"Sleep in heavenly peace" -- except of course for those babies that were killed.

When I hear this part of the Christmas story, how can I believe that this is a story about a God who loves children? Being a kid around this God isn't such a good deal, especially if you lived in Bethlehem. Yet it isn't so different today -- innocent children are still abused and even killed. Many of us have lived in that unjust suffering.

Being a kid looks like a rotten deal if this God lets innocent babies be killed; and this God lets little children here in America be abused; In fact, God even lets God's own Son die.

We who are Christians claim that this new baby in the manger is the Messiah the one who comes to save us. But when I hear this story about the babies killed in Bethlehem (and when I look at all the abuse and suffering of children and the powerless in our society today) it doesn't look to me as if the Messiah has come.

When I hear this part of the Christmas story, I could be a good Jew, asking "How can Jesus be the Messiah if there is still suffering like this in the world? The Messiah is supposed to wipe away our tears, end our suffering, and to bring a reign of peace and justice. Killing innocent babies doesn't look like peace & justice to me."

Innocent suffering is a big problem for God as well as for God's children. The problem is that God loves and desires to be loved by all God's children, even the selfish, hurtful ones like Herod. And so God gave all people the freedom to choose to love God . . . or not. God does not coerce their love by God's greater strength. And when some of God's children choose not to love, to use their freedom to turn away from God, the result is often the suffering of innocent people.

Now, God could easily take away that freedom, and make people slaves who are forced to obey and to love God. But is forced "love" real love at all? Forced love is abusive. I believe God wants us to learn to love as God loves -- freely; and we can only do that if we have the freedom also to choose not to love.

God is caught in God's own trap. Undeserved suffering, which is not God's desire for us, results from God's great desire that we be free to love. So we are not made slaves of God, but are given the freedom of children. AND at Christmas we are given a loving brother to show us how to use that freedom. The Word became flesh -- the all-powerful God becomes a helpless baby. And the helpless baby becomes a wandering rabbi who teaches us something of how to love freely, how to proclaim in simple human actions the coming of God's reign of peace and justice.

Jesus, the Messiah, doesn't fix everything for us. Jesus, the Messiah, shows us how to help fix things. Jesus teaches us how to live in God's world of peace and justice.

We, as little children, might follow our brother Jesus. We might learn how to love, how to live in a world of justice & peace we might learn to listen to, respect, and love the little children and powerless people. But there's a hitch there too. Just remember what happened to Jesus. He too was an innocent victim -- hung on a cross. And we are told that that is our "salvation." If you've "Been there. Done that " -- been the victim of someone more powerful than you -- you know there is no healing or salvation in it.

In fact, regardless of what you may think you have heard the church tell you: If you are the victim of someone more powerful than you, that kind of suffering is not what God asks of anyone, not even God's Son. This is not the suffering victim stuff that brings salvation or healing.

When Jesus our Brother does die, he does so not as a powerless victim but from a place of absolute power. He's not turning the cheek other cheek to someone bigger. This is not a baby God who dies but a powerful God who freely chooses from his place of absolute power to allow others their freedom, even their freedom to sin and their freedom to hang him on a cross. Jesus' suffering is freely chosen and that's where it finds its power. Jesus could have zapped both the Roman soldiers and the Jews who wanted to crucify him.

Instead of using his divine power to rule over them God in Jesus chooses to make God's very self our human equal -- equally vulnerable. It is when the more powerful person in a relationship chooses to set aside his or her power because of love for the weaker one that suffering can become an instrument of salvation. In true love the love is mutual, between equals. One party doesn't hold power over the other to try to force their love or their actions.

This is an essential part of the incarnation: God became human, to show God's love for us even when God was a helpless baby. God became human, so that our vulnerability would be mutual. So that our love can be true. At Christmas God became like us to level the playing field: so our love would not be coerced by a greater power. Because when the power in a relationship is out of balance, the relationship can easily become abusive -- sexually, emotionally, and physically.

God became human to touch our lives not with divine power but with true love. And God became our loving brother to teach us how to love as equals.

Today we hope that God will touch our lives with healing. God can use human hands for healing, just as God did in Jesus. But we must take care that the loving, healing touch is mutual, not a one-way act of power that itself might become abusive. So today, before those desiring the laying on of hands and anointing receive that sacrament, the ministers will ask that all who desire to be healed first lay their hands on the ministers and pray for the ministers' healing as will. Because healing touch, loving touch, like Good Touch, is mutual.

That's what Christmas tells us when God put God's own self into the risky care of human hands. God makes Godself vulnerable to us. We are in a process of healing together. Our healing may not be a "quick fix" (although with God ALL things ARE possible); but our healing will give us hope on our journey toward wholeness.

In the same way, perhaps we expected the Baby Jesus, the Messiah, to instantly change the world into God's reign of peace, and love and justice. But that's not what we got.

The horrible story of the Holy Innocents of Bethlehem tells us that The birth of the Messiah is not a quick fix resulting in a world of instant peace and justice; but a promise to a broken world of future peace and justice-- a hope that we can choose to help bring to fulfilment as we are healed and as we learn to love as God wants us to love.

You -- the broken-hearted ones who are being healed -- You are the ones anointed by the Spirit of God to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken hearted, to proclailm liberty to the captives.

May you find healing this day and share that healing with your broken-hearted sisters and brothers.

Sam was alone. Rosemary, their daughter, Elizabeth, and son, Jonathan, had left earlier to attend the midnight Christmas Eve service in their church. Sam chose not to go. He seldom went with them to church, though he knew this disappointed them.

"The barn!" Sam suddenly said out loud. "I forgot about the animals! I've never done that before. What in the world is wrong with me?" Sam quickly put on his boots and coat. He pressed the fur hat his wife had made for him onto his head. He opened the back door and a blast of frigid air sent a shiver through him. He carefully walked down the icy steps and across the yard to the barn. With a pull, the large wooden barn door creaked open. Sam walked inside.

It was almost as cold in there as outside. His breath hung in large white clouds in front of him. Sam struck a match and began lighting the two oil heaters he kept there. He stood around one, rubbing his hands together in its orange, toasty glow. Betsey the cow and Buster the mule seemed to welcome the light and warmth. Sam fed them. Soon they were full and warm, and ready for a long winter's night sleep.

Sam opened the barn door and walked outside. Snowflakes danced around him and he remembered when he was a boy running around in the snow trying to catch the snowflakes on his tongue. He had the crazy thought of trying it again right then but just knew old lady Crowder, his neighbor down the road, who seemed to know all they did, was even then watching at her window.

As Sam walked back toward the house, the snow crunching under his feet, he noticed some little sparrows perched on the bare limbs of the pear tree he had planted a few years ago. The bitter wind ruffled the feathers of the birds who seemed frozen to the limb. Other sparrows had fallen to the ground and were flopping around there. Sam knew they would soon die without shelter and food.

"Poor little sparrows," Sam said out loud. "If only I could help you." Sam walked slowly toward them. "I know, I'll put you in the barn," he said softly to them. "You will be safe and warm there." Sam tried to catch the birds but they were afraid of this giant creature. They would not let him get close enough to catch them. They did not understand that he was only trying to help them.

"If only I could become one of them," Sam thought. "If only I could become a sparrow, then I could tell them. Then I could show them what to do. I could lead them to shelter and safety."

Suddenly the air seemed alive with music. The bells from the church steeple were echoing through the night, announcing the arrival of Christmas. Sam felt his heart strangely warmed. He stood there watching the birds, the bells still ringing in his ears, and for the first time he began to understand Christmas. Warm tears began to flow down his cheeks and he knelt in the snow and prayed:

O, Lord, now I think I understand. In the Christ Child you became one of us. It was the only way. We were like cold, hungry sparrows. You became one of us to help us, to show us the way, just like I wanted to become one of the sparrows to help them. Forgive me. I did not understand. Now I will follow You into the warmth and shelter of Your barn.

Sam stood up and turned to look at the sparrows. He hated to leave them like this. "Christ Child, help me know what to do," he prayed. And Sam had an idea. he went into the barn and came out with a sack of seed. He threw some of the seed onto the snow, making a trail of seed leading right into the barn. Then he hid and watched.

Slowly, one sparrow flew to the seed and began to eat. Then another. And another. Soon all the sparrows had eaten their way right into the barn. Sam quickly shut it and peeped through a crack into the barn. The birds seemed frightened and confused at first, but soon soared to the barn rafters and perched there, full and warm. Sam smiled.

The people in the church were softly singing "Silent Night." Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air from the back of the church. Everyone turned and there was Sam with a look of radiant joy on his face, walking down the aisle looking for his family. He found them and gathered them in his arms and began to sing louder than everyone. He had never felt such warmth and peace.

My little sparrows, may you all know the warmth and light of God's barn this Christmas and may you be used to lead others into it with you.