the occasional, or perhaps not so occasional profanities utterred, are sermons in their own way.
I guess I am wondering if we are listening. Are we offering our children meaningful space in our own lives, in our faith journeys?
Today, as we consider the innocence of lives lost, let us grieve for this loss, but let us grieve more fully, let us recognize the importance of children in our spaces.
And from this grief, may we open our lives completely to the lives of children. May we witness their wounds, may we hear their cries, may we reckon with their questions, may we delight in their play, may we enter with them into their hopeful dreams, may we journey alongside them. May we allow their faiths to shape ours. May we come to understand the love of Christ more fully with them, with our children. Amen.