The Lost King of Christmas (It’s Not Who You Think)
Photo by Pearl
Missing from the Manger
‘Tis the season for nativity displays, Christmas pageants, yuletide carols, and holiday greeting cards. We hear about and see plenty of angels, shepherds, and magi, along with the Holy Family, assorted animals, and even the fictive Little Drummer Boy. Yet there’s one character who plays a noteworthy role in the biblical narrative of Jesus’ infancy but who typically goes missing from our Christmastime commemorations. He’s the infamous King Herod the Great, brutal ruler over Israel at the time of Christ’s birth. By reviewing what Matthew’s Gospel tells us about him, we can gain insight into our own times—and ourselves.
Lessons from a Crime Lord
In the past few years, my corner of the United States has achieved a certain measure of notoriety thanks to the film Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) and the TV crime drama Tulsa King (2022–present). Both feature a ruthless old man with money and muscle at his disposal who’s determined to stay in power no matter how many laws, promises, and heads he breaks. And in each case, he cloaks himself in religiosity. Over in Osage country, William “King” Hale cites the Bible and leads the Masonic lodge; down in Tulsa, Dwight “The General” Manfredi and his fellow mafiosos maintain Catholic trappings.
Herod was cut from the same cloth. He used God when it suited him. Matthew 2:1–8 records that when the magi arrived in Jerusalem inquiring after the newborn King of the Jews, Herod called a meeting of all the top religious leaders in response. Perhaps they felt privileged—instead of ignoring or threatening them, the leader of their nation wanted to hear from them. He wanted them to tell him about the Messiah. He even partnered with the magi in their quest and told them that he wanted to pay homage to God’s Anointed just like they did. Today politicians and celebrities do the same… and they’re not the only ones. Here are a few examples from my experience of congregational life and Christian education:
The fiancé who attended church just long enough to meet the requirement for having the wedding there, then never darkened its door again.
The stranger who showed up for a baptismal service in hopes that a quick dip in the holy waters would give him good luck as he joined the military.
The undergraduate student athlete who suddenly professed spiritual interest and switched majors to take advantage of a ministry scholarship after sports funding dried up.
In NASCAR racing, “drafting” is the technique of pulling up bumper to bumper behind the car in front while speeding down the track so as to benefit from the reduced drag of the airstream the lead car is creating. But if you’re the driver of the tailing car and you spot an opening to take the lead yourself, you’ll “dump and run”—slingshot around the other car and leave it eating your exhaust. That’s what Herod did: he leaned in to Israel’s religion and tried to get close to the Messiah, but only out of rivalry, not reverence. He turned on God when God got in his way. Matthew 2:16–18 describes how he sent his troops to massacre all the babies and toddlers in Bethlehem’s vicinity to ensure that no claimant to his throne would survive.
Once again, this still happens today. When a successful company founded by a devout Christian and on Christian principles stops donating to the Salvation Army because the Salvos hold to traditional Christian teaching on sexuality and gender, that certainly looks like dumping and running. The same goes for some (note well: not all!) individual narratives of dechurching and deconversion: the ones that seem to be driven less by honest intellectual doubts or church hurt than by a desire for social acceptance or moral license. The Holy One of Israel is a God of covenants, not convenience. To Herod and his spiritual descendants, that fact always causes offense.
But Herod’s is never the last word. God overruled him to bring about the divine plan. In Matthew 2:9–15, God guided the magi to find the Christ-child and supply his family with financial resources, then directed them all out of reach of Herod’s murderous grasp. As John Wesley commented, the magi’s triple gift of gold, frankincense, and myrrh “was a most seasonable, providential assistance for a long and expensive journey into Egypt, a country where they were entirely strangers, and were to stay for a considerable time.” The magi’s coming with treasures for Jesus also provided a down payment on the fulfillment of Psalm 72:8–11, 15, which envisions all nations bringing tribute to the Son of David. The Holy Family’s escape to asylum—a pattern still followed with varying success—also enabled Jesus to relive Israel’s Exodus history and so fulfill prophecy (Matt. 2:15).
God still overrules to bring good out of evil. On November 14–15, 1940, the city of Coventry, England suffered a massive Luftwaffe bombing raid that left its city center and cathedral in ruins. Six weeks later, its provost stood amid the rubble and gave a brief but potent Christmas Day broadcast. He recalled the traditional Coventry Carol, a haunting lullaby for the Christ-child against the backdrop of Herod’s slaughter of the innocents, and he reminded his hearers that the Christ who had been born into a violent world, suffered, and conquered death remained with them. In keeping with the gospel, the provost urged not revenge but the determined pursuit of kindness and peace. Coventry Cathedral was rebuilt after World War Two to become a center for peacemaking and reconciliation.
Herod, Did You Know?
One of the seasonal songs that airs this time of year is Mark Lowry’s lovely “Mary, Did You Know?” But a parody of it helps to round out the reflections above:
Herod, did you know that this baby boy would one day walk on water?
Herod, did you know that this baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that this baby boy has come to make things new?
This child that you’ve tried killing, you’ll someday answer to?
Herod, did you know that this baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Herod, did you know that this baby boy will calm the storm with his hand?
Did you know that this baby boy has walked where angels trod?
When you missed this little baby, you missed the face of God?
Herod, did you know?
This Christmas, may these lyrics not be true of us. May we not follow in the footsteps of King Herod, using God when it’s convenient, dumping God when it’s not, and in the end missing the face of God in this Baby. Whatever temptations or tribulations we pass through now and in the coming year, let us hold fast to Christ, trusting God to overrule evil and bring about deliverance in the end. The guarantee lies in the manger.
Jerome Van Kuiken teaches at Oklahoma Wesleyan University, sits on Firebrand’s Editorial Board, and has authored The Judas We Never Knew: A Study on the Life and Letter of Jude (Seedbed, 2023) and The Creed We Need: Nicene Faith for Wesleyan Witness (Aldersgate, 2025).