Who Are These Guys?
“Who Are These Guys?” by Pastor Rosanna McFadden
Good morning! Our nativity scene is finally complete with the arrival of the three kings — also called the magi or the wise men. January 6 is Three Kings’ Day in the Christian world, and we are observing it today. In some, particularly Spanish-speaking countries, in Central and South America or Spain, it is the day when children receive gifts — which makes sense. This is the day we celebrate the wise men and the gifts they brought to the infant Jesus. Jesus’ family didn’t have gifts for him, the angels didn’t bring anything except tidings of great joy, which is admittedly, pretty good, and if you believe the Little Drummer Boy story, the shepherds didn’t give Jesus anything except a pretty good drum solo, which is not really a great thing for a newborn and his exhausted parents.
Three Kings Day is also known as Epiphany, especially in places where the gift-giving happened twelve days ago. Epiphany means insight or revelation: that kind of light bulb moment where you have a moment of insight or understanding. Epiphany with a lower case “e” can be a moment at any time of the year — say, during a sermon on Sunday morning at Creekside — and Epiphany with a capital “E” is the holiday we’re observing this morning: where some wise men had some shared insight about the meaning of a new star in the heavens, and acted on that by traveling to see a new kind of king.
But who are these guys, anyway? There are various answers to this, depending on what source you’re using. If you’re reading the Bible, there is not a lot of detail. If you Google the three wise men, you can find their names, nationalities, and physical descriptions — all of which is based on Christian tradition, and none of which we have physical evidence for, although at least some of the guesses are educated ones. So here’s what we know: the wise men are not Jews; they have traveled from East of Judea, maybe all from one place, maybe from different points East. We’re not told how many wise men there are — at least two. Wise men may mean ‘kings,’ but that was a fluid term: Herod was called a king, but he was appointed by and answerable to the Roman government. Wise men may also translated be as ‘magi’ or ‘magician,’ which could be an astronomer or an astrologer — someone who studied the stars and made predictions based on them. A magi could also be a priest or someone who performed religious rites: this seems likely based on one of the gifts in particular.
Camels aren’t mentioned in Matthew’s account, but Isaiah and other prophecies allude to camels, so that is how the wise men are thought to have traveled. The three gifts are gold, symbolizing royalty; frankincense which was the incense used most often in Jewish temple worship, so it is thought to symbolize the presence of divinity; and myrrh which was used for anointing the dead, so it is thought to symbolize Jesus mortality. The verses of “We Three Kings” which we just sang do an admirable job of explaining these gifts in a poetic way, even though “Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,” is an unlikely text for a Christmas carol, it is definitely implied by the gift of myrrh.
Tradition has named these men Caspar, or Jaspar from India, who brings the gift of frankincense; Melchoir, their leader from Persia, who brings the gift of gold; and Balthasar from Arabia, who bring the gift of myrrh. And while it’s interesting to speculate about who these wise men may have been, and have them add some variety, color and a bit of bling to the plainness and poverty of our manger scene, I am less interested in who these wise men were, than I am in what they may have meant to Jesus’ parents, and what gifts they may have for us at the beginning of this new year.
Although Matthew doesn’t say it specifically, the wise men’s arrival had to be a surprise. Matthew doesn’t mention Jesus’ father Joseph, but only says that they entered the house where the star had stopped and found the child with his mother Mary. They kneel down, pay homage to the baby, give Mary their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh and leave. I have so many questions about what is NOT here. Was it nighttime? It’s pretty hard to follow stars in daylight. Did they knock on the door or announce themselves, or did they just walk into the house? Was Joseph there? Did they introduce themselves, say why they were there, mention that there might be a murderous tyrant in the neighborhood soon? Did they say anything about the gifts they brought — especially that embalming spice and the whole “sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying” thing?
Of course we’ll never know the answers to these questions, but the very fact that there is so much uncertainty surrounding this visit and its aftermath tells me that it was very much a mixed bag. What was the cost of these gifts? Not their value, but their cost in terms of Herod killing all the baby boys under two years old in Bethlehem, and Jesus and his family having to pack up in the middle of the night and run for their lives. Perhaps even the cost to the wise men of having to go home another way, congratulating themselves on what a nice thing they did for that poor family.
I can say with certainty that unexpected things will happen in 2025. It may be that someone you don’t know will show up at your house with a casket of gold, and leave without explanation. If that happens — praise God, and I hope you tithe 10% to Creekside. But what if the unexpected things are baffling or even foreboding? Can we accept those things, or even welcome them as signs from God? Will we curse our luck or pray for the wisdom and serenity to accept the things which we cannot change?
My aunt Barbara, Tim’s uncle’s wife, died of ovarian cancer about 10 years ago. She was one of the bravest and most grounded people I have ever known, and it was a privilege to walk with her through her treatment and the end of her life. She introduced me to a poem which I’d like to share with you. You may be familiar with it if you know the work of Jalaluddin Rumi, or simply Rumi, who a 13rh Century Persian poet, Islamic scholar. It’s one of his best-known poems called The Guest House.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
For some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing,
And invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
Because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.
When death knocked at her door, Barabara invited it in and treated it honorably, and death in turn treated Barbara with dignity and respect. I don’t know if this is an epiphany for you, but it was for me; to realize that although life in this world may not be simple, effortless, or permanent, that every gift — even the ones we don’t understand, even the ones we never wanted — has something to teach us.
The story of the wise men is more complex than simply setting out the camel and the guys with crowns or turbans as part of the nativity scene. It is a tale of guides from beyond — dreams and stars — which may lead us to places we never asked to go, to places we never wanted to go. It is a tale of unintended consequences, and the responsibility which comes with unexpected gifts and uninvited guests.As we walk together into a new year, I pray for stars to guide us. But with that prayer comes the knowledge that we can see stars only when it is dark outside, and their guidance is meaningful only if we have the courage to follow where they lead. May God’s light shine on and lead us to Jesus Christ. Amen.