Moral clarity

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” (Matthew 2:16-18)

These few verses from Matthew’s gospel, especially the quote from the prophet Jeremiah, have been echoing in my mind for over a week. They are appointed in the lectionary only for the Feast of the Holy Innocents (December 28). I wonder if they are excluded from the Sunday lectionary because the image of innocent children being slaughtered is considered too uncomfortable and violent for worship.

In the aftermath of the terrorist attack by Hamas we cannot turn our eyes away from the slaughter. On October 7 Hamas orchestrated an attack that killed, wounded, and took hostage young and old, affluent and poor, military personnel and civilians. The one thing the victims had in common was being Jewish. The attack has been described as a pogrom and the worst day for Judaism since the Holocaust.  

But it is not only Jewish lives that have been lost. Innocent Palestinians — most of them Muslim though some could be Christian — have also been killed or forced to flee their homes. On Tuesday more tragedy struck in Gaza when hundreds were killed by an explosion at the Al Ahli Arab Hospital, a ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem. As of the time I’m writing, it is unclear who is responsible.

Over the past few days, I’ve heard a yearning for moral clarity. From parishioners of St. Paul’s who want to know where I stand. From a local rabbi encouraging Christian clergy not to retreat into moral equivalence. Columnists and commentators in myriad news organizations have focused on moral questions.

I wonder if moral clarity, especially if by clarity we mean certainty, is possible. Can we support Israel by condemning the actions of Hamas and lament the growing humanitarian tragedy in Gaza? Can we support our Jewish and Muslim neighbors? Can we renounce the evil that is made manifest in acts of antisemitism and Islamophobia? Can we hope that terrorist organizations will be defeated and yearn for peace?

I don’t know if we can find moral clarity. But as a starting point, I’ll suggest we allow our words and actions in the coming weeks to be guided by some of the questions from our Baptismal Covenant (pp. 304-305 in the Prayer Book). Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

And while we ask these questions, we can also join the countless Rachels who now weep for their children. Instead of judgment, shall we lift our voices in prayerful lament? Even in lament, we do not need to be without hope. As the prophet Jeremiah writes, God hears Rachel’s lament and promises that her children “shall come back from the land of the enemy; there is hope for your future, says the Lord: your children shall come back to their own country.” (Jeremiah 31:16-17)

Let it be so, O God. Let it be so.