When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah, since from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word that I too may go and do him homage.” After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary, his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way. (Matthew 2.1-12)
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Epiphany, although the actual feast day is on January 6th. So that more people might participate in the celebration, it has been moved–at least in the United States–to the Sunday after January 1st. It is one of the oldest celebrations on the calendar, dating back to the early Christian communities, along with Easter and Pentecost.
While we tend to put more emphasis on the celebration of Christmas, it was not always so. In fact, the feast of Epiphany is much older while Christmas did not make it to the calendar until the fourth century. Even today, in many European countries, the greater celebration, particularly with gift giving, is reserved for Epiphany, in this way recalling the gifts that the magi gave to the Child Jesus in Bethlehem.
The story of that visit of the magi, a classic among Christmas stories, appears only in the Gospel of Matthew in contrast to the Gospel of Luke that makes no mention of it, but instead tells of shepherds in local fields who pay a visit to the baby Jesus. By this point in our gospel study, we should expect such differences in the texts.
As with most things concerning the Christmas story, we have combined the two sources–Matthew and Luke–and we have filled in blanks where the evangelists provide little to no information. So, we have come to believe that there were three magi who arrived on the scene, although Matthew says nothing of the number. The number three was decided simply on the basis of the three gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh that were given to Jesus.
At various points across the ages, the number has changed, the Eastern Church preferring the number twelve. There are ancient works of art that depict a variety of numbers, people filling in the gap in their knowledge with a number that fits their own wants. The Western Church has settled on the number three, a secondary reason often cited being the three persons of the Trinity.
While we are looking at the tradition, we also need to make clear that the scripture does not mention the visitors from afar were three kings or three wise men. Instead, Matthew calls them magi, the name given to a caste of priests associated with the Zoroasterism religion of ancient Persia. Often, these men sought divine guidance from the movement or activity of stars, hence being astrologers of sorts. Ancient records also saw them as magicians, hence the word “magi.”
And while the star plays a key part in this story as told to us by Matthew, such a focus on the activities of the stars was not restricted to this particular region of Persia, but was widespread in the ancient world, many people of the times believing that births and deaths were often associated with just such astral phenomenon.
In other words, Matthew presents to his readers in these magi figures a group of people that was well-known. They were not oddities, but real historical figures. That is not to say that he provides us with a historical record in his telling of this story of the visit of the magi. Our age is preoccupied with historicity, believing truth is found only in historical facts. But that was not so in Matthew’s time.
Whether or not the magi physically were present sometime after Jesus’ birth is not Matthew’s chief concern as he wrote his gospel some half a century after the death of Jesus of Nazareth. He has a greater purpose in placing them in the story than simply recalling what may or may not have been an historical event. And that is where we want to direct our attention today as we ponder the significance of the visit of the Magi to the Child Jesus in Bethlehem.
By all accounts, particularly when looking at the gospel as a whole, Matthew employs the magi to assist him in one of his central themes in his telling the story of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. That theme, as we will continue to see in the year ahead, is the belief that the good news of Jesus was meant for the whole world, not just for the Jewish inhabitants of Judea.
Although Matthew himself was Jewish and the community to whom he wrote his gospel also were Jewish-Christians, this message was an important one because by this point in the history of the early church it was clear that the belief that Jesus was the promised Messiah was rejected by and large by the Jews, even while it was being embraced by Gentile believers.
Saint Paul, working and writing two decades after the death of Jesus, had already witnessed the same reality. While he often attempted to preach his message to Jews in their local synagogues, he just as often was driven out of the synagogue, if not out of town. He found a much more receptive audience in the non-Jews, eventually his focus and his theology shifting to them, resulting in time in what has become known as replacement theology.
Matthew, for his part, intends his community to see that Jesus’ message was extended to all peoples, not just for the Jews to whom he had preached. It was important, then, that he present at the start of his gospel a story of foreigners paying a visit to the Child Jesus, describing these outsiders as rejoicing when they saw the Child Jesus, prostrating themselves and worshipping him, the words connoting the proper response to the presence of the long awaited, long hoped for Messiah. These magi, in effect, become models for later Gentile believers and they prefigure the same Gentile members who are participants in the community that Matthew addresses in his writing.
If he begins with a clear message of inclusion, Matthew ends with the same message, reiterating it at the close of his gospel when the Resurrected Lord addresses his band of followers before he ascends into the high heavens. Matthew tells us that when the apostles saw Jesus, they “worshiped” him, the same word used here that had been used to describe the reaction of the magi when they first saw Jesus.
The evangelist tells us that the Risen Lord approached the apostles and gave them his final instruction, telling them, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit. The word “all nations” is synonymous with the word “Gentile.” In this way, Matthew reiterates the central call to inclusion that he had made with the visit of the magi, leaving little to no doubt that there is a universality to Jesus’ message of God’s love for his children.
If we are to appropriate anything from this story of the magi, other than making them stock figures in our nativity sets, then it is clear that we, as followers of the Lord Jesus, must be open to and embrace all others, regardless of color, caste, or clan. To dismiss, denigrate, or deny others a place at the table simply because they are not like us in some way is a contradiction to the very gospel that begins with outsiders being brought into the tent.
Any practice on our part that puts others in a different category is an affront to one of the chief tenets of Christianity, a challenge for sure to us in these times when tribalism is the coin of the realm, a belief that others who differ from us in some way are inferior to us at best and enemies of ours at worse. Such a belief is antithetical to the whole of the gospel and any effort to square the two can only result in a fraudulent Christianity.
We owe the evangelist Matthew a debt of gratitude for putting that message before us today in the visit of the Magi, a message we ignore at great peril to our faithfulness as followers of Jesus of Nazareth. As we gaze upon these three figures, we should see not so much their faces as painted onto statues, but should see the faces of those we may want to alienate, castigate or denigrate, realizing these are the magi who now stand before us.
In her book, “The Wounds Are the Witness,” the scholar and theologian Yolanda Pierce shares her childhood memories of her grandmother’s kitchen table that, as she described it, “expanded infinitely on Sundays and holidays and special occasions, when the normal place settings for a family of four grew to miraculously accommodate twenty or thirty or forty guests.” Somehow, there was always room–and food–for one more person.
Dr. Pierce writes, “I could not imagine a scenario in which someone would be turned away from our table. I still can’t. I cannot imagine a family member or stranger not being embraced and welcomed with an offering of biscuits or pound cake.” As she explained, “It wasn’t just that there was room at the table; there was love and joy and laughter. The meal was already prepared for you. All you had to do was choose your seat and sit down.”
She reflected that at times the kids were regularly bumped from the table for adults and sat at another table. “Some Sundays, and all the holidays,” she wrote, “we had enough kids for a separate kids’ table.” She said she learned some very important lessons about love, inclusiveness, and hospitality from her grandma’s kitchen table.
That is the same lesson that the evangelist Matthew puts before us today when he tells of these foreigners who entered the place where the star had led them, finding there the Child Jesus with his mother and Joseph. The door was opened for them and the table was set before them, waiting for them where they were welcomed into the Divine Presence, finding their place at the table, a table that had room for everybody. Every single body, then, now, and always.
–Jeremy Myers
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