XII

AN OUTCRY OF ANGUISH

Douay-Rheims Bible Jeremiah 31:15

“Thus saith the Lord: A voice was heard on high, a lamentation of mourning and weeping of Rachel, weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted for them because they are not.”

The great torment!………………………A very painful, fierce scene!…………………………….the violence of pulling the swords by force for no reason, unjustified and unexpected, without a thought to carry out such action, shedding innocent blood in an incredible amount, enraged for envy, with no adversary to fight against, yet these babies are receiving strong blows, defenseless and tempted a provocation to strike back; but still, these babies don’t know how to stir deliberate foment let alone retaliation. The mother’s bitter lamentation, their great bewailing, beating themselves in grief! The harsh outcries, severe crying of the innocent babies, their beheadings!

The phenomenon of the physical world for ill-treatment can be preventive, especially to its dearest possession, begging for mercy or sympathy but only fell to deafened ears, down to the hardened ground drenched with children’s blood. When half of their souls, their children are snatched from these woeful mothers, from their unprotected arms by these wild executioners, inflicting vicious beatings, resulting for these mothers to punishing themselves by pulling their hairs, like crazy! Oh! And in what manner they protect their children from any harm or injury? For shielding their babies from the wild attacks of these atrocious soldiers, scrambling unceremoniously for dominion, hiding their youngs while trying to secure themselves at the same time! These babies are pushing their ways to their mothers, recognizing from their young minds the unknown dangers, aware to seek for cover from the harsh persecutions happening around them. Young babies do not know how to hide, for they do not understand the fear to act from the coming danger; thus, the mother and the killer are clamoring and fighting over the child to defend and save her esteemed love of her life, to fend off from snatching this martyr child from her.

—“Why are you taking my child from me? I gave birth to that child! This child came from my womb!” The crying mother said to the executioner. —“My blood gave life to that child; I gave him nourishment from my breast, I carried him from my womb for nine months, and in an instant your brutal and bloodied hand had torn him into pieces? I just gave birth to him and now you threw him into that solid ground!”

Another mother brimming with grief saw her heart’s completion was torn into pieces, her pledge of allegiance was ripped and mangled, but to let her live? Her overflowing tears are exuberant and she spoke to the slayer saying this:

—“Kill me! Why would you let me live? Left alone in this world! Do you feel any guilt? In case there is guilt, let it be mine!…………mine! Did you hear? And if you don’t find any shame for what you’ve done and killing is a pleasure for you, then please intermingle my blood to my dear child’s blood, that I may be delivered from this painful suffering I am bearing.”

Another distressed mother states these words:

—“You are looking for one! But you killed many, and the one you intended to kill will never be found, ever!”

While another unfortunate mother tightly held her bloodied child onto her chest, then she held her child’s head high up to heaven, saying these words:

—“Come quick! O Savior of the world! For even if they keep on looking for you, they will never be successful in finding you, and YOU are nowhere to be found! And even if they found you, YOU fear no one! Come forth upon this cruel King that he may never take another dearest child’s life anymore.”

From up to here is St. Augustine’s narration.

The ground turned red with blood without a pang of guilt, no regret or sense of responsibility. The harsh reality of this horrible shocking incident, and the severe agony of the heartbroken mothers are unimaginable. Tired out and physically drained, they slowly bowed down to the ground and started picking up their children’s body parts. Then, piece by piece, they placed them onto their laps, caressing them affectionately, cradling them, feeling every bit of pieces while singing their lullabies, pretending that their hymnal songs would help them fall asleep. These mothers had no more tears to shed, nothing more to offer but their sweet smiling lips, their heartrending singing are hymns of agony, sounding mentally deranged, for they are now insane! The aftereffect of this indescribable monstrous bloodbath in this madhouse of demons.

But some mothers are still fighting, standing their ground for their children, brave enough to resist and battle their inevitable fate. Seeing their cherished children thrown to the ground, killed by these ruthless executioners, is like part of these mothers’ beings are smashed with it, and every flesh’s splattering impact to that solid ground is like the mother’s hearts crashing into pieces. Attacking with physical force is belligerent; these mothers are not giving up without a fight. They clashed and brawled with these killers, who are now are like the wounded panthers, tired and exhausted. But after biting the Minister’s hand and the altercations between the mothers and the murderers where it’s absolutely a no-win situation, most mothers collapsed down on top of their children’s scattered body parts, soaked in blood. More than sixty children are beheaded, aside from the one’s thrown into the ground. Babies body parts are sprawled out all over the spacious patio, the pool of blood for Herod’s ravaging madness.

The most dreadful and tragic scene, a terrifying story to narrate, a bloody event like no other, the savage and senseless killings of the Holy innocents are over. The murderers are getting ready to depart, leaving this expansive bazaar of tears and blood, when in a sudden, they saw a woman from a distance, carrying a child, a latecomer. The unfortunate mother is unaware of the shocking, terrible event that just transpired, not knowing that her fate is about to change forever. She was dancing; her moving feet are swaying inch by inch as she draws near the cauldron of carnage, swirling around while raising her child above her forehead, kissing his tiny feet, tip-toeing her face. As she continues her path, she sings her merriment songs, happy, encouraging songs, while her baby is joyfully smiling, blithely listening to his mother’s melodious, delightful voice, giggling at his mother’s loving affection.

Cingo finally met the said woman, face to face, and without hesitation, he suddenly grabbed the child’s one leg, raising him upside down. This sudden jolt surprises the child and it causes him to cry aloud. The mother was astonished too, wailing and screaming, terrified from Cingo’s unexpected action, her eyes are wide open, afraid of what could happen next. The child sensed the danger and the sudden force that grabbed him; alarmed by the vicious assault that besieged him, he bursts out crying, a horrific piercing blasts of calling, not knowing the threat, for he is still a baby.

—“Woe is me, Oh! wicked slave, if you just touch a strand of that child’s hair!” The woman’s outcry, then gave Cingo a dirty look, rising in anger.

—“Don’t be afraid!” Cingo replied while laughing, mixed with mockery and intense violence in his face. —“You won’t tell me to the judges in Jerusalem, aren’t you?”

—“Tremble in fear, you fool!” The woman said anew, that by the time were restrained by Cingo’s two soldiers. —“That child is the one to inherit Juda’s crown. He is a King’s child, destined to inherit the throne.”

Cingo heard this statement, and immediately a spark of light flashes through his eyes, a vicious hilarity was shown in to his blackface, then he responded like this:

—“Ah! Therefore this child is the King of Juda? Well, he is what we are looking for, we could have avoided a tremendous amount of bloodshed.”

Then, while laughing, Cingo began to rotate the child like a propeller in the air and bluntly released the baby in full force. The child flew through the air, whirling around and collided to a concrete solid wall. The impact causes a tremendous amount of blood spurting out, squirting like water gushing down to the ground together with the child.

Cingo’s comrades are bursting out of laughing, a deafening bizarre screaming of joy, a terrible insanity of insulting mockery erupted through the air. Then, the head leader walked towards the infant from where it landed and picked up the crushed body of the child.

The evil derision of satisfaction indulged with lusts for blood flowing down the solid ground as the leader went to that little boy’s body, for they are not done yet. One of the soldiers pulled a sword and beheaded the dangling soft head of the child, finishing the scenario by bending one knee to the ground, genuflecting in front of Cingo, before speaking, in unprecedented wicked ways he says:

—“Cingo, I am granting you this King’s head, but don’t forget to give me my due compensation.”

The overwhelmed and devastated woman watched the unimaginable sight she had ever witnessed; she couldn’t get hold of herself any longer, and was unable to stand watching this gruesome killing of her child. a flabbergasting trauma, seeing the blood spewing out her babies head is enough for her to fall apart and collapse, dropped down to the ground face first!

Cingo tied the child’s severed head at the end of his shawl and left the place with his savage soldiers. The mothers were the only ones left in that slaughterous cauldron, in anguish, filled with miseries, and bathed in blood. They are in shock of disbelief. Some are wandering about, aimlessly gloomy, with hollowed eyes and muted, without a purpose, staring into nothingness of oblivion. Some are in shock while sitting, bewildered and overwhelmed while staring into space; some are wailing and lamenting. Numbness gripped their hearts, detached from the reality of their surroundings, disinterested on others. Staying for more hours beside the torn and scattered body parts of their babies, gathering the remains bit by bit, like they are captives into that place, held by an unseen force to delay their escape, but opposing this feeling for they no longer want to see this abominable place. Until the dark blanket of the night started to sprawl into the land, spreading its frightful blackness; but the moons silvery light began to emerge, shining its brilliant radiance towards this eerie sight. It claims, from the folklore’s legends, that the shining stars that night was God’s will, to spread it’s brightest shimmering light to guide those innocent souls from Bethlehem, and help them reach their destination, in the “Great Beyond” where God dwells. “Heaven,” leading by the melancholic and glorious light.

The fathers victim children are now back home from their all-day work in their farmlands. Their painful grieving are severely calamitous, from finding out the barbaric haughtiness, of the accursed bloodbath of their dear children, while they were in the field.

But Oh! These poor and unarmed farmers, what are their defense against Herod’s raging lunacy, and what are their shield to those brutal, powerful Romans? Nothing but tears! These grieving fathers are crying bitter tears of sorrow; the loud outcry from Bethlehem and the nearby towns are hard to describe. Their pain and sufferings from their afflicted hearts are heard down to the deep depths of graves, descending downwards to the underworld of the abyss, where the dead lies down to rest in peace. Their tears of anguish are justified for the harsh weeping by realizing the horrifying incident that just transpired, the killing of the Holy innocents!

Bethlehem, David’s town, became the motherland, the cradle of the first martyrs of Christianity. The precious smiles of those little angels who were murdered by these unflinching swords for the undeniable lusting for blood of this evil King.

Teardrops of healing beads, sprinkled through the land of the first martyrs of Christianity for abundance, like the mists of fresh morning dew flowing down from heaven for a new and beauteous day. Sweetening the bitter pain, moistening the dazzling scented flowers, carried by these beaming Christian souls, offering and bowing down their foreheads in front of this sacred tree that gave the ultimate freedom for humanity, this Divine Tree who voluntarily sacrifices oneself with humility remitting the afflicting darkness of the land. God’s plan is now working to take His precious land back to HIS Dominion from that night of bloodshed!

God escaped the horrendous killings that night, for He is destined to die on the cross; the blood He will shed for humanity is imminent, the coming Messiah to redeem the world, the forthcoming Savior led by the children’s blood from Bethlehem!

Feasts of the Holy Innocent: December 28 Matthew 2:16