There Is a Little Herod in All of Us - Reflections on Matthew 2:1-12, Year A, Epiphany
by John C. Holbert on Friday, October 31, 2025
That title may sound startling or wretchedly pessimistic or may only be speaking about the writer for today—me—but I think it is at least part of what Matthew had in mind when he composed this unforgettably dramatic tale about the birth of Jesus. Herod the Great ruled Judea on behalf of his Roman masters for nearly four decades, being appointed king in 40BCE and not dying until 4BCE. He was by all accounts a masterful politician, playing both Jews and Romans against each other for his eventual benefit. He built huge projects at Caesarea Maritima (the remains of which today are still quite wonderful), Samaria, and most especially the grand temple of Jerusalem, a vast structure far outstripping the far smaller work of Solomon some 900 years earlier. In addition, he built a massive fortress on Mount Masada, site of a famous massacre of Jews, at least according to Josephus, in the first century CE, and more recently the place from which soldiers from the modern Israeli army receive their final inductions.
Perhaps even more significantly, Herod was a horrible human being, especially cruel to his own family. It is that cruelty that provides the backdrop for the story of Jesus’s birth as constructed by Matthew. The famous “Magi from the East” come first to Jerusalem, Herod’s palace, because they “have seen his star at its rising and have come to pay homage.” More importantly, they are convinced that the child born is “king of the Jews” (Mt.2:2). Well, that hardly sits well with the “real” king of the Jews, namely Herod, and when he hears that claim from the Magi “he was disturbed” (“frightened” says NRSV), but both words chosen do not quite capture the fuller implications. I would suggest that “terrified” is closer to the meaning of the Greek word here. Of course, given what we know about the historical Herod, I doubt that this Magi visit would have caused him to be afraid in any sense, but Matthew is not writing history, but poetic theology. Later, he will depict Pilate as afraid to make a decision concerning the death of Jesus; again the historical Pilate would have had no indecision in the matter at all. He would gladly have sentenced Jesus to death. Herod moves immediately to find out what these Magi are talking about.
He calls to the throne room the “chief priests and scribes” to ask them where they think Messiah was to be born. They quote scripture to answer the king, specifically Micah 5:1 and also 2 Samuel 5:2, both of which speak of Messiah as being a “shepherd” of Israel. Armed with this scriptural proof that Bethlehem is the spot for Messiah’s birth, Herod calls the Magi back “secretly,” we note, and asks them “the time when the star appeared,” seeking as much specificity as possible for him to carry out his plot now forming in his filthy mind. He sends the Magi off to Bethlehem, and “when you have found him, tell me, so that I too might come and pay homage to him” (Mt.2:8). Fat chance! What the old king has in mind is not homage but murder; all would-be kings of the Jews must die at the hands of the only king of the Jews.
The Magi head toward Bethlehem, led by the star. There is no need to join in the chorus of those who attempt to find astrological proof of this star, either in exploding nebula or an alignment of planets or any other heavenly phenomena in the world we know. For Matthew, Numbers 24:17 will suffice: “a star shall come forth out of Jacob,” and that star will guide the Magi to Jesus. When they arrive, Matthew says, “they went into the house,” suggesting that Mary and Joseph live in that house. Unlike Luke’s “cave” or “stable,” Matthew says a “house.” The Magi do what they claimed they have come to do, and what Herod only feigned he would do, namely “pay him homage” (Mt.2:11). Then come the famous gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Mt. adds myrrh to the gifts listed in Is.60, but myrrh is a rather common accompaniment to frankincense in the Hebrew Bible.
Soon, the Magi experience a dream that warns them not to return to Herod, perhaps revealing his lying reality to them, so “they returned to their own land by another route” (Mt.2:12). Obviously, Matthew is informed in his telling of the story by the tale found prominently in Exodus about the birth of Moses, the threats of pharoah to kill him, and his clever saving by his mother and sister. Like Moses, Jesus will find a way to thwart the would-be killer and to fulfill the mission God has set for him.
But what of Herod? He will demand the slaughter of all male children in the vicinity of Jerusalem two years old or younger in the attempt to eliminate this so-called rival king of the Jews (Mt.2:16). His attempt is of course a failure, but brought about such pain and anguish among the homes of many that Matthew imagined that the ancient words of Jeremiah 31:15 had been fulfilled as “Rachel was heard weeping for her children” long ago. Herod’s own death came about quite soon after all this. He died in 4BCE after changing his will to make Antipas his heir, rather than his brother Antipater, as he had promised. He had imprisoned many of his adversaries in the Hippodrome at Jericho, and at his death he demanded that all them, along with Antipater, be killed so that there would be a general and loud mourning at his death. He perhaps feared that no one would lament the passing of such a loathsome man.
And so how are we, or how am I, like Herod? I like to think I am in some ways better; I surely would not scheme and lie and murder as he did, would I? Still, do I not feel especially good when I appear to be in control, on top, in a world where so many have little chance to reach where I am? I like my power, and work hard to maintain it, while all the while attempting to show the world that I really do not want to do so. I have much and am all too reluctant to let much of it go. I hope there is only a little Herod in me, but I know all too well that he lurks there. What about you? How are you like, or unlike, the king of the Jews, Herod the Great?