The Christmas narrative, much like a poorly-made crime drama with a readily identifiable antagonist—the unshaven man with a thick accent—features a clear villain. It’s not Joseph, who only believed Mary after a divine dream. Nor is it the innkeeper, whose refusal of lodging might be a simple misunderstanding. The true antagonist, subtly present throughout the story, is Herod the Great.
Modern scholars possess considerable knowledge of Herod the Great, largely due to the writings of the Judaean historian Josephus, who had access to royal records. The Roman Emperor Augustus bestowed upon Herod the title “King of the Judaeans,” despite Herod’s incomplete Jewish heritage. Rome favored this strategy of seemingly civilized rule by employing local strongmen to carry out its less palatable tasks. Herod was simply the most successful military leader in the region.
Initially, Rome granted Herod control over Jerusalem and Galilee, gradually expanding his dominion. While some significant cities maintained independence, Herod’s 30-year reign was marked by a relentless pursuit of a policy resembling “Make Judaea Great Again.”
In a sense, he succeeded. He oversaw the rebuilding of the Temple, making it more magnificent than ever. This was part of his strategy to legitimize himself and his heirs as the true “Kings of the Judaeans,” drawing on ancient prophecies that identified the Temple-builder as the king who would prepare Jerusalem for God’s glorious return. He also significantly invested in Judaean communities across the Mediterranean.
Through his multiple marriages, he founded a dynasty lasting half a century, although it existed in a precarious balance with Roman authority. He was a prolific builder. Today’s pilgrims to the Holy Land are often surprised by the numerous impressive structures attributed to Herod. His innovative engineering developed the port of Caesarea Maritima, transforming it into a major Mediterranean trade hub, generating substantial economic growth through tariffs.
However, his rule was tyrannical, earning him widespread fear and hatred. On his deathbed, he ordered the execution of prominent figures to ensure widespread mourning rather than celebration—an order thankfully revoked after his death.
Matthew’s Gospel account of a violent reaction to the rumor of a newborn king aligns with Herod’s typical behavior: to eliminate the potential threat, he ordered the slaughter of Bethlehem’s male infants. This was his customary method of maintaining power.
Matthew’s inclusion of this story transcends mere dramatic effect. His Gospel highlights a stark contrast in models of kingship. Jesus’ kingdom-manifesto (the Sermon on the Mount) emphasizes God’s restorative work through the meek, the mourners, the justice-seeking, and the peacemakers. Even when John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin, expresses doubt, Jesus points not to conquered territories or constructed buildings, but to the healing of the lame and blind.
This represents a different kind of kingdom, a different kind of king. When Jesus’ closest advisors seek high positions in his nascent administration, he rebukes them, asserting that worldly power dynamics don’t apply; the first will be last, and the last first. True greatness lies in service. Jesus’ path to power culminated in a brutal Roman crucifixion.
This echoes significant themes of kingship from Israelite scripture. Psalm 72, for instance, depicts a future king who champions the poor and needy, showing compassion for the weak, and rescuing the oppressed. Other scriptures emphasize caring for widows, orphans, and strangers. This, they assert, is how divine glory would permeate the world. Herod the Great seemingly failed to grasp these lessons. But they formed the foundation of Jesus’ life, beginning with his family’s flight to Egypt to escape Herod’s agents.
Many children participate in Christmas pageants. The narrative of Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, and the Magi from the East is often the focus. Skeptics dismiss it as fiction, while believers affirm the existence of astronomers who might have interpreted celestial events to indicate the arrival of a new king.
However, Matthew’s original audience would have understood the central point: two contrasting approaches to power—Herod’s and Jesus’. Those celebrating Christmas amidst global power struggles should consider Matthew’s account of Jesus, from the initial conflict with Herod to the final declaration that all authority in heaven and earth now resides, in a radically transformed form, with him.
The modern church readily accepts Jesus’ heavenly authority. However, we are still grappling with the implications of Jesus—the Jesus of the humble birth in Bethlehem, of the Sermon on the Mount—possessing earthly authority.
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