My Magi & Me, Part Two

Epiphany has come and gone. For those who are unaware, Epiphany is celebrated on January 6, twelve days after Christmas. It is traditionally the time when the visit of the magi to Jesus is celebrated.

There’s tons of material written about the magi – these mysterious “wise men” from the East, these non-Jews who come to worship the Jewish messiah. Even though this story is close to my heart and has inspired millions of people over the centuries, their identity remains a mystery. Were they astrologers? Magicians? Scholars?

Perhaps a combination of all three, but we’ll really never know.

To the world they are nameless and faceless, like the multitudes who worship Jesus. And like so many believers, they find themselves caught between their desire to pay tribute to the King of the Jews and the schemes of the powers-that-be to thwart and silence God’s plan of salvation for creation.

Their mere presence at the feet of Jesus shames the Jewish religious leaders, who are conspicuously absent from the traditional manger scene. They come asking where the “king of the Jews” has been born, and though the religious leaders know the answer, they are apparently not inclined to follow them and offer their worship to this messiah.

They come with little fanfare, but their mere presence causes Herod “and all Jerusalem with him” to be “disturbed.” (Matthew 2:3) And we know why: suddenly there is another power, another claim to kingship to be reckoned with. Apparently the “king of the Jews” is no longer Herod, no longer Caesar. The King cannot be found in the halls of political power, nor is he counted among the ranks of Rome’s conquering military generals. This King has been born in Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, a backwoods area of a backwater province on the backside of mighty Rome.

Amazing that someone so humble would cause the mighty to tremble with anxiety and fear.

If we have eyes to see and ears to hear, though, we also might tremble. Recently I’ve come to see the magi not just as mysterious Gentiles who’ve come to worship Jesus, but as representative of me! I’m a Gentile, and though I hesitate to call myself a “wise man,” I do find myself caught between a simple desire to worship Jesus and the manipulative (“tempting”) powers of this world.

But there’s a deeper connection, one I haven’t yet seen until this year. The magi offer rare and precious gifts; these gifts represent all that I am called to offer in my worship.

But am I ready to offer that which is rare and precious to me? It’s there that my identification with the magi becomes much more challenging; it’s easy to be a nameless, faceless worshiper of Jesus. I’m just one in the crowd. A number to be counted. I come because it makes me feel good, because it’s expected, because I’m looking for something: a blessing, healing, direction, purpose.

I come because I need something.

But am I ready to give something?