Our hearts revolt against infanticide. It strikes us as the most callous of crimes. But while the wholesale slaughter of baby boys would certainly have distressed first-century hearers, infanticide itself was broadly accepted.

It’s easy to sentimentalize the Christmas story. A newborn babe, angelic songs, a guiding star — the scene lights up our winter nights and warms our weary hearts. But when Herod orders the slaughter of all the male infants and toddlers within striking distance of Bethlehem, the tale suddenly becomes less family friendly. Indeed, in this moment, the Christmas dream becomes the stuff of nightmares.

Our hearts revolt against infanticide. It strikes us as the most callous of crimes. But while the wholesale slaughter of baby boys would certainly have distressed first-century hearers, infanticide itself was broadly accepted.

Abandoning infants — particularly baby girls — was common. Some historians estimate that the Greco-Roman world in the first and second century was as much as two-thirds male, due to maternal deaths in childbirth and selective infanticide (Christianity at the Crossroads, 36). Meanwhile, influential philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle had supported eugenics, the latter declaring, “Let there be a law that no deformed child shall live.” But even healthy baby boys were frequently abandoned. If someone else wanted them — to raise them as a slave, perhaps — it was finders keepers.

So, what happened between then and now to make us think of the protection of infants as a moral imperative? In a word, Jesus.

Breakthrough in Bethlehem

While writing a book on faith and medicine, pediatrics professor Paul Offit expected to echo new atheists in denouncing the impact of Christianity on healthcare. Offit had firsthand experience of treating kids who were sick because their parents refused medical care in favor of prayer. His research on the history of pediatric medicine, however, led him to precisely the opposite conclusion:

Independent of whether you believe in the existence of God . . . you have to be impressed with the man described as Jesus of Nazareth. At the time of Jesus’s life, around 4 B.C. to 30 A.D., child abuse, as noted by one historian, was “the crying vice of the Roman Empire.” Infanticide was common. Abandonment was common. . . . [C]hildren were property, no different than slaves. But Jesus stood up for children, cared about them, when those around him typically didn’t.

Offit now calls Christianity “the single greatest breakthrough against child abuse” in history, observing that the first Christian emperor of Rome outlawed infanticide in 315 and provided a nascent form of welfare in 321, so poor families would not have to sell their kids (Bad Faith, 127). If Jesus’s birth prompted the murder of hundreds of baby boys in Bethlehem, his life, death, and resurrection prompted the protection of millions more — and extended that protection to baby girls and those born disabled.

Let the Little Children Come

Of course, infanticide wasn’t instantly wiped out when the Son of God became the son of Mary. But Jesus’s incarnation forever dignified the infant form, and his teachings promoted babies from possessions to persons.

The same Gospel that records the slaughter of the innocents (Matthew 2:16) also majors on Jesus’s relationship with children. Placing a little child in the midst of his disciples, Jesus declared, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). And when his disciples were sending infants away, Jesus famously rebuked them, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14). Jesus drew little children in from the margins of personhood and placed them at the center of the kingdom of God.

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