Epiphany 4, Year B (2021)

Deuteronomy 18: 15–20 / Psalm 111 / I Corinthians 8: 1–13 / Mark 1: 21-28

This is the homily prepared for St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker for Sunday, January 31, 2021

“A QUESTION OF AUTHORITY”
(Homily texts: Deuteronomy 18: 15–20  & Mark 1: 21–28)

The design of the lectionary readings is usually one in which the Old Testament reading tracks with the Gospel reading. That is to say, there is some thread that binds the two together. (By contrast, the epistle reading often makes its way through a specific book or letter. In the case of our current lectionary, we’re reading our way through St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.)

The theme that binds our reading from Deuteronomy, which is the last of the first five books of the Old Testament which are ascribed to Moses, and our Gospel text from Mark, chapter one, are tied together with the theme of authority.

Before we look at each text more closely, let’s consider the matter of authority.

Much of what we do in life is governed by the idea of authority, authority being defined as the ability to govern the actions of the members of society or of a group in one way or another. To illustrate the reality of this, consider the matter of speed limits on our roadways: A section of roadway is designated with a certain speed limit, that speed beyond which drivers are not to drive. The authority to set a speed limit is governed by a set of laws, which are established by a government at some level or another. The same could be said of laws regarding the paying of taxes, or laws which govern the transfer of some type of property or another. You get the idea.

In the living of our lives, and in the process of growing up, we encounter authority figures of various types. For example, our parents ought to constitute authority figures, bringing us up to become mature, productive people when we are adults ourselves. It is our parents who influence us the most in our formative years (in most cases), and it is they with whom we associate the most and for much, if not most, of the time as we grow from infancy through childhood to maturity. Other authority figures might be a teacher, a coach on a sports team we were a part of, or some other mentoring figure, to cite a few.

Authority, properly understood, is derived from somewhere or someone else. Oh yes, down through history, there’ve been those who’ve declared themselves to be authorities. Dictators fall into this category. We know what happens to many of those. But those in authority whom we hold in high regard make it clear that their leadership and their position in the scheme of things was due to some source outside themselves. And, they usually made it clear that their authority was exercised for the benefit of others, and not for themselves.

Continuing with the idea just articulated, authority can come in more than one form.

One form of authority is the type that says, “I’m in charge” or “I’m more powerful than you are”.  For although there might be occasions for asserting that sort of power or leadership, that sort of authority isn’t always the most effective type, for it can breed resentment and even rebellion in those who are being governed or led. In my humble estimation, authority of this type is best exercised with extreme care and sparingly.

Another form of authority, the much more effective type, is the type that exemplifies concern and care for those being governed or led. We could call this type of authority the “servant-leadership” model. Good governmental leaders are those who abide by that sort of exercise of their offices. For example, elected officials usually take an oath to abide by the Constitution of the nation or of the state in which they serve. They do this because the Constitution is meant to govern their actions, for the welfare of all the citizens or residents. In the secular realm of government and governing, the operative principle is one of “consent of the governed”.

Let’s return to the second model of authority, the one that is of the “servant-leader” variety, for this is the model we see in Jesus Christ. It is on display in our Gospel reading for today, and we sense it in Moses’ words, recorded in the book of Deuteronomy.

In Deuteronomy, Moses tells God’s people that God will raise up prophets like he, himself, has been. Moses’ authority stems from God’s call, and it is confirmed in his faithful leadership of God’s people, leadership that imposed burdens on him, and which often brought him into some form of peril or another. (Oftentimes, we see servant-leader form of authority in the risks and the burdens that such leaders are willing to undertake for the sake of those being led.)

Now, we can turn to our appointed reading from Mark.

We read that Jesus is in the synagogue in Capernaum, where He is teaching. Notice two things that Mark tells us about this aspect of Jesus’ activity there: The first thing we notice is that He is teaching. Teaching is given for the benefit of others, those who listen and learn. We also notice is that His teaching has a unique ring of authority about it, an authority that isn’t like that of the scribes. We’re not exactly sure why Jesus’ listeners would have come to the conclusion that His teaching was different from that of the scribes, although we can guess that it was because Jesus didn’t continually refer to the teachings of Moses, as they are found in Torah. Jesus may have referred, instead, to the Father’s authority (if we are to evaluate the record of Jesus’ teachings as they are recorded in the four Gospel accounts).

The second thing we notice is that Jesus demonstrates authority over an unclean spirit, for the spirit says to Him, “I know who you are – the holy one of God.” Jesus commands the unclean spirit to come out of the man, and it does, in deference to Jesus’ authority. This incident tells us two things: The first is that the forces of evil that are opposed to the things of God recognize God’s power and authority. (This is, I believe, an enormous source of comfort to us as Christian believers, that we know that God’s power is sovereign in all things, even over the powers of evil.) The second thing to notice is that the evil spirit has taken control of the possessed man not for the man’s own welfare, but for the benefit of the evil spirit. That sort of possession is of the abusive authoritative model we considered a little while ago.

How then do we relate to an authority figure, one of the “servant-leader” model, one that we see in God the Father, and in God the Son, Jesus Christ?

Perhaps one thought would be that it is the Father and the Son who invite us into relationship. They do not command us to come into relationship. Another thought might be that they each have demonstrated their love, care and concern for us:  The Father, by his creation of the world, and in upholding it, so that we might enjoy the blessings of life; and the Son, in His coming into our human existence to take up our humanity, even to the point of sharing in a death that we each will experience at some point or another.

For all the authority, power, majesty and might that God possesses, and which the Father has delegated to the Son, it is they who voluntarily will to relate to us human beings, now and for all time, and into eternity.

Hallelujah!    AMEN.

Epiphany 3, Year B (2021)

Jonah 3: 1–5, 10 / Psalm 62: 6–14 / I Corinthians 7: 29–31 / Mark 1: 14-20

This is the homily prepared for St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker for Sunday, January 24, 2021.

“DROP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING”
(Homily texts: Jonah 3: 1–5, 10 & Mark 1: 14–20)

God’s call to a specific work or ministry can take various forms. One who is heading toward ordination, or is already ordained, many times the question is often asked, “Tell us about your call to ministry.” Of course, the same thing can be said about any sort of ministry that God calls His people to be about, not just ordained ministry. (At this point, I can’t resist saying that all ministries are critical to the advancement of God’s kingdom, no matter what they are, lay ministries or ordained ones. All are of equal importance, even if we may tend to focus more on ordained ministry.)

At times, God’s call can come over a period of years, perhaps shaping and molding the person being called as time passes. That’s one way we see God’s call at work. Such a call often takes shape over a period of time, during which the person contemplates how the ministry to which they are being called might take shape, or how it might be adapted to a specific set of circumstances, circumstances which might change as the period of discernment unfolds. An example of this might be the person who feels called to start a specific ministry of establishing a church-based feeding ministry. Time and the work of the Holy Spirit might shape the final form of the ministry as various aspects of God’s vision for the ministry fall into place, one at a time. (OK, at this point, I’ll ask, “Is God calling you to a specific ministry you’ve not already undertaken in your life?” That’s an important question to pay attention to, I think.)

Sometimes, God’s call comes with urgency, but it comes more than once. That’s the situation with Jonah, who was told by God to go to Ninevah. You may remember that, in response to this call, Jonah got onto a ship and headed west toward Tarshish (the Old Testament name for Spain). You’ll recall the story that the ship flounders in a great storm, and Jonah is thrown overboard. After spending some time in the belly of a great fish, Jonah is expelled onto the shore, whereupon God calls again, telling Jonah to go east to Ninevah. This second time that God calls, as today’s passage alludes to, Jonah gets the message and goes to Ninevah.

At other times, God’s call comes, and it produces an immediate response on the part of the individual. Our reading from Mark’s Gospel account presents us with an immediate and urgent call to work in service to God, Jesus’ call to four of His disciples: Simon (also known, later on, as Peter) and his brother Andrew, and the two sons of Zebedee, James and John.

Notice the word immediate. It’s one of Mark’s favorite words (along with the word amazed). Mark says that these four men immediately responded to Jesus’ call to become His disciples, because He was going to make them “fish for people”. We get the impression that the four said “goodbye” to their families and to their family businesses (fishing) that they’d been engaged in.

Once they had said “yes” to the Lord’s call, their lives completely changed. A new course lay ahead of them, one that would give meaning and purpose to their lives that they could never have imagined, for they were laying the foundations for a new way of relating to God. Nothing short of that statement would come close to describing the plans that God had in mind for each one of them. A new, great and glorious thing was unfolding, and God had a plan for each one of them to play in making that happen. Of course, all of us who have come to faith, down through the centuries, are the beneficiaries of their “yes” to God.

It’s a certainty that God will call each of us to some sort of a ministry as our lives unfold. After all, Baptism itself is a call to ministry, a call to put God’s place in our lives in first place.

Some other ingredients are necessary, I think, for God’s call to be heard and responded do. Off the top of my head, here are some suggestions:

The work of the Holy Spirit: The Spirit plays a crucial role, working in our hearts and minds, preparing us to see God’s vision for God’s plans for us. The Spirit is often at work long before we are aware of this phase of preparation. The technical term for this sort of God’s grace is prevenient grace, that grace that “comes before” (the root meaning of prevenient) we are aware of it.

The counsel of other believing Christians: What others see in us as gifts can be a valuable tool for helping us to see what gifts we have to offer God. After all, if we feel we are being called to a ministry, but it’s clear that we don’t have the gifts necessary for that ministry, then it’s a strong possibility that we’re not hearing God calling us at all.

 A critical self-assessment:  The preceding paragraph which talks about the gifts and abilities that others see in us links to this part of discerning God’s call: Our own assessment of our own gifts, or lack of gifts. This aspect of seeing the nature of God’s call demands extreme honesty, and the ability to see ourselves as accurately and completely as we are able to, asking ourselves honestly what things we do well, what things we don’t do well, and what things we have little or no talent to do.

The willingness to set aside our plans and our agenda for God’s:  Here we come back to the Jonah account, and to our Gospel account, where each one called responds, setting aside whatever plans they had had until God called them, in order to take up what God had in mind. That’s going to involve change, perhaps major change.

May we, when God calls (for it’s sure that He will), we will offer our “yes” to Him.

AMEN.

Epiphany 2, Year B (2021)

I Samuel 3:1 – 20 / Psalm 139:1 – 5, 12 – 17 / I Corinthians 6:12 – 20 / John 1:43 – 51

This is the homily prepared for St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker for Sunday, January 17, 2021.

“I WILL GIVE YOU AS A LIGHT TO THE NATIONS”

(Isaiah 49:6b)

(Disclaimer notice: Normally, I compose a homily based on the Gospel reading appointed for the day, or perhaps both the Gospel and the Old Testament readings. But today, I write in the wake of the mayhem that took place at the U.S. Capitol building last Wednesday, January 6th. As a result of that attack on this sacred space, the threads of our nation’s fabric have been strained. They might even be a bit torn. I write as an observer of these things, as an observer of our social and spiritual health, and as an American citizen who cares deeply for this country and its welfare, but also as a person of faith. In my writing, I will attempt to steer clear of partisanship and politics…you know that I strive to keep such things out of our parish’s life. What I write here is composed with the goal of prompting your own responses and reflections, that each of us might allow the light of God, made known through Jesus Christ, shine brightly into a dark and darkened world. May that goal be attained, through God’s grace.)

“May you live in interesting times.” So states the familiar saying. Perhaps, in the wake of the violence that took place on January 6th, and in the wake of the violence and rioting that have affected so many of our nation’s cities and communities in the last six months or so, we might amend that saying to put the truth of the matter this way: “We live in difficult, uncertain and perilous times.” Indeed, I believe, we do live in such times.

Not that we haven’t been in such places before in our nation’s history. One such example comes from my early days in Washington, D.C., where I was stationed in the Army. I recall vividly the anti-war protests during the Vietnam War era. They were massive, although they seemed to differ from our recent upheavals in the amount of property damage that resulted (if my memory serves me correctly).

Our Lord stated a truth about human nature. He said, “…what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person.” (Matthew 15:18) Here we have an essential truth: A person’s speech and a person’s actions arise from the heart, from the innermost parts of a person’s imagination and thought. A look into the thinking and imagining that people engage in might be a good place to start, if we are to understand where such destructive impulses originate.

Violence! We live, today, in a culture and in a society that is immersed in violent images. Our movies, television shows and video games are filled with images of graphic violence. It can be enlightening to watch some of the movies from a bygone age on the old movie channels on television. Overall, one comes away from watching them with the impression that they upheld moral behavior and values that built up society. Even when an old movie depicted violence, it was, generally, with the goal of illustrating what such behavior does to people.

We know we “are what we eat” (to cite another old saying). We know that when we indulge in a poor diet, one filled with food that had little nutritional value, or one that is genuinely harmful, our health will suffer. But do we think about what happens to our mental health when we fill our minds and imaginations with the visual equivalence of junk food?

Personal liberty run amok:  We Americans value our individual liberties and constitutionally-guaranteed rights, and well we should. (It can be an eye-opening experience to go to a part of the world where such guarantees don’t exist.) But our personal liberties have taken on an aura of personal license to do whatever one wants. Aided by the values of postmodernism, which exalts the centrality of the individual, and which views any authority outside of the self with suspicion (it is from such a place that conspiracy theories abound, oftentimes), the individual feels empowered to put themselves and their own welfare ahead of the welfare of others, or of society.

As I survey our society, I believe these two threads are a key part of the underlying strata which forms the foundation for widespread violence, destruction and misbehavior. (Undoubtedly, there are others.)

Now, with the events of January 6^th still in view, we know that such violence and lawlessness can come from any quarter of the political spectrum.

I began this homily with a quote from the Old Testament prophet Isaiah: “I will give you as a light to the nations….” Isaiah was writing to God’s people in trying times, a time when many of them had been deported to Babylon and were living in exile. But God told His people that they were going to go home, not for the purpose of their own welfare alone, not so that they could enjoy being in their own place and land, but for the welfare of the world in general.

Today, you and I, as Christian believers, constitute the New Israel. And it might seem as though we’re in exile, looking in on a world gone awry, a world which doesn’t seem to want to heed God’s voice, nor to live according to God’s wishes.

But to us, God says today, “I am giving you as a light to the nations.”

How so?

The early Christians prevailed over the Greco-Roman world and the Roman Empire by wielding the power of love. Of the early Christians, onlookers would say, “See how those Christians love each other.” Today, we are called to show by our actions what we harbor in our hearts, returning to our Lord’s instruction in Matthew chapter fifteen, cited above.

We can begin by remembering that each and every individual person is a child of God, a person who’s been uniquely created by God, and who is loved by God. No matter what that person says, does or how they act, that truth stands.

If we believe this truth, then, we are called to reach out in love, eschewing any radical approaches to belief or debate. We are called not to engage in any form of violence, whether that violence comes by actions, or by words. We are called to respectfully treat others and to listen to them in love, even if what they say or do is deeply offensive. How else will we ever dissuade such persons from their beliefs, if we don’t do that? Arguing or maintaining extreme positions won’t carry the day, I wager.

As Episcopalians, inheritors of the Anglican way of being a Christian, we are uniquely situated to live out this way of being, for our way of being a Christian values moderation. And in addition, this way of being a follower of Jesus Christ values tolerance for widely differing perspectives. We always have maintained those values (although in recent times, they have been threatened in our own faith community). Perhaps it’d be a good thing to rediscover our roots, those roots which uphold tolerance and moderation.

And, as citizens of this wonderful country, it might also be a good thing if we were to uphold honesty in government and in governing, and to stand against the political extremes which seem to dominate so much of  our political discourse these days.

In times of darkness, and in such a time as this, when there is no shortage of darkness, the light of Christ must shine brightly and steadily. It will shine when God’s people, each one of us, lights Christ’s candle, kindled in our hearts. Together, the brightness of each flame will push back the present darkness. To this we are called.

The Collect appointed for this day is quite suitable to what we’ve been saying:

“Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory, that he may be known, worshipped and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever. Amen.” 

Book of Common Prayer, 1979, page 215

 

         

Epiphany 1, Year B (2021)

The Baptism of Our Lord Jesus Christ                  

Genesis 1: 1–5 / Psalm 29 / Acts 19: 1–7 / Mark 1: 4–11

This is the homily prepared for St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker for Sunday, January 10, 2021.

“WHAT DO WE REMEMBER?”

(Homily text: Mark 1: 4-11)

Each and every one of us carries with us certain memories and memorable events, things that have happened to us as we’ve made our way through life. These memories and the events connected to them have the power to shape our lives, and they have the power to fashion what the future might look like. Of course, it goes without saying that memories and events can be both positive and negative.

In this sense, then, memories and the events connected to them have the power to “re-member” for us. That is to say, they “put together again as if it were the first time” (an original meaning of the word) the power of the original event.

Now, moving into the sphere of faith, let’s ask ourselves this question: “How much can I remember about my baptism, and how much do I remember about my faith journey and my coming to the point of believing?”

The question is an appropriate one, for on the First Sunday after the Epiphany each year, we hear and consider the account of our Lord Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist. (This year, since we are in Year B of our three-year lectionary cycle, we hear Mark’s account of that event.)

Both events, our baptisms and our faith journey, have the power to “re-member” (to put together again just like the first time) our lives in the present and in the future.

I suspect that most of us can’t remember our baptisms, because, again, many of us were baptized as infants or as very young children. To remember that event, we must rely on the witness of those who were there: Parents, Godparents and friends and relatives. Of course, it’s a different story entirely if we were baptized at a later time in life, a time when we were aware of things and when we had the ability to experience and recall things that have come our way. In such cases, it’s likely that we had already come to faith (or, at least some measure of faith) before we’d made the decision to be baptized.

Having mentioned faith, it should be clear that faith and baptism are connected. In truth, we can’t have one without the other, not really. Those who were baptized at a later time in life have already made the connection, as we said a moment ago. Those who were baptized as infants or as very young children have a different journey of faith, for they come to know the Lord personally (which is the goal of each path where baptism and faith are concerned) after their baptisms. It’s for this reason that the baptismal rite asks the parents, Godparents and others to make solemn promises to God that they will do their part to bring up the child they are presenting for baptism to come to know the Lord, so that when the time comes for that young person to come to faith, they’ll have all the tools necessary to do so. Absent the faith component, baptism simply becomes an empty rite, something we do just because we’ve always done it. In such cases, baptism is robbed of its power to shape our walk with God.

“Re-membering” is key, if we are to allow the power of something as wonderful as baptism, and as wonderful as our coming to faith in the Lord, things that happened in the past, to carry us forward into the future.

Where baptism is concerned, the essential meaning of the Sacrament can assist us as the Holy Spirit (whom, we believe is given in a unique way in baptism) guides and enlightens us. Baptism signifies a death and a rising to new life. (See St. Paul’s explanation of this in Romans 6: 3–9.) Water is the outward and visible sign in the Sacrament of baptism. Water has the power to destroy life, but water is also essential for life to exist, so it's a perfect agent to carry the meaning of baptism. Water also has the power to cleanse, another aspect of baptism.

“Re-membering” will be a more difficult process for those of us who have to rely on the witness of others who were present at our baptisms, if we are to capture and re-capture the significance of being baptized. But we can still appropriate its meaning for us, if we will remember that we’ve said “goodbye” to things that are not of God in life, in order to greet with joy the fullness of life as God intends for each and every person. For, in truth, true joy, true meaning in life can only be found when we have a lively and ongoing love affair with God through Jesus Christ.

“Re-membering” is a daily activity, one we consciously engage in, reaching back into our life’s history to see God at work, as God reshapes and molds us more and more, over time, into His image and likeness. In this process, we say “goodbye” to ungodly things, in order to embrace the godly things that our Lord wishes for us. At times, this will be a struggle, for though we’ve passed through the waters of baptism, and though we’ve been forgiven of the stain of original sin (another meaning of baptism), we are still living life in this life, which means we’ve subject to the pull and the attraction of ungodly stuff in the world, stuff that surrounds us daily.

May the Holy Spirit, given in a special way at baptism, guide, protect, enlighten and empower us to “re-member” our baptisms, for we’ve passed from death into life.

AMEN.

Christmas 2, Year B (2021)

Jeremiah 31: 7–14 / Psalm 84: 1–8 / Ephesians 1: 3–6, 15–19a / Matthew 2: 13–15, 19–23  

This is the homily prepared for St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, by Fr. Gene Tucker for Sunday, January 3, 2021.

“THE WIND BLOWS, BUT THE LIGHT OF THE CANDLE REMAINS”
(Homily text: Matthew 2: 13–15, 19-23)

In my childhood, we lived for awhile in North Platte, Nebraska. We’d moved there from the eastern part of the state, and one of the differences in the two places that sticks in my memory to this day was the fierceness of the cold, bitter and unrelenting winter winds, which blew out of the northwest. I guess it didn’t help that our house was located on the northwest side of town, and, to add to the situation, there were very few trees or other buildings to slow down or block that wind. The wind blew, uprooting the many tumbleweeds that grew in that part of the country. As a reminder of the wind’s power, those weeds would spend a long time trapped against the fences where the wind had driven them for quite awhile after the wind had subsided a bit.

Our Gospel text appointed for this morning relates the coldness of the threatening winds of the time in which our Lord Jesus Christ came to take up our human condition. In the specific set of circumstances that Matthew relates to us in his Gospel account, we read this morning the account of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt to escape the cold and threatening wind of King Herod the Great’s intent to kill the Christ child.

(At this juncture, it might be worthwhile remembering what we know about Herod, who ruled the Holy Land as a puppet king under Roman rule from 37 – 4 B.C. Josephus, the first century historian, tells us a lot about Herod’s ways, for Herod dealt with any threat to his position and power in ruthless fashion, even to the point of dealing harshly with his own immediate family. So the slaughter of the baby boys in Bethlehem [1], all those two years old and younger, fits quite easily with Herod’s ways.)

In order to preserve the light of God that Jesus’ advent into the world indicated, the Holy Family fled to Egypt. When Herod was dead, they were informed that it was safe to return, which they did, settling in Nazareth, a town in Galilee in the northern part of the Holy Land.[2]

The cold and threatening winds which conspired to snuff out God’s light, made known in Jesus Christ, didn’t abate with Herod the Great’s, or his son’s, intent.

As Jesus’ earthly ministry unfolded, other breezes would blow, originating from the chief priests, the Pharisees and the Scribes. These conspired to snuff out God’s light in the events that unfolded on Good Friday.

But God’s candle, Jesus Christ, continued to shine, as God raised Him from the dead on Easter Sunday morning.

Now, in the fulness of time, you and I bear the light of Christ to a darkened world, a world in which fierce and cold winds threaten to extinguish that light. In our own time this year, we’ve endured the closure of our parish due to the COVID-19 virus, first for ten weeks in Lent and Eastertide, and now again from late November into the present. How do we keep the light of Christ shining in such a difficult time? One way is to maintain the faith once delivered to the saints, that same light that people of faith have maintained throughout the centuries. We do this by maintaining our study of the Word, and our participation in the sacramental life of the Church (remember that drive-thru communion is available every Sunday!). These are two ways we keep filling the reservoir of faith that allows the light to shine brightly from the lamp that each one of us is called to carry by virtue of our baptisms.

But we also bear that light by pushing back against the darkness, and by shielding people who’ve been harmed by the massive closures and shutdowns that have come about due to the viral outbreak. (Allow me to say, at this juncture, that I remain adamantly opposed to such closures and shutdowns, for quite a number of reasons.) The side effects of these disruptions to normal life have resulted in hardship, hunger, an increase in domestic violence, increases in suicide and depression, and perhaps sometime soon, massive numbers of evictions of renters who cannot pay rent. We step forward into the breach for those who cannot feed themselves (our Little Free Pantry has seen an enormous increase in donations from the community, and withdrawals from it, in recent days), and we offer financial support to the local food pantry, to the Community Soup Kitchen (which offers a free, hot meal to anyone in need), and to other needs in the local community and beyond.

Whenever the flame begins to waver as the cold winds of the world around us begin to pick up, we are to shield the light that our individual candles emanates, pushing back the darkness, and we lift it high so that its light will shine further into the hopelessness and darkness that surrounds us.

AMEN.

           

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[1]   The killing of the babies is remembered on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, observed on December 28^th each year.

[2]   One of Herod’s sons, Herod Archelaus, reigned in the southern part of the Holy Land (Judea, Samaria and Idumea) following the death of his father. He ruled from 4 B.C – 6 A.D. Because it was possible that Archelaus harbored the same intent toward Jesus that his father had shown, the family went north into Galilee, beyond Archelaus’ reach.