"MATTHEW QUOTES JEREMIAH TO MAKE CLEAR THAT BETHLEHEM REFUSED THE COMFORT OF THE GOSPEL BECAUSE OF SELF-PITY."

Singing: (Psalms and Hymns are from the "Book of Praise" Anglo Genevan Psalter)
Psalm 30:1,3
Hymn 11:1
Psalm 142:1,4,6
Hymn 43:1,2,3
Psalm 86:1,6

Beloved Congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ!

Comfort. We’re always looking for comfort. The lives that we’re given to lead are fraught with so many concerns, so many frustrations. It matters not of what nature the concern is; always we find ourselves searching for comfort. So we come to church; we understand well that here the Lord would encourage us by His Word, would comfort us as we travel the road of life.

Yet, brothers and sisters, it’s clear that to be comforted one must also wish to be comforted. There is no comfort for the person who somehow delights in his discomfort. That lack of desire to be comforted may be called the ‘Rachel Syndrome’; Rachel bewailed the passing of her children, but refused to be comforted. And because she was not willing to be comforted, all the preaching of the gospel in the world would help her nothing; Rachel closed out the comfort of the gospel, and so remained in her tears.

After Herod sent his soldiers to slaughter the baby boys of Bethlehem, that town too heard wailing and loud lamentation. But the Lord was not impressed with this weeping; He prompted His servant Matthew to quote from the prophecies of Jeremiah, and so tell the people of Bethlehem that they cut themselves off from any comfort. That reference to Jeremiah in the context of Bethlehem’s mourning is included in the Bible for our instruction. The end of the ages has come upon us; it is for us, says the Lord, to let ourselves be comforted day by day in the difficulties God in His wisdom brings upon us. The ‘Rachel Syndrome’, as manifested by Rachel and repeated in our text, is not to be ours.

I preach to you today the Word of our God, and use this theme:

1. the background of the quote
2. the content of the quote
3. the lesson of the quote

The Background of the Quote

The evangelist Matthew wrote his gospel for Jewish Christians. Their lives as Jews-become-Christians was not altogether easy; they were seen as traitors to the true Jewish cause.

For the advantage of these Jews, Matthew records an event that has not been recorded elsewhere in Scripture. Wise men, he reports, came from the east to greet the newborn King of the Jews. When they told Herod of the birth of a King among the Jews, his response was a hellish hatred; he would destroy this King before He had a chance to threaten his throne. The wise men, however, had departed without telling him precisely where he could find the newborn King, and so Herod in wicked rage gave orders to his soldiers to kill every male child in Bethlehem and the surrounding district that was two years of age and under.

We do not know how many children lost their lives to Herod’s fury. Given the small size of the town of Bethlehem, as well as the high infant mortality rate of the time, scholars conclude that somewhere between 20 and 30 young boys may have perished. Be that as it may, we can well understand that the sword of the hated Herod caused deep grief in the homes of the dead. For sons are sons.

Matthew was aware of these events in Bethlehem. Prompted by the Spirit of God, he wrote them down for the benefit of the church of all ages. But Matthew was not satisfied with recording what Herod did to these infants and toddlers in Bethlehem; the Holy Spirit moved him also to place a connection between this tragic event and a specific prophecy of Jeremiah many years ago. So Matthew writes in our text: "Then was fulfilled what was spoken...." Somehow, then, this massacre includes the fulfilment of Jeremiah’s prophecy of so long ago.

We wonder: what is the connection between the massacre in Bethlehem and the prophecy of Jeremiah? Does the connection lie in the fact that the fathers and mothers of Bethlehem mourned for their slaughtered children? But if the connection is simply in the fact of the mourning, why is this text quoted from Jeremiah? Jeremiah, after all, is known as the prophet of sorrow; he even wrote the book of Lamentations. So there are scores of other references to mourning that could be used. Jer 9, for example: "0 that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!" Why does Matthew not say that this text is fulfilled? Why does he mention the one he does? Besides, what does Rachel have to do with Bethlehem? Rachel, we know, was the mother of Joseph and Benjamin. But Bethlehem lay in the heart of the territory of Judah, a son of Rachel’s sister Leah. Why should Matthew, under the guidance of the Lord’s Spirit, choose a text that refers specifically to Rachel?

To appreciate why Matthew claims that this specific text is fulfilled, brothers and sisters, we shall have to understand what Jeremiah meant in the prophecy Matthew quotes. Yet as it turns out, before we can adequately understand Jeremiah and his reference to Rachel, we shall first have to understand what the Lord reveals to us about Rachel. And that takes us back to Genesis.

Rachel. She was the woman Jacob loved, the one for whom he ended up working 14 years to receive her hand in marriage. But Rachel was barren. Sister Leah, meanwhile, the one with the weak eyes, bore to Jacob a row of four sons. And that was something that aroused the jealousy of Rachel. So we read that "when Rachel saw that she bore Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister" - Gen 30 (vs la). But the root of Rachel’s envy was not just disappointment because she received no children. No, Rachel was caught up in a web of self-pity; she felt sorry for herself because her sister could do more than she. Hence her desperate cry to Jacob: "Give me children, or else I die!" (Gen 30:lb). Rachel’s life was a life of sorrow, a life of tears, because she was sorry for herself; children she wanted, that she might not be less than Leah. Her life was tears, because she was obsessed with herself and her barrenness. She didn’t want comfort because her vision was restricted to herself, didn’t want comfort because she pitied herself. "Give me children, or else I die" is not the language of faith, is not the language of the child of God who has God in the centre of his being; it’s instead the language of the individual focused on the self.

That Rachel indeed did focus her life around herself is evident also from her response when her maid Bilhah bore a son for her. Said Rachel (it’s Gen 30:6): "God has judged my case, and He has heard my voice and given me a son." Read those words again, beloved: "God has judged my case…, and He’s given me.…" You hear it; me, the self: that’s central to Rachel. She does not give thanks to God that another covenant child is born, a child for the promise. Nor does she praise God for undeserved mercies; no, ‘God has judged my case...," He’s acquitted me for given me...." And when Bilhah bore a second son, Rachel crows that she has wrestled mightily with her sister and has prevailed (vs 8). Again, she concentrates attention on herself. She was consoled in her grief, because things unfolded in a way pleasing to her; she received offspring. And that made her laugh. Her self-pity made way for a feeling of superiority.

After Leah had borne two more sons for Jacob, "God remembered Rachel, and God listened to her and opened her womb. And she conceived and bore a son, and said ‘God has taken away my reproach’" (30:22f). But her selfishness received expression in the name she gave to her first-born: "she called his name ‘Joseph’, saying, ‘May the LORD add to me another son.’" With the birth of Joseph, her tears were stopped, her grief was turned to gladness, but she was not quickly content. For the sake of her own name, she wanted more.

And see: the Lord was pleased to hear her prayer; He granted another pregnancy. On the trip from Padan Aram back to the Promised Land, in the vicinity of Bethel, "when there was but a little distance to go to Ephrath, Rachel laboured in childbirth, and she had hard labour" (Gen 35:16). So hard, in fact, that the birth of her youngest cost her her life. But before she passed on, she heard the announcement of the mid-wife; "Do not fear; you will have this son also." But the announcement of another covenant child for husband Jacob did not fill her with gratitude –now there were twelve sons, a full number- no, she died voicing her frustrations and tears: "Ben-oni," she said. Ben-oni: ‘son of my sorrow’. She bore a son, but she spoke not of gratitude; she departed from this life with bitterness on her lips. Sorrow, affliction, my affliction –‘Ben-oni’- that’s all she could think of. She did not die comforted by the knowledge that she bore another son, another potential father for the Saviour of the world; she died in the grief that she could not enjoy the full life of contented motherhood with a row of sons of which to be proud. Her life was tears; her death was tears. And all because she was concerned not for the glory of God so much as for her own glory, her own happiness, her own comfort. Because she was self-centred in her hopes and dreams, she could only die uncomforted. Yes, because of her self-centredness, she refused comfort, including the comfort that was tied up in the promise given to Abraham, Isaac and husband Jacob – this promise: you shall be a blessing to many nations, a blessing through innumerable offspring. She refused comfort because her sights were focused not on the promised blessing, on Jesus Christ; they were instead focused on herself. And that’s why she was inconsolable. Her last word of earth was "Ben-oni": son of my affliction.... The name was in keeping with her outlook on life.

Small wonder that Jacob changed the name of his youngest; Ben-oni became Benjamin. For ‘Ben-oni’ was not the language of faith.

The prophet Jeremiah once heard the sound of lamentation and bitter weeping. He identified this lamentation and weeping as the voice of the inconsolable Rachel; "Rachel," he said, "weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted…."

Jeremiah heard this voice of weeping in the context of the exile of Judah into Babylon. The situation was this: Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, after he had defeated Israel, rounded up the healthiest of the land and collected them in a place called Ramah, intending to march these Israelites from here to Babylon (cf Jer 40:1). Ramah, we would say, was a sort of concentration camp.

Before the march into exile began, the elderly in Israel, the infirm and the poorest, could come to Ramah yet to say good-bye to their departing kinsmen. The farewells were accompanied by tears and wailing; the elderly saw their children being marched into exile, convinced that they would never to see them again.

In this setting, the prophet Jeremiah had to bring the Word of the Lord. But what Jeremiah had to say to the Israelites gathered at Ramah was not comfortless condemnation in the sense of: this is the deserved result of your sins. No, God instructed him to come to Israel with words of comfort. Jeremiah had to tell the people that the Lord who now scattered His people to the ends of the earth would one day gather His people again. So the weeping exiles would one day return to the heights of Zion with singing and rejoicing, and they would be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil; their lives would be like watered gardens, and they would languish no more. Instead of tears, the young maidens would rejoice in dance; instead of grief, the young men and the old would be merry (vs 10ff). For God will remember the covenant He once made with Abraham.

We understand: that promise meant, of course, that sins would be forgiven, and hardened hearts would be softened, for redemption would be given to God’s people. Here was a prophecy of the coming of the Messiah promised long ago, who would work reconciliation between God and His people. So, for the Israelites about to go into exile on account of their sins, as well as for the parents who were to stay behind, this promise of God at Ramah was great news, and ought to be welcomed as such. Forgiveness in the face of sin, restoration in the face of the damnation they earned through transgression; yes, here was gospel, here was the God of grace! Comfort in affliction.

But see: this is not how Israel responded to the gospel of Jeremiah. The prophet preached in the concentration camp at Ramah, but in that concentration camp at Ramah there was not a humbling and a repenting, there is no rejoicing because God promised to forgive and restore. All there was was lamentation and bitter weeping. And it’s not the lamenting and wailing of hearts broken by sin; no, the prophet characterises the weeping in Ramah as tears similar to those of Rachel. Rachel thought about herself, and therefore did not wish to be comforted; in Ramah, Israel was thinking about themselves, about how tragic it was that Jerusalem was overpowered, that families were being broken, that homes had to be left. They wailed and they wept, and they refused all comfort, because they felt sorry for themselves. As Rachel did not wish to be comforted, not even on her death bed, so also the exiles and their families remaining behind did not want to be comforted; indeed, they could not be comforted because they were obsessed with feelings of pity for themselves. That’s the reason why Jeremiah mentioned Rachel in the context of the weeping in Ramah; at the concentration camp of Ramah was an echo of the weeping of Rachel of long ago.

We understand: Israel’s wailing at Ramah was not the cry of faith, but of unbelief. God had announced a return, and that’s why it was not for Israel to wail in self-centred pity on the assumption that this is the end of her offspring, her youth would disappear in exile. No, God had spoken differently. As the tears of Rachel of long ago, so also the weeping of Israel at Ramah was expression of unbelief; they got so mired in themselves that they were blind to the promises, and so refused to be comforted.

Yet the Lord insisted on bringing His gospel of comfort even to Ramah. Though Israel refused to be comforted, the LORD of the covenant still came with His word. "Thus says the LORD, ‘Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for your work shal1 be rewarded, says the Lord, and they shal1 come back from the land of the enemy’" (vs 16). But to receive that reward, and to return from the land of the enemy, that wailing and weeping would have to stop; there had to come an end to this ‘Rachel syndrome’, that self-pity.

The Content of the Quote

Now Matthew writes a gospel, and says that the weeping of the bereaved parents of Bethlehem was fulfilment of the prophecy of Jeremiah. We understand: we need to keep all this background material in mind if we are to understand our text. Matthew writes about Bethlehem, and then quotes that word from Jeremiah: "a voice was heard in Ramah." Ramah was many miles removed from Bethlehem, but this does not stop Matthew from mentioning Ramah because what is happening now in Bethlehem is so similar to what happened in Ramah so long ago. Yes, Matthew mentions Rachel, not because Rachel was physically present on that dark day in Bethlehem to bewail the dead descendants of her sister Leah, but rather because those tears in Bethlehem after that massacre were tears of self-pity – and so the bereaved in Bethlehem refused to be comforted. Each bewailed his dead, and all cried: Ben-oni, Ben-oni, son of my affliction; the thoughts of each were restricted to their personal loss.

Certainly, there were differences in the tears of Rachel in Gen 35, of the exiles in Jer 31, and the parents of Mt 2. Rachel wails in Gen 35, because her children "are no more", and for her they are not because she dies, and can enjoy her children no longer. The people at Ramah wail because their youth "are no more", they’re being led off into exile, nevermore to return. And the parents of Bethlehem mourn over their murdered children because they "are no more"; they’re dead. Yet, despite the differences, the character of their respective mournings remain the same: each is wrapped up with themselves and so refuses to be consoled; none is open to the comfort of God’s promises.

Rachel, the exiles, the parents of Bethlehem: they all shed tears of self-pity; the tears are the same. And yet they’re not. For the prophecy of Jeremiah is fulfilled in Mt 2. Here is the c1imax of the "Rachel syndrome". And why was it the climax? Because of the specific circumstances of the deaths in Bethlehem. Why was it that their children were killed in the first place? It was because of Jesus Christ! In Matthew’s terms, the boys were killed because Herod came to learn that the Christ was born in Bethlehem; the wise men told him. And we need not suppose that the parents had no inkling as to why Herod’s soldiers killed every boy age 2 years and under. They knew of Christ’s birth. Had the shepherds not told of what they heard in the night sky? Besides, we may be assured that the coming of the foreign wise men to this small town did not go unnoticed either. They knew what God had done, what God was doing in this Infant. But the knowledge they received did not meet with faith in their hearts, and so they did not appreciate that behind Herod’ s sword was the effort of Satan to devour the Child as soon as He was brought forth (Rev 12). In Bethlehem was weeping, but there was no perception of the antithesis, no appreciation that here the seed of the serpent was bruising the seed of the woman in an effort to kill her offspring. Here was no active faith, no eye for what God was doing in obtaining redemption. That’s why they wept, and that’s what we have to learn from Matthew’s use of the quotation from Jeremiah.

And because they were not willing to make any sacrifices for that battle did the death of their children hit them so hard. They don’t want a Christ who makes such tough demands on them. They don’t want a Christ who wants men to suffer with Him. And they don’t accept it that their children perish for the sake of this Christ and His kingdom. They want peace, and they’ll follow Christ - provided it costs them nothing. They’ll follow Christ, on the condition that they do not have to give up their children, their houses, their comforts, their delights. Their dead children are Ben-oni, they feel sorry for themselves, because they think that their children are first and foremost for themselves instead of for God and His glory. They wail because they wish to save their lives and they are not willing to loose them for Christ’s sake. And so they refuse to accept comfort.

Here, brothers and sisters, is then unbelief. Though the kingdom of Christ is at hand, yes, at the door, Bethlehem distances itself from the comfort of that kingdom; they bewail the bruising they have received, and refuse the comfort in the gospel of Christ going to the cross, there to crush the head of the seed of the serpent. Certainly, there is a time to mourn. But given that in Christ the ruler had come who would govern God’s people Israel, the time to mourn these children should be quickly replaced by a time to laugh; while the heathen raged and plotted to destroy God’s anointed, God sat in heaven and laughed him to scorn. For His Son was safely on His way to Egypt.

The Lesson of the Quote

Why, my brothers and sisters, is this sad reaction of Bethlehem recorded in God’s Word?

I mentioned already that Matthew wrote his gospel primarily to Jews who had become Christians. Their lives as Jews-become-Christians was not easy; they were looked upon as traitors to the Jewish cause. Well now: by telling them of the reaction of their fellow Jews in Bethlehem to the massacre of their children, Matthew makes clear to his readers that they are to be careful lest they themselves also adopt a Rachel syndrome. Here Matthew gives warning to his readers not to be filled with self-pity at their present difficulties because self-pity puts comfort out of reach.

But then it is clear too, brothers and sisters, that this reference to the words of Jeremiah in our text does not apply only to these Jews. Rather, here is a word from the Lord for the church of al1 ages: always we are to beware lest we, by wrapping ourselves in self-pity, shut ourselves off from the comfort God would give us. Not for nothing has the Saviour told us that "he who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow after Me is not worthy of Me." Indeed, "he who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it" (Mt 10:37ff).

The fact of the matter is that there are many Christians who, despite their profession of faith in the name of Jesus, yet resist being comforted. They do not receive comfort, not because they do not want it; rather, they do not receive comfort because they want it on their own terms. They want comfort, but at the same time want to keep freedom, their possessions, their work, their children. They are reluctant to accept that their sufferings may be necessary for Christ’s sake.

The one is persecuted. And fails to see that that persecution is a satanic effort to destroy the church of Jesus Christ. Because he does not see the further dimension of his suffering, does not see that Christ considers this present difficulty necessary for His church-gathering work, this afflicted believer begins to feel sorry for himself; why should he receive such a rough life? So he places comfort out of his reach.

Another sees his children spiritually dead. And because he cannot see their death in the light of the struggle between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent, he bemoans their death with continual tears; he cannot believe and appreciate that in this way Christ is gathering for Himself praise. And because he cannot see God’s hand in all that happens, he baulks at the rough treatment that he gets; why should other families have everything so easy and pleasant, while he has it so difficult. So he places comfort out of his reach.

Another looses his business, his house, his health. He protests, doesn’t accept that God’s hand is in it. He compares his own misery with the prosperity of others. And his sense of "Poor me" places the comfort of God’s Word out of his reach.

It was long ago that Rachel wept. But the tears of Rachel were repeated in the history of revelation. And they can be repeated –yes, they are repeated- today as well. Whenever anyone is overcome by grief (for whatever reason) –and in response wraps the self in pity- the tears of Rachel flow again; we weep for our children, for whatever reason, and refuse to be consoled, because we perceive that our children are no more.

And we forget that when the Bridegroom is here, we cannot fast. Now is not the time to mourn; now is the time to dance, for the King that Herod sought to destroy has been made by God both Lord and Christ. In the trials He places on our path, He is busy making His kingdom come.

No, the New Jerusalem is not here yet. But today already the tears of the faithful are turned into gladness. For in self-denying faith we understand that not even a hair can fall from our heads unless it serve to our good.

Then our children may die in child-birth. Or we may see our offspring carried off into exile. Or even see them massacred in the struggle between Satan and Christ. But the tears we shed will not be the tears of a Rachel, inconsolable, because our children "are no more". They’ll be tears shed in faith, in the firm conviction that God is "my shelter from the strife, My portion in the land of life" (Ps 142:4 – rhymed).

So today already, tears are wiped away. And mourning turned into gladness. And tomorrow every tear shall be fully gone. For the former things shall be no more.  Amen.