The Magi’s Midwinter March
Matthew 2:1–12
The Magi’s Midwinter March
Matthew 2:1–12
Mt. Pisgah Presbyterian
Church January 1, 2012
Roslyn, WA
Dr. James D. Berkley
New Year’s Day—a time to look forward in anticipation of what God has in store for us. But by the church calendar, today is one of the twelve days of Christmas, leading up to January 6—Ephphany, the day associated with the visit of the Magi in Bethlehem. The Magi were looking forward—well, actually looking up into the sky—to see what they might discern about the future.
It’s not easy being a Wise Man. I learned that lesson the hard way about 50 years ago in a Christmas pageant in Yakima. Since I owned a bathrobe, I got to play one of the Wise Men. I also needed a beard, but that was easy. Someone glued one to my face with rubber cement. The beard adhered well, getting me down the long aisle and through my part. But it adhered really, really well. It adhered so well that it took about half the night and a lot of scalding water to get the beard off my face. So I know that being a Wise Man is hard!
It must have been difficult for the real Magi who came to worship Jesus at his birth. As we look at their midwinter march, we’ll see the sign that grabbed their attention, their search that brought them hundreds of miles, and the significance of their journey.
The sign
To properly understand the sign, we need to understand Magi in general. Magi were a class of men not unlike the Jewish priests, but from the Persian regions to the east, and they practiced an entirely different religion. Magi performed priestly functions, practiced magical arts, studied the stars, and enjoyed the status of learned men, rich and powerful.
Tradition has suggested far more than we know for certain about the Magi. We guess that there were three of them, because of the three gifts, but we don’t really know the number. The carol talks about “three kings of orient,” but there’s no biblical evidence that they were kings. They have even been given names—Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar—but in truth, we know next to nothing about the real visitors.
At the time, however, history records a widespread belief that something unusual was to take place in backwater Judea. William Barclay writes:
Even the Roman historians knew about [the coming of a king.] Not so very much later than this, Suetonius could write, “There had spread over all the Orient an old and established belief, that it was fated at this time for men coming from Judaea to rule the world.” Tacitus tells of the same belief that “There was a firm persuasion … that at this very time, the East was to grow powerful, and rulers coming from Judaea were to acquire universal empire.” The Jews had the belief that “about that time one from their country should become governor of the habitable earth,” wrote Josephus.
There are accounts of Magi in Rome visiting Nero, and in Athens sacrificing to the memory of Plato. Magi took such trips to kings and rulers, and now Judea was the destination.
We can picture Magi in Persia, piecing together speculation that a great leader would come from Judea, searching their scrolls, calculating the courses of stars, scanning the sky, and generally looking ahead for the glorious moment, for something to break, something to give them a clue as to what was to come.
Upon this scene appeared an unusual heavenly sign—a star or a comet or the union of two planets—something highly irregular and startling to grab their attention. Near that date, Halley’s Comet swept through the sky. A couple of years later, Saturn and Jupiter appeared joined together in bright radiance. A little later, Mesori, Sirius—the Dog Star—rose just at sunrise in an extraordinarily brilliant way. It could be that any of these phenomena was the sign the Magi sought.
Whatever the Star of Bethlehem was, it was the sign that roused the Magi. This is it! Once in a lifetime—no, actually once in the history of the world—such an opportunity arises. The Magi gathered provisions for the trip and costly gifts for the royal One, and off they went to the west.
The search
In focusing on the sign, we may overlook the search. The Magi’s journey was like from here to Butte, Montana. Can you imagine walking there, or riding on a camel? Travel in those days was dangerous and difficult. There was constant danger of highway robbery or even slaughter. Roads were little more than meandering trails, lightly traveled and lacking in amenities. We don’t know the Magi traveled by camels, Christmas cards notwithstanding, but it would be a good guess, given the Magi’s station in life.
There were rivers and badlands, mountains and deserts to cross, even before they got to Jerusalem. But there they had a worse obstacle: an insanely jealous King Herod, who wanted to see them—now! He extracted from them the date of the rising of the star, but they got from Herod the correct place to look: Bethlehem. The Magi were fortunate to escape Herod’s murderous plans.
They did go to Bethlehem, however, and on their way they again saw the star, reminding them that their epic journey was about to be fulfilled. Thus, they went on to the house where they saw Mary and Jesus. Obviously some time had passed since Jesus’ birth, for he was in a house rather than the stable. There in the house, the Magi found their King.
The significance
The sign had appeared. The search was completed. Now comes the significance of the visit.
The narrative is simple: “Entering the house, they saw the child with Mary His mother, and falling to their knees, they worshiped Him.” This speaks much more than the simple words first tell us. We learn that the Magi’s quest wasn’t something for themselves. They came with the sole purpose of worshiping. They didn’t first ask questions about astrology, or get Mary’s autograph, or buy souvenirs. No, they instinctively fell down to worship, a response to who it was they were seeking—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The worship was for Jesus.
Then they gave him gifts, for one dared not approach a monarch without costly and sizable gifts. The Magi brought gold, the most precious gift that could be given—a kingly gift, a rich gift, a gift that denoted the rank of the recipient. They also brought frankincense, a perfuming substance every good priest needed for burnt offerings. It was something one would give a priestly leader.
The third gift was myrrh, a gumlike resin from a shrublike tree. Myrrh was a large part of the anointing oil used in the Temple, and it was also used as an embalming spice. It was an odd birth gift, unless one understood the reason for the King’s birth. Yes, even at his birth, Jesus bore a sad prospect: He was born to die for us. Even at birth he was given a burial spice by the Magi, come to give gifts to a great King, the baby Jesus.
The story turns out to have great significance in far-reaching ways. The Magi are like archetypes for all of searching mankind, those scanning the horizon for what is to come. Magi spent their life in search of something greater than themselves. They scoured life, trying to find meaning. They were aching to find life’s purpose, and when God placed the glorious star in the sky, they were prepared to leap at the opportunity to make the arduous trip to Bethlehem. And when they encountered their Lord there, they fell down to worship him and give him gifts. These wise men discovered life’s meaning.
Our response
Will our response be like the Magi’s? Are we looking beyond ourselves, seeking for 2012 expectations greater than a New Year’s kiss or a trip to a warmer spot? Is our search for the Lord of Life, the King of Kings? And would we really know him when we find him?
And what’s more: Do we search for Jesus to worship him or to add to our self-gratification? Do we plan to give something of ourselves to him, something big, something fitting a King? Or will we seek Jesus only for what we want him to give us?
The Magi sought Jesus to fall down and worship him. Shouldn’t we who have every cultural benefit for finding him, we who are steeped in Christian images, we who see Jesus’ goodness all around us—shouldn’t we seek Jesus to give of ourselves to him? The Magi teach us that the purpose in life is to seek our King and then worship him and give him all we have. That is a quest worthy of our efforts in the coming year, and it will actually be the glorious task that fills and fulfills our eternity!
In the 1600s, a prayer penned by Fran¬cis Xavier could just as well be the Magi’s prayer, and it could be ours as well. It reads:
My God, I love Thee; not because
I hope for Heav’n thereby,
Nor yet because who love Thee not
Must die eternally.
Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me
Upon the cross embrace;
For me didst bear the nails and spear,
And manifold disgrace.
And griefs and torments numberless,
And sweat of agony;
E’en death itself; and all for man
Who was Thine enemy.
Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ
Should I not love Thee well?
Not for the hope of winning Heaven,
Nor of escaping hell.
Not with the hope of gaining aught,
Nor seeking a reward,
But as Thyself hast loved me,
O everlasting Lord!
E’en so I love Thee, and will love,
And in Thy praise will sing,
Solely because Thou art my God,
And my Eternal King.
–17th century Latin text, attributed to Fran¬cis Xavier, translated by Edward Caswall
Wow! May this be our prayer in 2012!
* * * * *
Another poem helps add drama to the Magi’s quest:
The Wise
Miles across the turbulent kingdoms
They came for it, but that was nothing,
That was the least. Drunk with vision,
Rain stringing the ragged beards,
When a beast lamed, they caught up another
And goaded west.
For the time was on them.
Once, as it may, in the life of a man,
Once, as it was, in the life of mankind,
All is corrected. And their years of pursuit,
Raw-eyed reading the wrong texts,
Charting the doubtful calculations,
Those nights knotted with thought,
When dawn held off, and the rooster
Rattled the leaves with his blind assertion—
All that, they regarded, under the Sign,
No longer as search but as preparation.
For when the mark was made, they saw it.
Nor stopped to reckon the fallible years,
But rejoiced and followed,
And are called “wise”, who learned that Truth,
When sought and at last seen,
Is never found. It is given.
And they brought their camels
Breakneck into that village,
And flung themselves down in the dung and dirt of that place,
And kissed that ground, and the tears
Ran on their faces, where the rain had.
–William Everson
