A.N-I was listening to this Christian radio station, K Love, (FM 89.5) and I thought of writing this. It may seem a little contradictory, but it seems good. I hope you like it.


A voice was heard in Ramah,
Sobbing and loud lamentation;
Rachel weeping for her children,
And she would not be consoled,
Since they are no more
Jer 31, 15 Mt 2:18

A woman cleans her house; her children in bed. Her husband, a Benjaminite, was out with friends.

Rachel put down her broom and sighed. Then she heard tiny footsteps in the hall. She turned to see her two-year-old son, Joshua, standing in the doorway. She smiled and opened her arms, beckoning the child to come. The little boy was happy to receive attention from his mother. His little brother and sister, Aaron and Miriam, had been born just a month ago, and for now life revolved around the children, and no doubt Joshua was feeling abandoned.

"My child, what has awaken you? Do the angels' games grow too rowdy for your dreams?" Joshua grinned. His mother firmly believed any good dreams were the angels' play time.

"I thought I heard footsteps in the front, Mama, and knocking." Rachel laughed, a dainty sound that her newborns loved to hear.

"My sweet, you hear the angels footsteps, and Jehovah's laughter. Now go to sleep, and apologize to the angels for leaving so soon." Joshua smiled. He nodded, and was going to do what his mother bid him, when he heard knocking again.

This time Rachel heard it as well, and got up to answer the door. Before she could, however, it was forced open. The door splintered as the wood broke. Rachel shielded her son from it, lest one of the pieces hurt him. Then she turned with a frown, ready to reprimand her intruders, but she froze when she saw who it was.

King Herod's soldiers stood in her doorway, looking imposing in their uniforms. Their swords were drawn. The one who looked to be the leader looked at her, a bored expression on his face. But then he saw her son, cowering behind his mother's skirts, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

Rachel, furious, reverted to her native tongue to yell at the soldiers. They stared blankly at her, not understanding Hebrew, so she was forced to speak in Latin. She was not a dumb woman, far from it, and she knew the language of her conquerors.

The captain did not want to hear her rant, however. Instead he asked her, in broken Hebrew, whether she had anymore children. She nodded slowly, and told him that she had two more, a son and a daughter.

"Go get your other son. Leave this one here," he ordered. Rachel did not feel comfortable with leaving Joshua with these men, but she had no choice. She went into the twins' room and took Aaron from his crib. Miriam stirred slightly, but did not wake.

When she returned, she nearly dropped the child. Her son, Joshua, was lying motionless on the floor, his throat slit.

Rachel screamed, and baby Aaron woke up. His sister also woke at the sound of her mother's scream, and the two cried with all their lung power.

One of the guards ripped Aaron out of Rachel's arms. His mother tried to hold on to him, to shield him from this horror, but another soldier held her back. The one who had Aaron took out his sword and slit the baby's throat, like his brother.

Rachel broke down and weeped over the body of her sons ignoing her daughter in the other room. The soldiers left after their sinful deed was done, and left her to mourn. She could hear more doors breaking, the sound of babies crying at being awoken, and mothers crying at their children being silenced.

"Why?" Rachel croaked out, her voice strained from crying, and her eyes were red and puffy. Just then rain started pouring down, the tears of Heaven. The angels were weeping for the slain children

And then, like the stillness in the story of Elijah, Rachel looked up to Heaven, for she was sure her God was watching. A soft voice, like the wind, whispering in her ear,

Holy Innocents...It was so soft, almost inaudible, Rachel wasn't sure she heard it right. But the words repeated, this time with more to it:

Holy Innocents. These are what your sons are. But their deaths are not in vain. They have saved My Son, and for that they are rewarded. Mourn not, Rachel of the tribe of Issachar, dry your tears. For your sons are with Me, and I will take care of them.

Yes, your sons are with Me, and someday this event will be written of, four times, and your children shall be remembered forever, by all ages.

The voice stopped then, and the still feeling went away, but Rachel felt peaceful, like the deaths of her sons had never happened. She went into her twins', no, her daughter's room, and picked Miriam up, who was sniffling now. The girl's mother's eyes softened as she looked at her child. The girl's brothers were gone, true, but Rachel still had her daughter. And those words, promising her.

Rachel did not know if the other mothers had the same message revealed to them, but as for her, she would continue to live her life justly, as the good God-fearing woman that she was. And someday, she would join her sons in Paradise.

But for now, she would take comfort in her daughter, and those words.


A.N-God bless you.