Appearance
Matthew 2:1-12

January 6, 2002

This story of Magi on the move from the East is on our road. We are not shepherds in the field watching our flocks of sheep by night. We are not local life-long residents of Bethlehem and we are not Jews. Like the Magi, we are Gentiles in the Biblical scheme of things.

This wonderful story gets blipped over in the midst of Christmas pageants. Epiphany is the day of the Magi, but in most years January 6 does not fall on a Sunday. The next Sunday is the First Sunday after Epiphany on which the Lectionary readings are about the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. The Magi get forgotten as an entertaining addition to the creche scene, not the main story, and once again they are consigned to the following year's pageant.

The first historical reference in the Gospel of Matthew is after Jesus was born. "In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem." King Herod was the appointee of the Roman Empire to be the administrative ruler of Judea, ruling from 37-4 B.C. when he died. King was a loosely applied title, an honorific one, but Herod was nevertheless for the time being King of the Jews and had become used to the idea.

Wise men has always been the most satisfactory translation for Magi, even if a little sexist. Astrologers was offered by the New English Bible, but the modern connotation of that occupation seems a trivialization. They were from the East, but that could mean Persia, Babylon, Arabia, or many other places.

It was only in the second century A.D. that the Christian writer Tertullian noted that they were "almost kings" and from then on "We Three Kings" became our image. Consistent with the terseness of this tale, there are no numbers mentioned, but we have assumed that a king can carry only one gift.

Particularly in previous generations and in other traditions, Christians have dreamed and hoped for the day when all of God's children would become Christian. Of course, other faiths also hope for the day when everyone will agree with them. Judaism believed that day would arrive when the Gentiles, all the people who were not Jews, would worship the Lord God. All people would therefore share the expectation of the coming of the Anointed One, the Messiah. The Gentile Magi have arrived in the Holy City, led by a star they saw far away, and are looking for the Messiah. That day has arrived. "Where is the child who has been born King of the Jews?" they ask excitedly.

Gentile intellectuals are here to worship and give homage to the hope of all Judaism. There is excitement in return, but one of dread and fear rather than joy. King Herod was frightened and all Jerusalem with him. What was wrong with that world? It was an terrible time, full of violence, military and political oppression. Even religious faith seems to have been corrupted, rigidified, and diminished.

It is an odd sort of comforting realization, therefore, that while Jesus was born at the beginning of the Common Era, as far as world conditions are concerned he could be born again today in our ambivalent and ambiguous times and not miss a beat nor find any more hardship or anguish.

The Magi are advised that Bethlehem is the place most likely, and the destination is confirmed quickly upon seeing that strange star ahead of them, directing them to the city and stopping over the place where the child was. We hear this story every year, but did you ever wonder how it could come to be?

Stars don't move ahead of us in this way at all, and to stop overhead and point the way down to an infant's body is unimaginable. In the world of antiquity a star is a different kind of natural phenomenon, definitely not a huge sun heating its planets.

A star was considered to be a living being, and in a number of Old Testament passages it is associated with angels. Angels too are depicted as bright lights and one of them would have somehow been able to its light directly down upon the house where Jesus lived. Someone showed the Magi the way, instead of just an inanimate star. Indeed, for such a star to be able to guide them to the Messiah demonstrates a real sort of consciousness. I'd rather opt for angels than astrology.

The story of the three Magi - Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasaar - has been told in many different ways, the tale of the Fourth Wise Man Artaban being a charming modern one. There is one you probably have not heard, from the sixth century The Cave of Treasures.

When Adam and Eve lived in the Garden of Eden, before they sinned by eating the fruit of the forbidden tree, Adam had many beautiful and precious treasures. After they sinned, but before they had to leave Eden, Adam pleaded with God to be allowed to take some of his treasures with him. Graciously, God said OK. When Adam died, his family buried these treasures in a cave, and like at the gates of Eden an angel was posted to guard these treasures.

Millennia upon millennia later, in the fullness of time - the fullness of God's time - a star rose in the East and three magi followed its light towards the Messiah. Along the way they were directed to this ancient, hidden cave of Adam. The guardian angel gave way so that they could enter. They found in the cave gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and took some of each to bring to the royal Jewish infant.

An imaginative story, almost in the vein of Henry Van Dyke's The Other Wise Man. Nevertheless, it offers a solution to an old problem, that of the wealth of the Magi. They are our spiritual ancestors, the first Gentiles to recognize the Christ, but most of us are not rich. These stories are always slack on details, but it may be assumed that the Magi did not have a lot to give. Along the way they acquired these famous three gifts. It is the gifts we acquire along the way that matter as well.

I have not always been kind, I have not always been loving, nor have I always been giving. I learned these traits at the feet of my parents and other mentors and teachers, and most of all by the grace of God. I was not born with these three gifts and more; along the way I have been given them, and now it is my turn to give them away. These are the gifts Jesus yearns for.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan