There’s nothing different this Christmas season. Two thousand years ago a baby was born in a stable, wrapped in cloth, placed in a manger.
Yet the king trembled.
Soldiers were sent out into the night with swords drawn and eyes searching for the child. Babies were slaughtered in Bethlehem because one insecure ruler feared that love would dethrone him.
Nothing’s different this Christmas.
Today we hear of our grand democracy, of a mighty constitution, spoken by leaders who claim they are strong and courageous. And yet I see the same trembling. I see the same fear that gripped Herod. Anti conversion laws are passed one after another and very quickly, in hurried panic. Television screens roar with thunderous declarations that sound like battle cries. Hate is hurled like stones. Violence whispers from every corner, and those who dare to speak of peace are mocked or beaten.
Nothing’s different this Christmas.
Two thousand years ago they were afraid of a child who could not walk, who could not talk, who could not even lift his head without support. A child who had no armour, no army, no wealth and no political ambition. Yet rulers trembled at the very sound of his name because he carried an idea powerful enough to shake kingdoms.
That idea was love.
It was compassion.
It was forgiveness.
It was peace.
Not rebellion or revolt. Not a call to violence or war. Not a strategy for overthrowing governments. Just love.
So, I ask again. What were they afraid of? What are you afraid of?
What was Herod afraid of as he paced through his palace? What was Pilate afraid of when he washed his hands and watched innocence being crucified? What were the chief priests afraid of when they conspired in dark rooms and whispered lies to the crowd?
Maybe their hearts were troubled because they knew that truth spoken softly is louder than any slogan shouted with fury. Maybe they feared the smile of a carpenter more than the roar of an army. Maybe they feared that forgiveness would conquer hatred.
And maybe that is what our rulers fear today: That love will expose their cruelty. That compassion will shame their arrogance. They fear that unity among ordinary people will silence their politics of division.
Because deep down they know a simple truth.
No government can imprison love.
No law can outlaw peace.
No army can defeat compassion.
And no ruler can prevent the message of the manger from reaching the hearts of men and women.
So, this Christmas as you rush to tweak your laws and lengthen your sticks, ask yourselves a question, a question that those same others found answers after they reached the fires of hell, “What have you got against the baby in the manger? Why are you afraid of love and peace?”
Yes. Why?