Christmas Accompanied by Tears: The Cross Foreshadowed at the Crib

When we think of Christmas, we think of angels and carols, light and peace. Yet the Church asks us today to look more deeply.

Today the Church sets before us lamentation and innocent blood. Christmas is not only accompanied by angels and carols; whether we like it or not, it is also accompanied by tears. The manger cannot be contemplated honestly without hearing a cry that pierces the joy of the season.

The Child lying in the manger welcomed by the poor and sought by the Magi is already a sign of contradiction. Before He speaks a word, His presence divides hearts. Some respond with trust and worship, others with fear and violence. Even at Christmas, the shadow of the Cross is already present.

Herod stands in sharp contrast. Fear drives him to destroy what he cannot control. Like a wounded beast striking blindly, he orders the massacre of innocent children hoping that among many victims he might destroy the One.

Here we must pause. This is not merely ancient history. This is the perennial drama of the human heart. Whenever power is separated from truth, it becomes destructive. Whenever fear replaces faith, violence follows.

Yet this is not a story without hope. Evil does not have the final word.

Herod represents power rooted in fear; the Magi represent authority surrendered in faith. Fear leads Herod to violence; faith leads the Magi to worship.

Saint John Chrysostom reminds us that the Magi were drawn not by power or force, but by the quiet strength of Christ’s Spirit. Jesus conquers hearts not through intimidation, but by truth, by grace, by the quiet authority of divine love. Even as an infant unable to speak, powerless in appearance, He commands hearts across nations.

The Holy Innocents confess Christ not by word but by blood. Augustine presents them as a silent yet victorious army, witnessing to Christ through suffering rather than proclamation.

The Innocents are not accidental victims but prophetic signs. Their deaths anticipate the pattern of all Christian martyrdom: apparent loss that conceals eternal victory.

St. Bede the Venerable helps us see the deeper meaning hidden within this tragedy. These children prefigure all the martyrs of the Church. Their infancy teaches us that humility lies at the heart of discipleship. Whether strong in faith or just beginning, every disciple is called to fidelity. For most of us, that fidelity is lived quietly—in daily choices of love, truth, and courage.

St. Matthew presents it with brutal clarity: “A voice is heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children.” It is the cry of mothers grieving their children, victims of Herod’s fear and ruthless hunger for power.

Saint Jerome explains that Rachel becomes the image of all maternal sorrow—and of the Church herself. She weeps not only for death, but for injustice. Her cry is the Church’s cry whenever human dignity is violated.

Yet Jerome also reminds us of something deeply Christian: Rachel’s mourning is not despair. These children are not lost. They have been granted eternal life through their martyrdom. The Church grieves, but she does not seek to undo God’s saving work. She fixes her gaze on the life to come.

Rachel, long deceased, becomes the symbol of maternal sorrow and of the Church herself. Rachel weeps not simply because of death, but because of injustice.

Rachel’s cry is not confined to the past. She weeps today for the innocent whose lives are taken unjustly. Her lament is the cry of the Church against every violation of human dignity—against abortion, against violence, against exploitation, against every sin that destroys life at its most vulnerable stage.

On this Feast of the Holy Innocents, that cry has not faded into history. It is still with us in the tears of parents and families who mourn innocent lives. It is a cry we may wish away but cannot and must not ignore.

That cry is heard today in many ways: in the destruction of unborn life; in children exploited through labor and trafficking; in families torn apart by war, migration, and poverty; in the elderly who suffer neglect and quiet abandonment. The Church also weeps for the harm caused by the sins of her own members. This sorrow humbles us and calls us to repentance, vigilance, and real reform.

Can we truly experience Christian joy if we turn our backs on these realities? Can Christmas joy exist if we ignore the cry of our brothers and sisters, the cry of the children?

Christmas, then, is not an escape from reality. It is a call to responsibility. It summons us to protect life, to help it be born, to help it grow, and to defend it wherever it is threatened.

Saint Joseph shows us how this calling is lived. Because he was attentive to God’s voice and docile to His will, Joseph became more aware of the reality around him. He did not flee into denial or sentimentality. He interpreted events soberly and courageously. When warned of danger, he arose, took the Child and His Mother, and acted decisively.

Today, with Saint Joseph as our model, we too are called to arise and take this reality firmly in hand. We are asked to protect the joy entrusted to us from the Herods of our own time, the forces that devour the innocence of children.

To contemplate the manger, then, is also to contemplate this cry of pain. It means opening our eyes and ears to what is happening around us, allowing our hearts to remain attentive and vulnerable to the suffering of our neighbors, especially to the suffering of children. The tragedy that began in Bethlehem did not end there; it continues wherever innocence is threatened and life is treated as disposable.

Today, the Church does not ask us merely to remember the Holy Innocents. She asks us to stand with them.

May Rachel’s tears soften our hearts. May the Holy Innocents intercede for all children whose lives are threatened.

And may we, guided by Saint Joseph and Mary, Mother of tender love, become faithful guardians of life so that the joy born in Bethlehem may be lived, protected, and shared, until the day when God wipes away every tear in Christ Jesus our Lord.

✍ Fr James Abraham